Notes:

TW: Past trauma and injury.

Targets in sight. The car bobbed through traffic trying to avoid the pursuit. The Asset prepared to attack, calculating the angles before landing with a thud on the roof and reaching through the rear passenger window to extract the first man.

Bucky watched the mental reel play out, trying to focus on his breathing, unable to ignore the scream as Sitwell was thrown cavalierly from the bridge. He forced a breath out between clenched teeth, clenching his fists around asphalt- around his legs tucked up to his chest. The pressure in his chest as the Asset leapt from the bridge with the single goal: Kill the targets, complete the mission.

"Bucky?" Something rattled free from the caged mind and the Asset blinked, shook his head against the piercing pain and the overwhelming sense of presence. Bucky? Was that his name? Did he have a name? Why had he never thought of it before… But he was alive, he was… killing. The dawning comprehension of the knife in his hand, of the blood on his sleeve, of the salt-copper tang of it in his teeth.

Light and sound and feeling flooded him and he panicked.

Run.

"I need a favor."

"Whoa, am I hearing this right now?" Sam asked leaning back with a broad smirk on his face. "Big Buck Barnes asking lil'ol me for a favour? You mean to tell me that there's something I can do that you can't?"

"Sam." Bucky's tone was hard edged and he glared at Sam, clenching and unclenching his metal fist as though it could unwind some of the anxiety in his neck.

"What's up?" Sam asked, dropping the joking manner quickly.

"I… I know somebody that needs help…" Bucky began, pausing to chew on his thoughts another moment, eyeing the exit. Sam nodded for him to go on. "I… I'm not good at- you worked at the VA, right?"

"Yeah, I did." Sam said slowly, his face saying for him that more information was needed. "Is your friend a vet?"

"Not- Not my friend, just… doesn't matter, yeah, she needs to talk to someone and I'm not… you're good at that kind of thing." Bucky said, staring at his shoes, shamefacedly.

"Don't count yourself short Buck. I mean, I saw you with Steve on Tuesday, that panic attack, I don't think anyone but you could have gotten him to calm down that quickly."

Bucky shook his head, like the words annoyed him.

"I'm serious Buck, you are helping him, everyday. Steve keeps his trauma close to the vest, more than most, but he sees you putting in the work and it is making a difference, for both of you." Sam said, putting a hand on Bucky's shoulder so he couldn't shrink from the praise. "But you didn't come to hear me talk about that, so, how can I help?"

"This woman, Stone, she needs someone to talk to." Bucky forestalled the objection before it came, "someone who isn't… me."

"Okay man, when and where?"

"Now?"

"Sure, so long as we get something to eat along the way, I'm starving."

Sam asked nothing further, and Bucky was relieved not to be peppered with questions as he drove the two of them from the compound. This had all seemed like a really good idea last night. But his inclusion in it wasn't precisely what he'd had in mind. The conversation with Sam was the hurdle that he'd been preparing to cross, but it hadn't been quite the struggle he'd expected and now the upcoming introduction seemed a much greater obstacle. Sam knew nothing about her and he'd say something terribly obvious, and Stone would be angry, maybe even kick him out for meddling in her private affairs, change the locks, stay up too late, alone, in her office.

Help Stone. That was the mission. Failure could not be countenanced. Recovery, redemption, hope itself. Bucky must not fail.

"Stone is- was, a PJ, 58th, like you. Bad mission, lost a rookie, she hasn't said much but she's being reckless. I need you to help her. Just… don't be stupid about it, ok?"

"Don't be stupid. Think I can manage that, for a few minutes at least." Sam said with a grin, but he rode the rest of the way in silence, looking thoughtfully from the view out the window to the grim posture of Bucky behind the wheel.

Stone stood in the ring opposite a tall boy, maybe seventeen, gangly in the way only teens who've recently grown several inches can be, but there was determination in his movements as he planted his feet and swung for the pads Stone held.

"C'mon Jeff, you can't hurt me, so hit like you mean it," Stone said calmly, "to the cheek this time, just like I taught you." She popped the mouth guard back in and nodded for him to swing.

Bucky and Sam walked up to the ring just as the boy threw a punch. Stone watched the fist come at her and didn't flinch, letting the blow knock her back a half step and coming out of it with a little shake of the head.

