Chapter 6. Clues

By the time Noelle arrived in the medical centre Winter was changed into one of Bucky's T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. He had also shaved, as was evidenced by several small nicks on his face and must have showered as his hair looked damp. His eyes followed her while she checked in with Wendy, the nurse practitioner who was coming off shift. She then went to see Peter, who was sitting on his hospital bed with a laptop on the bed in front of him.

"How are you today?"

She smiled at the young Avenger as she brought the blood pressure machine over, wrapping the cuff around his arm. While it inflated, she put the O2 monitor on his finger that also measured his heart rate. Peter waited until she finished taking his blood pressure before speaking.

"I feel great," he replied then pointed at the readout on the screen. "See? 110 over 90. That's normal, right?"

She marked down his stats on her iPad then placed a temperature monitor on his forehead, waiting until it beeped to pull it away.

"Yes, but a bruised lung and kidney aren't to be trifled with," she said. Gently she felt around his jaw. "Any pain?" He shook his head. With her eyebrows raised she handed him a small specimen bottle. "Fill it half full of urine so we can see how your kidneys are doing."

Stifling a sigh he took the bottle with him to his bathroom, and she put the equipment back, stepping out of his room. Helen Cho was at the desk, reading over what happened earlier with Bucky. Glancing at Noelle, she smiled.

"Thor suggested he shower, wash his hair and shave before he changed into clean clothes," she said. "Winter admitted that he didn't know how to do any of them, so Bruce showed him some instructional videos on the iPad, then let him try it for himself."

"Bucky knew how," noted Noelle, frowning slightly.

"Winter said that was true but as the Asset he was never allowed to look after himself," she answered. "Even Bucky had trouble remembering the skills when he was first on the run, according to Winter. The only skills he knows are those directly related to missions, like flying a quinjet, or firing a gun, that sort of thing. I guess they wanted those type of skills to be second nature to him. Otherwise, for the basics they wanted him dependent on them."

They both looked up as Nick Fury arrived in the medical centre, along with Dr. Strange and Sam. The men went into Winter's room where Thor already was, closing the door behind them. Shortly after Bruce left his office and entered the room with them. Helen gave her a slightly surprised look then returned to her computer work. Returning to Peter's room, Noelle took the urine specimen and told him to stay put while she took it to the lab.

Inside his room, Winter stood almost at attention, having deduced that the arrival of Fury was for interrogation purposes. From previous experience he had learned it was best to appear ready to answer all questions. Fury sat in the chair then motioned to the bed.

"You may sit if you wish," he said to Winter, trying to sound friendly.

"I will stand."

"We've had the opportunity to look at some preliminary footage of the mission site," said Fury, deciding to proceed. "Friday is going to play it and I want you to watch it. If you notice anything, or wish to comment, you are free to do so. Do you understand?"

"I understand," replied Winter.

Friday was instructed to show the footage and project it onto the blank wall of the room. They all turned to watch it as the exterior cams of the quinjet showed its recording of what happened. It seemed fairly straightforward, showing those who were outdoors being knocked aside by the beams that came out of the portal, then Bucky exiting the building and carrying Thor into the quinjet, followed by him going back to everyone else and carrying them in. Then a beam seemed to strike him but his vibranium arm appeared to dissipate the contact somewhat. Where others had been knocked out, he was just stunned. Just as it seemed he was coming around he was lifted up by the blast from the Cerberus facility exploding and thrown hard against the side of the quinjet. Bruce winced a little at the impact, knowing that was probably the moment when Bucky received his head injury. He was motionless for some time then raised himself and finished dragging the Iron Man suit up the ramp, seeming to struggle as he did so. The footage switched to an interior shot that showed Bucky beginning the evacuation procedure then sliding down onto the floor of the quinjet and losing consciousness. Winter watched intently, concentrating on what was shown but he said nothing.

"Is that an accurate representation of what you remember?" asked Fury.

"Yes, although I lost consciousness at the same time as Barnes," he said, a crease appearing between his eyes. "I helped Barnes get the suit on the quinjet as he had little energy left and there was a great pain in his head."

"We'll come back to that," said Fury. "Friday, show the various suit's video footage."

There were three feeds: Iron Man's regular suit cam, plus a cam in the long-range infrared frequency, and Sam's suit cam. Sam's feed played first then stopped moving when he was knocked out, pointing in one direction at all times, presumably as he lay unconscious on the ground. Iron Man's feeds were more intuitive, seeming to follow the action, so it followed Bucky back and forth while he carried everyone to safety. When both feeds switched to the interior of the quinjet they focused on Bucky placing his palm on the reader and calling for emergency transport, then collapsing. Winter started slightly as he seemed to see something in one of the feeds then he turned and looked at Fury, puzzled.

