Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Captain, we might have a problem..."

That was the understatement of the year. After the fatal bombing on the signing of the Sokovian Accords in Vienna, and the alleged framing of the Winter Soldier, it was only a matter of time before the international manhunt leaked to every headline.

"We've got morning newspapers and TVs all over the city with your friend's face front and center," Adeline muttered over her earpiece. She’d arrived in Bucharest late the night before, when the city was quiet and the news of the event was just whispers. She’d been following James Buchannan Barnes’ trail for the better part of the last year since S.H.I.EL.D. imploded and she lost her engineering contract with them. Steve Rogers put her resume on Tony Stark’s desk as a favor. The rest was history. But now, her contacts had finally been able to narrow the search for the Winter Soldier to Romania.

"It's gonna be a contest of who can find this guy first; me, you, Sam, or the Bucharest Police." She was strolling out of the alley that housed the hostel she’d called home that night, and into a busy market. "Andrei Florin. That's the name he's supposed to be going by. If he's not here, he'll probably be at the apartment... Hopefully," she didn't want to weigh the possibility of the third option. He was not at either location, and they were there for no reason. And he was fucked.

"Roger that, Agent Nest," Captain replied, voice low as he ducked into the nearest side street, two fingers pressed to his earpiece. With their Agent on the periphery, Falcon patrolling nearby, and a head start on the hunt for his long lost friend, hope clung tightly to his chest. "I'm closing in. T-minus ten— We'll make it to him before there's a scene. We have to."

-

First DC, then Canada, Alaska, Moscow, and finally Romania— the past few months were a blur of stolen motorcycles, back alley deals, and cramped freight cars. Restless days and even more sleepless nights— the cycle between blistering heat and biting cold always gnawing at the edge of his senses. That alone would have killed any normal person— now factor in the decades of commanding voices in his ear, the death rattles reverberating in his left palm, the haze in his vision, the well trodden path his feet followed as if acting on their own— Bucky — and the memories— the anger, hate, confusion—

I'm with you 'til the end of the line — Why did he say that? Why did I drag him from the river instead of letting him drown?

"Domnule? Vă pot ajuta cu ceva?" The elderly woman before him asked, brows knit as she pushed up her thick glasses. His head was bowed and his blue eyes glassy as the waves of his muddied mind slowly recessed from his body. How long had he been standing here in front of her stall?

A quiet Romanian apology slipped off his tongue easily, just as it had the moment he stepped off the barge from the Black Sea. He took a moment to pick through the fruit she’d laid out on the table, a small smile crossing his lips momentarily as he investigated each one, bantering quietly with the woman until he’d found the ones he wanted to purchase. He offered the merchant a crumpled bill and stashed a few plums into his bag. She thanked him, and he thanked her back. Normalcy.

Adeline had also fallen into the monotony of meandering around with the other civilians in the market, though her eyes were glancing around with purpose. Not enough to look suspicious, especially in these circumstances, but enough to catch sight of the news peddler staring bullets at some guy in an unassuming ballcap. He was slowly lowering the newspaper in his hands and wearing a look of such horror.

Eye contact— with the news peddler across the cobblestone street. Wavering, fearful, recognizing . The man tore out of the booth, struggling to keep his feet under him as he pushed through the crowd. And while the man fled, Bucky crossed the market, feet heavy on the road, though he couldn’t hear it with the sound of his blood rushing suddenly through his ears. He snatched up the front page news splash— SOKOVIAN ACCORDS DISASTER: WINTER SOLDIER ASSASSINATES WAKANDAN KING T'CHAKA!

The distant cry that was nearly lost in the sea of bodies: "Soldatul de Larnă— fugi— fugi!" But the crowd began to turn on each other with narrowed eyes and the buzz of concern. 

His time was up.

"I have eyes on the target," she muttered, tucking her dark hair back behind her ear and striding towards another booth. She looked at the spread of fish for a moment, before glancing up once more, and to her dismay, noticed that the peddler was now gone. And her target looked, momentarily, like a deer in headlights, gears turning, struggling to process, or maybe struggling to make a decision.