"C'mon Jeff. That was a good warning shot, but if I keep coming back for more, what do you have to do?"

"End the fight, Ma'am." Jeff said shyly, noticing the audience.

"That's right Jeff. Don't look at them, they're not even here, it's just you and me. End the fight."

The mouth guard was returned and Jeff bounced on his feet for a moment, shaking his gloved hands and grunted as though to nerve himself up to the task. The boy's form was excellent and Bucky winced as 180 pounds of young muscle threw itself at Stone's face. For the fraction of a second before the fist landed, Bucky thought he saw Stone grin.

Then she was falling backward.

Before he could move, before anyone could understand what was happening, she'd dropped like a bag of rocks to the ground and rolled out of the fall into a crouch before springing back to her feet and whooping, raising her hands for Jeff to high five.

"Now that's what I'm talking about! Solid hit, no hesitation, and it was clean." she nodded at the glowing young man. "Couldn't have done it better myself, really! Don't slack on the footwork, and keep up the routine I set for you, it needs to be muscle memory. But yes, you did good work today, so why don't we end on that high note and I'll see you next week, yeah?"

Jeff blushed from his ears through his buzzcut blonde hair. "Thanks, Teach."

"Don't sweat it kid, you're putting in the work and it shows." Stone patted the boy on the shoulder and held the rope up for him to slip through. Jeff left quickly, with his head held high and Stone watched him go before turning her attention to the two newcomers. "How can I help you two gentlemen?"

Seeing Bucky seeming to shrink from her frank examination, Sam spoke up. "I convinced Bucky to show me where he's been working out, thought maybe I could vary my routine up a bit." Stone looked from Sam to Bucky and back to Sam with an arched brow. "He's not much of a talker, but I haven't heard anything bad I promise. So, you train fighters?"

"No, I don't." Her posture hardened fractionally, but shrugged. "I don't have a lot of patience for the guys who fight for the sake of the fight. I teach safety mostly."

"The kid?"

"He's one of my… I guess you could call them protégés, wanted a little leg up before boot camp."

"With self discipline like that, I'm sure he'll go far."

"He's already come a long way." She looked after the young man and smiled grimly, turning back to the two men. "I was starting to think you were nocturnal Sarge, nice to see you don't melt in the sunshine."

"I, yeah, I just…" Bucky chewed empty words and prayed Sam would do what he asked without making him spell it out. "I…"

"Sarge here has been telling me about this great little gym he's been frequenting, and I wanted to see what it was all about. Sam Wilson." He said, offering his hand to shake and a charming smile.

"Stone, pleasure to finally put a real face to the name."

"You know, I feel the same way." Sam said, looking from Bucky to Stone with an ever widening smirk. "I think I'm beginning to see the attraction of this place. So, tell me Stone, if you don't train people to fight, what do you train them for?"

"Confidence, competence, the skill to end a fight and the brain cells not to start one."

"And your trainees?"

"Mostly young guys who've been bullied or harassed and need to know how to throw a punch that will put their opponent on the ground and not six feet under." Stone said, dropping the gear she'd been holding into a bag. "Give me a minute to put this away and then you can tell me how I can help you."

Sam watched her tidy up the ring, collecting equipment and wiping things down with a clean rag. "You know who she reminds me of?" He asked Bucky in a significant tone, low enough not to be overheard.

"Steve." Bucky responded with a sigh. "Yeah, I know."

"No, she reminds me of you." Sam said, with a raised brow, "I've heard the stories, the way Steve tells it, you ended every fight he got wrapped up in back in the day, you even tried to teach him, tried to keep him safe."

"Tried being the operative word." Bucky answered, not looking at Stone. He was starting to think it was a mistake to introduce Sam to the only person outside of the compound or therapy that didn't already think him strange. Perhaps it was too late anyway, and for the sake of the mission… For Stone's sake, he would put his embarrassment aside.

"You talk to her, I'm going to go, get a few rounds in before lunch."

"Go right ahead," Sam said, leaning on a post near the ring exchanging a grin with Stone, "I'm good right here."

Bucky turned away, stalking to the end of the room where his favorite bag waited, hearing distantly the conversation picking up behind him.