"You want to look at that again?" asked the director. Winter nodded. "Friday, replay the last ten seconds of Iron Man's suit cams. Slow the motion by half."

The replay began and they watched the two feeds side by side. The infrared feed differed when a shadowy form seemed to appear inside the quinjet, and bend over Bucky's unconscious form, touching it, then looked like it pulled something out of Bucky before disappearing through the hull.

"May I see that one again?" asked Winter, pointing to the infrared feed.

Fury replayed it again and they all watched the shadowy form. Then Friday was asked to show the quinjet's exterior cams after the appearance and disappearance of the shadow person. At first nothing was seen, then Fury asked for a long-range infrared filter be applied to the footage and they saw the shadowy shape enter and leave the quinjet, with another shadow in tow, and race off into the sky, before disappearing into the last known location of the portal, even though it wasn't visible anymore.

No one spoke as the replay ended then Winter turned away from the wall and looked at Fury.

"What was that?"

"We're not sure," said Fury. "But it seemed to take something from Barnes' body."

"Why did it take Barnes and not the Asset?"

A crease appeared between his eyes again as if he was confused or struggling to understand. The reference to himself in the third person was noted. Banner and Strange made eye contact as if they both had the same thought.

"Is it possible that you were not responsive, but Barnes still was?" Fury looked intently at the man. "Perhaps, it was sent to retrieve Barnes or yourself, taking the only one it could sense." He waited several more moments. "The portal reappeared elsewhere after this happened, but in a much smaller format."

Winter looked at the wall again then back at Fury. "Where?"

"Here," said the director. "But we only just discovered the evidence of that about ten minutes before we came to see you this morning. It seems it was open during the surgery to repair the brain injury you and Barnes suffered. We're trying to see if the shadowy form came with it."

Winter swallowed nervously, then began fidgeting with his hands. It seemed he wanted to say something, but he hesitated, as perhaps a deep-seated fear, kept him from speaking. Leaving it out there, Fury leaned forward so that he was closer to Winter.

"You said that you helped Barnes get the suit on the quinjet. What did you mean by that?"

"Barnes protects the team," answered Winter. "Even when the effort is beyond his own limits. When he can't go any further, I help. I am able to push his body a little further."

"Is he aware you're there?" Bruce interrupted, earning a slight glare from Fury.

"No, I am careful not to be obvious when I help," replied Winter. "He is still afraid of me from when I was HYDRA's soldier; believes I am still in him, but still loyal to HYDRA."

"Because you're willing to kill," said Fury, almost gently. "You said before the words were neutralized that you came forward on command while Barnes retreated. He didn't like killing but you did."

"No, I didn't like it," said Winter, as he frowned, obviously distressed. "It wasn't about liking killing. I killed so that Barnes didn't have to. They hurt him when he wouldn't kill." Winter looked even more unhappy. "His pain was harming him, so I accepted the burden of completing the commands that HYDRA instilled. He still had the memories of the missions, but the blood was on my hands, not on his."

"You know he still doesn't see it that way," said Bruce, kindly. "He believes he is responsible, even though it has been proven he wasn't."

The super soldier nodded, then spoke with a rawness that hurt to hear. "That is who Barnes is. No matter what I did to protect him he felt it all the same. They forced him, against his will and no amount of fighting them was going to make a difference, as they just increased their efforts. It wounded him, distressing Barnes in a painful way. I tried to protect him by taking the burden, and help him accept that he had no choice, but he still doesn't trust himself. He should as he is good, not like me."

"Winter, you believe that you aren't worthy?" asked Thor.

"I am not worthy," confirmed the super soldier, hardening his voice to them. "I killed many, by my choice. Men, women, children; whoever I was ordered to kill became my mission and I did not stop until my mission was complete. I would have killed Steve Rogers on the helicarrier. My hand was raised to strike the killing blow."

"Why didn't you?" asked Sam. "You didn't kill him. You saved him by dragging him out of the river."

He turned his eyes to Sam, displaying an agony that he had never seen before in any man.

"Because Barnes stopped me. Barnes remembered him and wanted him to live." His voice broke for a moment. "I am the Asset, programmed to follow orders, to be a killer, to do as HYDRA commanded. On that day I did not complete my mission."