"Captain, we're compromised. I'll try redirecting back to the apartment. Are you there yet?" She looked back over her shoulder as several dozen people began backpedaling and double-taking towards Bucky.  He pulled his hood up over his ball cap and stepped off towards an alley just as Adeline reached him.

"Excuse me sir, do you know English?" She asked him forwardly, right hand buried in her jacket pocket. Her fingers ghosted along the grip of her .380. Steve Rogers trusted this guy implicitly, but she didn't. Either he was going to take off, or she would end up wasted on the pavement just like the scared civilians would predict. This wasn't really how she wanted this to go, but it was only a matter of time before the Police showed up.

"Nu, lasă-mă în pace." Language barrier or not— the message was clear: leave me alone . He didn't turn, didn't look, just continued to flee, slipping into the shadowed alley— ducking behind dumpsters and skirting through shops— lose the tail, grab the rest of his getaway pack at the hideout — Then find a place in the countryside to lay low once again.

Go. Go. Get away.

A short jog, a jumped fence, and four flights of concrete stairs later, Bucky found the door to his apartment ajar, the dingy brass handle busted. There were footsteps inside, and the slow creak of floorboards. Then, the figure darkened his makeshift apartment kitchen— Contemplating the disheveled mattress on the floor, half-broken furniture and few personal belongings. Save for the little notebook perched atop the fridge, various paper tabs peeking between the pages.

The buzz of radio in the Captain's ear: Sam Wilson. “Heads up, Cap. Austrian Special Forces, approaching from the south.” Less time than they'd anticipated to extract Bucky.

"Understood."

Steve had taken the notebook down from the refrigerator, the only thing notable enough for him to investigate. He thumbed through the book, stalling on a page filled with newspaper clippings of… himself.

Captain America froze, then, and turned slowly with the senses of a seasoned soldier attuned to the way air moves around another body in the quiet space.

Bucky. 

His gaze wavered between worry and relief as he took in the state of his fiend— all layered work clothes and dark bags under his eyes. Unarmed, tense , but unarmed— as much as he could be with a titanium limb grafted onto his body.

"Do you know me?" 

"You're Steve." Bucky's voice was barely above a whisper. Not a question. A recognition. A memory resurfacing— all the time they spent in France during the war, squatting in little kitchens like this— "I... read about you in a museum."

The ghost of a small step behind him— towards the apartment door— made the hair at the nape of Bucky's neck stand straight up. His eyes narrowed to pin the newcomer— her hand was in her pocket with the telltale weight of a gun. 

"Stand down, Agent,” Cap ordered quietly. 

"Are we sure he's not dangerous, Captain?" She asked, hand still twitching over her firearm. She knew the answer, but still stepped forward. Agent Nest had followed him all the way back, watching her target's six like his life depended on it. Arguably, it did, but the police were still minutes away when she slunk into the apartment behind him. "Sorry I followed you. I understand your apprehension. But you have to trust us— or at least trust him . We're the only ones who aren't after you for your blood ."

Bucky looked at her with a confused uncertainty, but ultimately turned his attention back to Steve. The sound of thundering boots on concrete and slamming doors on the floors below were enough to kick the soldiers into high gear.

"Guys, we gotta get going," Sam's voice cut in on their ear piece. "They're not gonna ask first, shoot later.”

"What’s the plan?" Adeline kicked the door shut behind her, as if it would do anything. The handle was broken, and the SWAT crew knew exactly where they were going, that much was clear.

"I'm leaving. " Bucky answered in a snap, shouldering his bag and snatching the journal from Steve. "I wasn't in Vienna. I'm not getting dragged into this— I don't do that kind of thing anymore—"

"They’re not planning on taking you alive to confirm that," Captain America cut him off, taking a half step forward, looking between Bucky and Agent Nest. "So unless you're prepared to take on a whole army, Buck, you have to come with—"

“ BREACH! BREACH! ” The window shattered inward as two grenades clattered into the room, right at Bucky and Adeline's feet.

"Captain, watch out!" Eyes wide, Adeline kicked both grenades between Bucky's boots, one spinning out across the apartment and into the corner, the other rolling into the kitchen and disappearing under Steve's shield with a well timed toss before it went off. The other however, detonated in the corner on the other side of the lonely kitchen table, rocking the foundations of the apartment and sending them scrambling.