"You feel like stepping into the ring, Wilson?"

"That depends, will you still think I'm cool when I'm flat on my back and sweating like a pig?" Sam laughed and Stone chuckled. "I didn't think to bring a change of clothes, so I'll have to take a rain check on that but why don't you join us for lunch? There's a great eatery about seven miles down the highway."

"That depends, will I still get an autograph if I end up spilling sweet tea on you?" Stone echoed him, smiling widely.

"Definitely."

"Then I'm in."

Bucky tuned them out, focusing on the leather under his knuckles. There were a few gym-goers around and he held himself back, not wanting to draw attention. He stopped entirely when he realized a dark haired man on one of the weight machines was now craning his neck in Bucky's direction instead of facing the ring. The leather jacket and gloves were far more out of place here than they had been outside where the crisp spring air at least partially justified his choices.

"Ready?" Sam asked from across the gym and Bucky grunted, walking out without looking back to see if he was followed.

Conversation over sandwiches and fries was relatively easy, brief banter over the menu, light, meaningless talk of the weather. Bucky refused to speak except to offer monosyllabic grunts in exchange for Sam's attempt at 'polite chat', this wasn't going at all the way he'd intended. Eventually their plates were cleared away and three coffees and a water- Stone's -ere refilled. A steaming slice of apple pie was set before Sam and he finally seemed ready to really talk. Bucky held his breath.

"So, Stone, how'd you earn that handle?"

"Rookie on my last tour," she paused, cleared her throat and continued with a chuckle, "never would call anybody by their real names, he blamed dyslexia, I said it was because he couldn't spell."

Stone presented herself confidently, but Bucky noticed that she hadn't actually answered the question and he waited for Sam to call it out but he never did, just nodded thoughtfully and took a too-big bite. So much for Sam getting her to talk. This was a mistake. Bucky took another bite, hoping for this to be over, wanting to be alone. He needed space to work out a new plan.

"Who was your CO? Anderson must have been gone before you got there."

"Mackle, Jimmy Mackle. But we all called him Jackson."

"Can't say I know him, a good leader?"

"Strict, by-the-book guy, but he was fair and a real mother hen underneath all that steel plate… I, uh, I owe him." she rubbed the back of her left forearm through the long sleeve of her shirt and took another sip of coffee, shrugging. "Haven't seen him since I got out."

"Its tough, the transition to civilian life isn't easy, I mean, I only lasted what… barely four years before Steve got a hold of me."

"PJ to vet to Avenger, that's quite the trajectory." Stone remarked good humoredly.

"Better beds, better food, we've got a private chef five nights a week. The bad guys are… different, but the rest? It's alright… worth it." Sam smirked and nudged Bucky hard, "I mean, I've got to put up with this punk and the rest of the super-powered posse, but they desperately needed a regular guy just to remind them what it looks like to be human."

"Not tired of the wings yet?"

"Tired? Of flying? Nah, there's nothing I'd rather be doing." Sam was having a good time, but Bucky grew frustrated at Stone's consistent redirection back to him instead of saying more about herself. A transparent ploy that Sam didn't seem to be picking up on. "When I was in the 58th we were pretty well cross-disciplined, were you doing self propelled flights still?"

Bucky let out a breath. Sam was subtle, not an idiot.

"We didn't get wing suits like yours, but we did everything else, choppers, props, jets, even used hang-gliders and squirrel suits on a few ops." Stone answered smoothly, rubbing the coffee mug between her palms. "I think they're working on Drone drops now, it's a whole new world out there."

"Don't I know it." Sam said, nodding in agreement. "Have you made a jump since you got out?"

Stone shook her head, "no, I wasn't in it for the jump, not like… Well, Buddy, couldn't get enough of it, he was my jump-buddy, never seen a smile so big in my life as when he was in the air. Bit of an adrenaline junkie, you know."

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. My wingman was the same. For years, I just couldn't stomach flying without him. It took Steve and the threat of a hostile takeover to get me back in the air."

"Riley Ramirez. I read his name on the wall."

"Yeah… He, uh, he was a good man." Sam said, his mouth twisted for half a breath and then he was calmly neutral again. "Did you have a specialty? Or were you the annoying one who was good at everything?"