His last words were spoken in a harsh tone, as if he was admonishing himself. He shut down at that point and refused to say anything more, taking the pillow and blanket off the bed, and retreating to the corner where he had slept the night. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes, further signalling that he wouldn't answer any more questions. Despite both Thor's and Sam's attempt to re-engage him he refused to even look at them and Fury announced that they would leave. As he and the others came out of Winter's room he saw Noelle, returning from the lab. He shook his head at her then left with Strange. Turning her attention to Thor, Bruce and Sam she opened her mouth to ask but they shook their heads as well. That was when she looked in the room, through the open door, and noticed that the lights were off, the window covering activated and Winter was curled up in the corner of the floor, giving off all the signs of being traumatized.

"What did you do to him?" She confronted the three. "What happened?"

"We asked him some questions," replied Thor. "He became troubled and refused to go any further. We are respecting his decision."

"What did you ask him?"

Sam hesitated, trying to find the right words which didn't come, while the other two didn't answer and she headed towards the door of Winter's room, stepping inside before they could stop her. Her appearance startled Winter and he cowered against the wall in response to it. Taking a few deep breaths, she calmed herself, then approached him in a gentler fashion, sitting on the floor with him.

"Winter, are you alright?" He didn't answer, nor did he make eye contact with her. "Winter, please, look at me."

When he did so, he looked so lost that she almost began crying. She touched him on his right hand, but he withdrew it quickly.

"Please, leave," he whispered. "There is much ..." He stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, seeming to withdraw into himself again. "Leave, please leave."

Reluctantly, she stood up again, to retreat out of the room. On the nightstand she saw the card that Winnie made him and picked it up.

"Did Thor show you this?" she asked. "Winnie made it. I told her that you don't remember being her papa. She thought if she made Bucky a card that it would help you remember."

"I saw it," he answered, in a strained voice. "I remember all of it but I'm not her father. I'm a killer."

He turned away again, shutting her out from his obvious pain. Sam's warning about Winter probably being unable to deal with intense emotions came to mind. Whatever it was seemed almost too much for him to handle, but he obviously wanted to deal with it on his own. So much like Bucky, she realized; always wanting people to think he could handle it alone. She left, leaving the card on the nightstand. At least, she would be close if he needed her.

Bucky

The cold woke him, and he opened his eyes, almost shivering. No wonder, he thought, as he realized he didn't have his shirt on. Pulling it on he sat on the surface of wherever he was, remembering the pain he had felt in his chest. He couldn't feel Noelle, couldn't sense her existence within him. Was he dead? Was he in limbo or some strange sort of purgatory where he was destined to stay forever, unable to go forward or back as punishment for his sins? Funny how he would think that when he no longer believed in that sort of thing; not since he accepted that the evil like HYDRA practiced was allowed to spread like a disease, almost unchecked, harming innocent people along the way. Absently, he touched his sternum, surprised that it seemed sore, and lifted his shirt, finding a bruise there, as if someone had pressed hard into it with a lot of force. There was a momentary flash of a clenched fist, his fist, pressed into it, almost as if he wanted to stop the agony of grief that he felt, when he first thought he was dead.

"If I'm dead, how come I'm still thinking?" he asked out loud, not expecting an answer.

That was when he heard the music and he stood up, trying to determine where it was coming from. As he walked, he felt a little like he did when he played the hot and cold game with Winnie, except it was the sound of the music that grew louder and softer as he walked and changed direction. It was jazz music, sung by a woman, and he followed the increasing volume of it until he saw something appear in the void ahead of him. Breaking into a run to get to it just made it scatter and disappear into the formless space, so he slowed down and approached it at a walking pace. As he got closer, he recognized the scene that slowly recreated itself as the club where he met Noelle. Why was this visible to him? He turned around, finding himself on the dance floor, alone, although the tables around the perimeter were filling up. He saw himself and Sam there, already seated at a table then he looked towards the entrance where the women had just entered and remembered the moment he first saw her.

The three women arrived at the club, each of them wearing an elegant black dress, and heels. The tallest one, a blonde, was a knockout, catching his attention the moment she was shown to her table across from where he and Sam were sitting. Even from that distance he could hear the women talking.

"It's too bad Dawn couldn't come tonight," said Maddy, a dark-haired nurse, who worked in the dialysis unit at the hospital. He knew that now as he recognized her but didn't know that then. "There're some good-looking guys in here tonight for both of you. There're a couple over on the other side. Oh my god, one of them is staring at you."

Noelle casually looked over, noticing the tall dark-haired man who was openly staring at her. His rugged good looks and broad shoulders were exactly the physical look she went weak in the knees for. He got bonus points for a pair of incredible blue eyes. Bucky smiled, remembering the immediate connection they had on that night. It was definitely physical, but it was also more, like a tether that seemed to bind them in a way that he had never experienced before.