"Sam, where are you?" Adeline barked with her fingers pressed to her comm, half crouching as she hurried to the broken window. "I need you to get me to the jet, this is going South fast ." Her head swam, ears ringing from the sound of the grenades going off.

" Just jump !"

Adeline glanced back towards Steve, who was shielding Bucky from incoming fire from the doorway. She was out of time. Unprotected and unsure of what was going to happen, she jumped through the shattered window and was very unpleasantly surprised to find the fire escape was a lot smaller than the ones back in America.

"Shit shit shit shit !" She teetered over the edge, and Sam swooped by just in time to hook his arms under hers and scoop her up. "Too close for comfort, Wilson, what the hell!"

"You're fine, I caught you! " Sam barked. "Hang on tight. I'll get you to the jet, and then I'm supporting Cap." 

"U-understood." Adeline screwed her eyes shut, deciding to ignore the distance between the ground and her feet for now.

The apartment building erupted in chaos— people fleeing their homes as the police swarmed like ants— shouting orders while their footfall rattled the walls. With Cap deflecting the barrage of bullets, Bucky reached back and grabbed hold of the moth-ridden sofa before whipping it at the doorway— sending the officers scattering back into the hall.

"Bought us a second— c'mon. " Bucky fell to his knees and punched a hole clear through the floorboards, retrieving a duffle bag from underneath. It contained his remaining stash of international currency, his knife, and now— his shopping bag from earlier. Can’t forget the plums.

Only a beat of silence permeated before the scream of Zipline, windows blown in by a fresh gang of soldiers flinging themselves into the fray. It was a good thing Agent Nest got out while she could. Exits blocked— there was only one way this could go— they were surrounded on all sides—

The Winter Soldier's titanium fist grabbed the muzzle of the nearest AR and wrenched it from the soldier's hands. Cap's heart nearly stopped. His voice was a plea as he bodied the next one with his shield and sidestepped a baton.

"Don't— Don't kill them!"

But before the order could even fully manifest, Bucky had already begun to swing the weapon like a baseball bat— sweeping aside foe after foe like he was batting a hundred.

“That's not me— not anymore! ” His restraint grappled with his fear as the super soldier duo spilled out into the hall, fists flying, chests heaving. Bucky's heavy boot planted on the chest of the next man and kicked his ass down to the lower landing. Their foes were all just numbers, and evidently not enough to slow the two of them down. 

Cap was still talking into his earpiece when Bucky took off, vaulting the railing and landing on the lower walkway. The police officers rolled back in fear from the wild-eyed Winter Soldier before them, his clothes partly shredded from shrapnel and gunfire. Surely, this was the end of the line for them, but Bucky had other plans. Namely, the large picture window at the end of the hall. How many times had he rehearsed this particular scenario?

Way too many to count.

"Cap, there's someone else coming in."

Adeline opened her eyes at the sound of Sam's voice over their comms.

"Someone's on the rooftop, full black... Cat suit? Hard to tell," he continued, glancing back over his shoulder a few times as he carried Agent Nest off towards her escape.

Everything happened in a matter of moments: The Winter Soldier and Captain America launched out the stairwell window to the roof of the next building, landing hard . The new adversary was not far behind, landing much more gracefully behind them. He had zeroed in on Bucky specifically, seemingly unbothered and frankly unchallenged by Captain America entirely. Their escape grew more difficult, periods of sprinting were interrupted by violence as Bucky and Steve found their way down to the streets rather brutally. All steep jumps and sloppy swings versus the black-clad pursuer sliding down rain spouts with softer landings and clean rolls.

"Jet's a no-go!" Nest's voice came over the comm, frustration clear in her voice as she and Sam landed on a building beside a freeway ramp. "Looks like Tony caught up and grounded us." Stark Industries' helicopters surrounded their jet on a nearby building. "How did they even fit all that shit up there?"

"Beats me. That means our job just got a whole lot harder," Sam added, looking back towards the direction they came from. "Can we secure a different vehicle?"