"Definitely not that," Stone said, laughing, "no, I was the terrain specialist, which is just a fancy title for being in charge of reading the landscape, mapping rock formations and getting the rest of the guys on a solid footing. And of course planning any accents or descents off of everything too tall to jump."

"My grasp of geology was never that tight," Sam said, self deprecating smile in place, "do you still climb?"

"I… It's been a while." Stone said. There was a wistfulness in her voice that neither man missed. "Not a lot of opportunities around here, and… I guess I haven't been trying very hard to find them."

"There's a great climbing wall at the compound that I haven't gotten around to trying out, maybe you could stop by and give me a few pointers?" Sam suggested evenly.

"I can't imagine you need my help, but sure, yeah, that'd be cool." Stone agreed with a small tentative smile.

It was well done, even Bucky had to admit that. No pressure to climb it herself, Sam was simply offering her an opportunity to teach him, let it lead wherever it may. She and Sam arranged a day for the next week and Bucky sat back as Stone scooted from the booth, giving him a short smile and walking away, her braid swinging as she exited the diner.

Sam had stood up to see her off and he slide into the now empty seat across from Bucky. "I can see why you think she needs to someone to talk to, if all she had was you conversation would never get past, 'yes', 'no', and, 'the weather is weather.'" Bucky gave him a look of pure annoyance but Sam only grinned back. "Hey I held back all the stupid until she left, but it's still got to spill out sometime."

Bucky leaned back quickly, "stupid can be contagious you know."

"If that's true then Steve is patient zero."

Steve. On the bridge. In the airship. Fighting until he'd laid waste to Hydra's plans and then, 'finish it, cause I'm with you to the end of the line.' Stupid, stubborn Steve. Willing to die on the off chance that Bucky would find his way back. It would have pissed him off more if it hadn't worked. Watching Steve fall, like he'd fallen. Like Stone's Buddy.

"Did it mess you up?" Bucky said aloud, startling Sam from his second perusal of the dessert menu. "What happened to your wingman, did it screw you up? Cause everyone else- Steve watched me die, flew himself into the arctic ocean, woke up in the future. And I… well, you know." Bucky drained his coffee cup and stared into its depths. "We came back to a world that was nothing like the one we left. I thought, maybe, that and the war… and… well everything else. I thought it was just me and him…"

Sam looked him over, squinted and then answered soberly, "it messes everybody up. Some hide it better than others, but war… when I came back everything was still the same, it was me, I was the one that was different. Riley- Man, we were brothers and I watched him get shot down." He fell silent as the waitress set the bill between them and left. "A hundred ways that should have been me, but it wasn't. I've played it over and over in my head, trying to figure out how I could have changed the ending, but man, it wasn't in my hands. So, when I got back, I had to figure out what it meant to survive, and then, how to actually live and not hate myself for it."

"Do you?"

"Live? Or feel guilty?" Sam asked. "Both. The job helps. Reminds me what I'm still here for. It gets better, you need to know that, it doesn't just go away, but it does get better. Easier to carry. You're doing it well Bucky, I mean, yeah, I rag on you a lot, tease you, but I mean it."

Bucky considered his words and decided to meet him halfway. "I appreciate it. The teasing. Makes me feel… normal. Like you're not worried I'll blow up in your face. Steve, much as I love him, he tiptoes around me like I'm nitroglycerin."

Sam shook his head. "Steve isn't worried about setting you off, Buck; he's worried he'll hurt you."

"Oh."

The Asset froze, the blue eyes of his opponent arrested him. Fear. Not for himself, not for the mission or the torture that would come if he failed. Fear for the man crumpled at his feet. His fingers twitched as though they were wrapped around Steve's throat and he panicked. Smacking the broad chest with the back of his hand and taking a shuddering breath as Steve vomited river water onto the bank. Still the Asset's fingers trembled. Instinct and training screamed in his ears as he stood up. He had to run. Steve would die if he stayed. He wouldn't hurt him, so Bucky Barnes ran.

Notes:

I feel like we are starting to go places with this story, would you agree?
And we get a little more insight into Stone, though she's not terribly verbal about it, its hard not to talk to Sam!