"Shit," she murmured out loud. "Why didn't I meet him three years ago instead of Mark? With my luck, he's gay and the guy with him is his boyfriend."

The man smirked, as if he heard her, making Noelle smile, as she wondered how it was possible that a man that far away from her in a busy jazz club could hear her over the noise level, of background house music, and the conversations of everyone in between. She had no idea at that moment that Bucky could hear her heart, hear her breathing, could smell her perfume, could even sense her pheromones which were driving him crazy from across the room. Even now, wherever this place was, Bucky could remember his first impressions of her and still feel the effect it had on his body. Cara, her other friend, a respiratory therapist at the hospital, put her hand on Noelle's arm, drawing her attention away from the men.

"That's the new Captain America and Bucky Barnes," she said. "I was on duty the night the Flag Smashers hit the GRC meeting. Some of the delegates inhaled some fumes when the armoured truck they were trapped in was set on fire and came in for treatment. They said Barnes broke them out of the truck with his metal hand by breaking the lock. Damn, that's one good looking man and Captain America is no slouch, either."

Noelle looked back at him. Bucky Barnes, former assassin and now hero. As if he would be interested in her. Still ... she could imagine.

He breathed out at that realization, as Noelle never told him that she didn't think he would be interested in her, even though he was blatantly staring at her from across the club. All he remembered from that moment on, was that he needed her to be in his life. Maybe that's what this was, him reliving that moment but seeing and feeling it from her viewpoint. Maybe he truly was dead, and this was his life flashing past his eyes, appearing in real time to him but in reality, flowing faster than the speed of light before he passed that final barrier into death. Except why was he watching as an observer and not reliving it again as a participant?

"May I have this dance?" asked a deep voice and Noelle looked up to see that Bucky Barnes had a gloved hand extended to her. "I think the way we've been looking at each other all evening we should at least dance."

Smooth line, Bucky, he thought, facetiously. But she bought it and took his hand.

Taking his hand, she stood up and was led to the dance floor where other couples were slow dancing to The Look of Love. Right away, he held her close to his body, and she was aware of his face close to hers, his cheek almost pressed against hers. God, he smelled so good, like wood and leather, with something sensual about it, that combined with everything else about him made Noelle's heart beat a little harder. Her eyes closed at the shivers his presence was sending into her body, willing herself not to tremble, or cry at her need for his touch.

"What's your name?" he asked; his voice was there at her ear, the voice of an angel or a devil. Right now, she didn't know which nor did she care. "I'm Bucky."

"Noelle," she said, surprised she had a voice that worked, although it sounded like a croak to her ears.

"Beautiful name for the most beautiful woman here."

"I'm not," she demurred. "Not even close."

"I've met a lot of women, and none have affected me like you." He lowered his head even closer to her, close enough so that she could feel his breath on her neck. "Noelle, if I had met you in my previous life, I would have fought an army to get back to you."

"I know who you are," she said. "It's well known that you were a ladies' man in your previous life."

Ouch, that hurt. Not that he didn't deserve it. Of all the things that were known about him before HYDRA, the womanizing was the one thing that he wished didn't follow him into the 21st century, not now, not when he had finally found her.

"I'm not talking before the war," he said as he pressed the side of his head against hers and pulled her body just a little closer, molding them into one. "I would have fought HYDRA harder to get back to you. You've heard about Helen of Troy? The face that launched a thousand ships? Your face would have set me free and now that I've found you, I don't ever want to lose you."

"Don't exaggerate," she replied, unable to believe that anyone would think that about her. "You don't know me. Look at me. I'm not a small woman."

"Voluptuous," he countered.

"Too tall."

"Statuesque." His eyes crinkled as he pulled back to look at her face.

"Divorced."

"Set free. Your ex was an idiot but it's great for me. I'm a poet and I didn't even know it."

Bucky groaned, not believing he said that. It was so cheesy, even when it was used in the 1940s.

She looked up at him to see a mischievous smile. A laugh escaped from her lips despite her misgivings. Then she looked up at him again, seeing such a soft look on his face that she knew everything he said was true for him. Somehow, the glove on his right hand was gone and she felt the warmth and gentleness of his fingers on her neck, while his thumb traced her jawline.

"I want to kiss you," he murmured.

"That's presumptuous of you to want to kiss someone you don't know," she replied.

"I know more than you think," he countered, his left hand still firmly holding her close to his body. "By the thin strip of pale skin on your ring finger I would say you recently got divorced. You're wearing black which should mean you're in mourning but for this occasion, you're not quite ready to be out there, so you rely on wearing something classy that shows the best of your figure. That goes for your makeup as well, which you don't really need because you have strong features that are attractive without it. You work on your feet a lot, because you're wearing heels that still show off your legs but aren't too high that you'll regret wearing them when you go back to work. You're either a teacher, or a nurse, perhaps a bank teller because you're observant and nothing escapes your notice. How am I doing?"