"I dunno, I can't exactly set my gear up out in the open like this," Adeline muttered, pulling out her tablet and tapping away, trying to get in contact with an ally nearby who could help them out. "Let me see what I can stir up... We don't exactly have a lot of time."

"See if you can create an opening for us. Stay on the move," Cap ordered, bashing out the windshield on the nearest idling delivery van and clambering into the driver's seat.  The choppers were hovering lower now, armed soldiers seated in the open doors. Bucky was already disappearing into traffic on a motorcycle he’d swiped while trying to dodge the Panther. "Stark's not gonna be happy when he figures out that you're hacking his network for us."

Bucky threw a look over his shoulder at his pursuer jumping across the car roofs like they were nothing. He'd lost his ball cap somewhere in the apartment— his brunette hair whipped in the wind as he punched the throttle, weaving through civilian vehicles like a madman. His whole body felt like it was on fire. His bag thumped against his back. Just when he thought he might have lost the feline freak, the sunlight cut to a dark underpass.

Sam and Nest split, the Agent banking for the stairwell and coming out on street level under the highway. 

The lines of the road rolled over and over in Bucky’s vision as he was bodied off the motorcycle. His metal arm jarred with the impact as he curled it around his head protectively. No time to stop— The human-sized claws were tearing through his clothes— No time to breathe— Piercing his skin— Bucky was back on his feet and swinging his titanium fist at the feline only for it to be caught in the black-clad palm of his assailant.

"I've got backup on the way, Cap, but I need help just outside of the tunnel under E6, north side.” Her attention was immediately snatched by the stolen motorcycle crashing dramatically over a median and Bucky’s body cocooned by his pursuer. Then the fighting. The screeching of tires as traffic came to a halt around the scuffle rang in her ears. “I can't take this guy, and I think he's got the Soldier beat."

Her eyes were drawn up by a familiar sound. 

" Aaand War Machine is here. Stark is onto us, we're overrun, " she said simply, looking down at her screen. Their backup was still outside the city. They would have to wait nearly ten minutes or meet them halfway, and with the way things were going... 

"I don't think we're going to pull this off." She gritted her teeth, tapping at her screen. One golf ball-sized drone detached from her belt and soared past, dropping two stun bugs on the cat man, causing him to throw his head back. His claws momentarily released Bucky, blue jolts of electricity rippling across his body. "But at least I can get the Winter Soldier away from that guy for a second . Captain Rogers, where are you?"

"They have you surrounded, Nest, don't try to be a hero,” Rhodey’s voice buzzed as his pulsars crackled and he hovered above the fray, flanked by descending helicopters. When his visor slid up to reveal his weathered features, Sam locked eyes with him as he, too, descended from the sky. “The Police here don't care that you were S.H.I.E.L.D."

With the screech of tires, Cap arrived on the scene, throwing himself out of the stolen van like his life depended on it— Like Bucky's life depended on it. 

And it did.

God — The voices on comms rattled in his ears with impending dread. He was so close! Bucky was already turning tail down the tunnel but the sirens echoed against the concrete at the other end— His footsteps fell short of running then petered down to nothing. He unclenched his fists, jaw set with resignation as he glanced back at Cap— catching sight of that agent from earlier at the sidelines. His head surely would have been ripped off if it wasn't for her distraction— and now it seemed she would be apprehended with the rest of them.

Cap positioned himself in the gap between the recovering vigilante and Bucky as the foot soldiers circled in with weapons drawn. The two stun bugs buzzed, falling to the asphalt beneath their feet as the War Machine descended with the crackle of propulsion fire. 

"Captain America," boomed his robotically enhanced voice, standing tall, yet not proud. The intonation never quite reached his lips. "You're under arrest by the authority of the U.N. Come quietly— Don't make this worse than it already is.”

"Bucky didn't kill T'Chaka! " the Captain yelled back, his shield arm lowering. "It's impossible— It doesn't make sense."

"We all saw the footage." A new voice from the one who had been silent during the whole ordeal. Not a feline freak. Not a vigilante.

Prince T'Challa, the one and only.

Bucharest SWAT came up behind Adeline, her jaw dropping as T'Challa removed his helmet and revealed his identity. She’d used tasers on the soon-to-be King of Wakanda . She bowed her head in embarrassment and compliance, allowing her hands to be cuffed by the Officers. Bad day. Very bad day.

"Your highness," Sam greeted as he landed down on the pavement to join his team. "Where's Tony?" He tilted his head up from T'Challa towards where Rhodey was hovering just above them. "Still off playing holier than thou while he sends others to enforce his righteous causes?"

Adeline bit her lip at his words. Bold to say just feet away from the royal son of a relevant murdered monarch. Even bolder to do so while he, too, was being cuffed and disarmed.

"That mouth is gonna get you in trouble, soldier."

"When the system is unjust, trouble— good trouble — is necessary," Cap replied as his shield was stripped from his back, voice dripping with disappointment. He didn't resist when they cuffed him and at least three pairs of hands steered him towards the nearest armored vehicle. "Thought you of all people would understand that, Rhodey."

A noble thought , but Bucky knew when he was beaten. He didn't realize it earlier when the police opened fire at the apartment, but here— now— with himself and his… Allies? With all of them staring down the barrel, it was crystal clear.

"Securing the criminal— Kneel. Hands behind your back. " With the muzzle of a rifle trained at his temple, Bucky sunk down slowly, arms behind his back and he just... Accepted it. Through a rising memory, he recalled returning from a Hydra mission— the way he was stripped and hosed down like an animal. Unlike then, he didn't want to hurt anyone. Even as the SWAT descended upon him, unceremoniously yanking layers of his clothes away; denim jacket then hoodie— searching for any concealed weapons.

If they could have detached his arm, they surely would have. But they settled for pulling his hair to the side and jabbing a needle of horse tranquilizers into his neck, instead, and he couldn't help the pained grunt that made its way out of him then.

Agent Nest, Falcon and Captain America were paraded in front of him, as if to rub in just how fruitless the escape attempt had been. His vision started to swim, but he couldn't help but catch the look on the Agent's face when the muzzle was forced over his mouth and strapped behind his ears— for good measure. Nest's eyes lingered on the Winter Soldier as they subdued him. He wasn't even fighting back, was this all really necessary? Their eyes met as she passed him, and her brows knit together as his own eyes became heavy with the drugs.

She could barely tear her eyes off of him as she was shoved into the back of the armored vehicle.

"Where are we going?"

"Back to Vienna," Agent Hill answered from the front seat. " What were you thinking , Nest?"

Adeline's jaw clenched at her colleague's question. "Save it."

Chapter Text

"So, why don't we go around the table and say how each of us thought today was gonna go," Tony Stark began sharply, folding his hands behind his back and setting a slow pace around the meeting room. "And I will figure out a way to spin it so half of the Avengers don't end up in the international stockades, how does that sound? Since that's usually what happens to people who aid assassins ."

"If Nat was in that cell, would you still be saying all this?" Steve's eyes hadn't left the little monitor on the other side of the glass. The cameras were trained on a reinforced cage. Bucky’s cage. "We all have blood on our hands— but like I've been saying , Bucky's not responsible. Agent Nest and Sam have been helping me track him ever since D.C."

"That right? Little, uh, secret rendezvous with one of my leading engineers? A glowing recommendation of yours too, if I remember correctly," A dry laugh fell from his lips and his fingers traced his goatee in contemplation— no— frustration .

Steve’s ears warmed at Tony’s implication, and he had to keep focus on keeping his head straight to avoid looking over at her at that moment.

"You know, Cap, it's one thing for your star-spangled ass to be reckless— It's another thing entirely to drag Sandy and Sam down with you."

Adeline's hands were folded in front of her on the table, thumbs fiddling against one another nervously. She was certain that by now they were going through all of the files and data on her laptop from the last few weeks. She knew it would happen the moment they confiscated it. All tracking and communication with contacts throughout Central and Eastern Europe. All saying the same thing: The Winter Soldier was not in Vienna the day of the bombing . But that wouldn't mean much to Tony.

"My name isn't Sandy," she said with a certain edge in her voice. Sam's head dropped to an amused shake, his chuckle audible to everyone in the room.