She didn't answer, not sure what she could say to that, and for a moment she wondered if she offended him by not speaking. He kept dancing, while still watching her with those eyes that were hard to look away from.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," he said softly.

"Don't ever hurt me," she whispered, not really sure why she said that.

"Never," he promised. "I'll always come home to you, just you."

"I tried," he said, out loud to her as she paused looking up at the old him in the club. "I'm sorry, I didn't come home."

Just like that he stopped moving and their lips met, feeling something incredible flowing between them. Never had anyone kissed her like that; with a softness that promised so much yet was full of a simultaneous desire to both claim her and to belong to her. It was as if he was laying all of his cards on the table right from the start, for her to accept or reject him. This was the real thing, a man who was offering to worship the ground she walked on, protect her, and bind himself to her for all eternity.

Bucky could feel it even here in this memory being shown to him in the void, feel the touch of her lips on his, feel the beat of her heart against his body, the explosion of emotions that this moment brought to him. This was the moment when he began to hope that he could have something meaningful, a wife and family. She was the pinnacle of his life, his chance for happiness. That spot on his chest began to hurt again and Bucky stepped back, back into the grey void, away from the club, away from him and Noelle kissing. It hurt. God, it hurt so much to think that this was it. No longer would he be with her. Winnie would grow up without him and he would never see her graduate from high school, go to college, or get married. The baby Noelle was carrying would never know his father; it was a boy. Somehow, he knew she was carrying his son. Turning away, he walked, back into the grey, hoping that maybe this time it would swallow him up and take away this pain.

Winter

He startled suddenly, the dream in a dream still vivid in Winter's mind, as he opened his eyes. He was still on the floor and the room was still darkened, although the light coming in the open door from the medical centre illuminated a portion of it. Something was different with this most recent connection with Barnes. Although there was pain there was also something else, something that needed to be attended to. Getting to his feet he walked to the doorway and looked for Noelle, seeing her at a desk at the other side of the room, entering information on a computer. He walked to her, drawing attention from others as he came closer with a determined look on his face. Thor, who had been visiting with Peter, came out of his room, then approached closer to Noelle, unsure of what Winter planned to do when he reached her.

"He is alive," said the super soldier, when he reached her. "Barnes is alive, but he is in a place without form, and is full of pain. His memories of you and him are appearing to him and he thinks it is a sign that he has died or is about to."

Standing up to face him, Noelle looked him in the eye. "Is there anything we can do?"

"I'm not sure but we have to find a way to reach him. His pain isn't from someone hurting him. It's from him thinking he has lost you, and Winnie, and the baby."

He looked at her abdomen, which she self-consciously covered with her hands.

"You're pregnant?" said a voice and he turned to see the face of Shuri.

A small, glad cry of recognition escaped from him, almost in desperation. "Shuri, Princess of Wakanda, daughter of T'Chaka and Ramonda, sister of T'Challa, code name Black Panther. You must help Barnes find his way back."

"That's why I'm here, Winter," she smiled, sensing no danger from this entity. "You miss him."

"Together we are one, apart we are less. Even though he feared I was still with him, he didn't know for sure, and I didn't want him to stop being happy, so I always stayed back, observing and helping when I could. In the other place he is afraid."

"Of what?"

"Dying, mostly," said Winter. "This life here is everything to him. Noelle, Winnie, and the Avengers are what keeps him happy and gives him purpose."

"What are you without him?" she asked, gently.

His answer was whispered. "Also, without purpose or hope. This life is too much for me on my own. It is confusing and the feelings I experience are too intense. Only Noelle makes it bearable because I know her and feel her inside. I need Barnes to live this life, while I help protect it."

The young scientist smiled at him. "Then we'll find a way to bring him back. It might take a while, but we won't give up. Don't you give up, either, alright?"

He nodded his head and gave her a tentative smile. It pleased him that she was there as he knew Barnes trusted the Wakandan woman to help him more than anyone else. As she guided him to a room set up with her equipment, to start her own examination of him, he felt better. He still had the memories of what she did for Barnes in Wakanda, of how she rewrote the programming in their brain to make the words unable to affect them. Even though he was sure she didn't know the Soldier was still present when she did it seemed that she wasn't bothered by his presence. Perhaps she understood that his life was intertwined with Barnes, and his purpose was to always protect him and the people he loved.