"Even when everything is all serious you won't even call her by her real name," Sam muttered, eyes flitting up to the camera feed if only for a moment. Bucky was beginning to stir, muzzle gone, but instead restrained to the chair within his one man prison.

"Government names are reserved for people I'm angry at—" He held his thumb and index finger out mere millimeters from touching. "She's thiiis close, but not quite at your level, Samuel Thomas Wilson."

“Okay, Mom.”

" Enough ," Steve sighed, tearing his eyes away from the screen and swiveling in this chair. "You want the truth out of Bucky? Let me talk to him. Please . Record everything, cross reference the data Agent Nest collected— The U.N. will have the facts, Prince T'Challa will have closure, and we can track down the person actually responsible for the terrorist attack."

"Easier said than done, Red White and Blue Boy Scout. You created a huge mess." Tony flicked his finger across the device at his wrist, casting a web of augmented reality displays to spread across the room. News headlines of the arrest. Pictures of the destruction left in Bucharest. Transcripts of U.N. leaders' interviews about what should be done with the Winter Soldier. The list went on...

"You think they're letting you within a hundred yards of him? No, no, they're running a full psych panel on him this afternoon before the interrogation. In the public eye, he's out of control." 

"And you're resigned to just follow the orders of whatever 'they' decide?"

"That's what I signed up for. Along with most of the people at this table— joining a team . To make the world a better place, to take direction and help how you can."

"And if I turn my back on him?" Steve stood up and jut his chin towards the monitors behind the glass. "Who's going to help him?"

Natasha, who had been rather quiet since they'd all been seated piped up this time, "Steve, come on. This is what making things worse looks like. Let Ross take care of the Winter Soldier, and Tony will fix everything else."

"As much as I hate to admit it, there will be consequences."

Sam's brows knit, " Consequences ?"

"Yes, consequences . Secretary Ross wants all three of you prosecuted. I almost have him convinced to let our little Agent here off the hook because she was operating under the command of what was supposed to be her superior," Tony's dark eyes narrowed in on Adeline, who rolled her eyes.

"So you won't even let me stand alongside my team for what I think is just?” She crossed her arms and side-eyed him, “Oh, right — Agents can’t make their own decisions," She scoffed, head rolling towards Natasha, whose own head dropped before their eyes could meet. “Isn’t that right Agent Romanoff ?”

" Wrong answer . It’s actually because I don't think you truly believe that what you've done here today was right," Tony paused beside her to drop his palm on the table and lean against it. "Do you?"

Adeline sat silently. She still wasn't sure. But here in front of everyone wasn't the time or place to start backpedaling. If there was one thing she knew, it was this: the Bucky she met in that apartment in Bucharest was very capable of attacking her and Steve to make way for his own escape, but he didn’t. He had every opportunity to kill all of the police and SWAT that were after him, but he didn’t. This man was not full of the vengeance and violence he was being accused of now— not anymore . Of course, she'd only shared a handful of words with him, but from what she'd witnessed, he wasn't the monster he was being made to be in the news. He seemed to be exactly what Steve had so fondly told her he was.

"I do. I'll stand on business. I didn't just work for S.H.I.E.L.D. or join up with you for the paycheck... Sir. I want to do good." Her eyes finally rose and settled unfocused on some fixed point straight ahead.

Sam grinned to himself. Atta girl .

Across the table, Steve felt pride blooming across his chest. He knew he’d chosen his Agent well. 

—

A sickly sweet aroma clung to the inside of Bucky's nostrils like a bad perfume, administered in a brief burst every fifteen minutes or so. The horse tranq alone wasn't enough to keep a super soldier subdued for long at all. “ To take the edge off,” one of the soldiers had sneered at him through the speaker in his bulletproof cage. Never mind  the fact that Bucky had scarcely breathed a word in anyone's direction since his surrender. That was— When? Five hours ago at least? Time moved differently when you were deprived of sunlight and food.

Stress positioned with pin-straight back, arms cuffed, legs belted down— They'd removed his muzzle, at least. He could flex his fingers and that was about the extent of it. Like a bug in the worst jar designed by mankind, waiting to be dissected. It wouldn't be the worst thing that happened to him on a Thursday night. But at least if he couldn't hurt anyone from inside here— maybe they'd finally hear him out.

It didn't seem likely .

From the vapid twitch of an eyelid or drop of gaze to epoxy floor— every person he had passed on the forklift ride into this cell were all telling on themselves. They had made up their minds about him.

But not this Doctor Theo Broussard, as he so aptly introduced himself. His gaze was unwavering as he entered with half a dozen armed guards and placed his materials down on the interrogation table— a short stack of notebooks, enlarged photographs and manila dossiers. 

"I'd like to evaluate the patient's mental state in private, please," the doctor told the guards, pulling a lens cloth from his pocket and polishing his thick rimmed glasses. "The surveillance system, as I've been promised, is the best in the world— should anything go awry — you will be just on the other side of that door to keep me safe."

—

Adeline stood alongside Sam, the pair watching from one of the surveillance cameras in the room as the Psychologist began his evaluation with arms crossed. "Perhaps this is what we need, huh? Do you think he'll actually hear him out?" She asked under her breath to Sam, who only shrugged in response.

The meeting had long since broken up. Tony and Steve had walked off to have some private conversation about the Accords and the ramifications of 'what the hell happened in Bucharest.' The rest of the team had kind of fractured to watch the evaluation in tiny groups from different points on the floor.

Steve came out shortly after looking less than pleased, coming up to Adeline’s side and leaning against the wall beside her, arms crossed. “I take it we’re not going home any time soon..?”

Before he could answer, Sharon came by with a slip for each of them. “Receipts for your gear.”

“‘Bird costume?’ Come on, Sharon,” Sam couldn’t help the disappointment in his voice.

“Hey, I didn’t write it,” she shrugged, looking around as Adeline inspected her own receipt for what equipment she was sure to never see again. After a moment of confirming that nobody important was looking, she reached out to a console in front of the four of them and tapped on a few keys, unlocking the audio.

Steve, Sam, and Adeline all looked up as the sound of the psychiatrist’s voice came through dully on the speaker in front of them.

“Hey… Thanks,” Steve said softly, and she just nodded, her own attention joining theirs on the screen.

Just as soon as it was beginning, however, the hum of the lights and HVAC cut out all around them, and Adeline's arms dropped to her sides. "What the hell..?" After a second, a loud, echoing click signaled the emergency lights and generators to start. "The feed. The feed is gone. Something's not right."

Bucky's heart hammered in his ribcage. His jaw shuddered. Tears welled in his eyes for what he knew would come— what he had to resist. Pain had been an integral part of his life as far back as he could remember. Scraped knees and bloodied knuckles from fighting off Steve's childhood bullies, then the bullet wounds and stitches and gashes of war— the terror of surviving the fall from the Hydra train into white nothingness. And even more painful was being scraped— broken — out of the snow and Frankenstein-ed back together— None of it compared to fighting against those ten activation words.

While everyone else around her began heading for the doors, Agent Nest located a control panel near the main door and jogged over. Steve looked around too, clearly looking for a way to view the interrogation chamber, but none of the monitors had come back online. "Hold on. I got it. Just give me a second..." It took less than a minute for her to hack into the surveillance and get it back onto one of the nearby monitors.

Inside, the 'psychologist' was walking around the holding cell, reading out of a book. The sound was cut out once again though, and they couldn't be sure what was being said. From the look on Bucky's face, however, it couldn't have been good. Suddenly, Bucky began ripping himself free of the restraints, and Steve ducked out, tearing through one of the doors to a stairwell.

Adeline's hand came up to cover her mouth as she watched in horror. Bucky ripped himself out of the seat and had begun pounding on the safety glass with his titanium arm, all the while, the red emergency lights bathed the scene in an eerie glow. It was as if she could hear it.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Finally, he broke through the reinforced glass, landing firmly on the ground in front of the container, and stood slowly. The psychologist shut his book pointedly. On the face of the book, even through the blur of the grainy footage, Adeline could make out the black star on the red leather.

Hydra.

By the time his body rose from the floor, James Buchanan Barnes had been dragged— kicking and screaming— under the inky waves of his conditioned mind

The Winter Soldier's eyes followed Zemo with a hollow focus, hanging on each question, each order— answered in a fluent, Russian grumble

When the security doors whirred open and the red light illuminated the silhouettes with guns, flashlights and batons drawn— Baron Helmut Zemo let go of the mental leash with one final word: атаковать.

Chapter Text

This was the worst case scenario: Berlin must have sent someone who was involved with Hydra, or at least had access to Hydra documents. That was the only explanation for what they saw on Bucky’s surveillance camera.

Weren’t all of those freaks taken care of two years ago? Adeline’s mind raced as she broke into a run after Steve. He’d need help getting out, and frankly, she’d need protection if this situation was going to continue on its current trajectory.

With Nest in-tow, Steve pushed through the doors from the sub-level stairway and into a scene of carnage. Soldiers were strewn across the floor, silent and unmoving, and metal desks and equipment were crushed beyond repair. The main power grid had still not kicked on. Red emergency lights drenched the concrete and metal rooms. But through the doorway, he could just make out the body of the psychiatrist laying on the floor of the cell, groaning.

“Stay behind me,” Steve ordered to his Agent, his right hand raised up instinctively to keep her corralled behind him. It wasn’t like she had any plans to disobey him in such a tense situation…

She was, however, startled when Sam came up behind her. He had the Agent's backpack, and upon inspection, it appeared that most of her equipment had been confiscated. Her handgun, PDA, laptop (scrubbed, no doubt,) and a few small gadgets still remained when she pulled the main pocket open and gazed inside. That was enough . She took a moment to fix her .308 back into the small holster on her thigh.

"Sharon couldn't get your Shield, Cap, sorry. Government property ," he said incredulously, air quotes around the ‘government property’ part. It was the same story with his wingsuit, apparently.

As they entered the interrogation chamber, Nest kept her back against the wall, peeking into the doorway as Steve and Sam entered.

"Help me... H-help—!"

"Get up,” the Captain demanded, storming in. His hands hooked on the supposed psychiatrist’s collar, lifting him up the wall. “Who are you ? What do you want?"

Adeline crept into the room now, her hand stalling on the gun that she was so thankful that Sharon had insisted Sam gave back to her, holstered at the ready.

"I want— to see an empire fall." The words rang in time with the sound of heavy footfall behind the engineer, and the hair at the base of her neck stood up.

"Watch out!" Sam whipped back towards the door, ducking under one of those terrifying titanium punches. His fist shattered a portion of the concrete wall to his right. But that wasn't enough to slow the Winter Soldier though, and within seconds, Sam was snatched by his jaw and unceremoniously thrown across the room. His back slammed into the destroyed pod which previously held Bucky captive. Panic raced through Adeline’s bones.

And then, the worst thing she could imagine, he turned his attention to her . Her guts twisted as the Winter Soldier pounced in her direction. The feeling of that cold metal wrapping around her throat as he slammed her up against the rubble he had just created was something she would struggle to chase from her nightmares for months. Her nails scratched uselessly against the titanium, trying to wedge between her skin and his palm.

"R-Rogers!" She gasped, choked, really, hardly able to get the plea out. Her eyes squeezed shut with effort as his chrome fingers tightened on her windpipe, face draining of color.

It all happened so fast, Steve had scarcely been able to process it. He had to save her.

No sooner was Zemo released from Captain America's grasp, he was slithering away into the darkness as his plan of chaos came to fruition. Sam crawled out of the wreckage of the detention pod and shook off the impact, only to give chase to the imposter doctor— something a bit more his speed in his current state.

Steve jumped onto the Soldier's back, locking his elbow around his neck and dragging him backwards— the metal fingers instantly releasing to focus on their new target. The Agent crumpled to the ground gasping and coughing as the two soldiers stomped, blow-for-blow, through the carnage. She looked on in horror, bringing her left wrist up to tap on her watch, and one of the little gadgets she’d been lucky enough to steal detached from her belt. A tiny drone tracker flew across the interrogation chamber and tailed the Winter Soldier.

Cap's restraint, however slight, resulted in him being thrown through doors, rolling across the lower level, and eventually careening down the elevator shaft. It was enough of a distraction for the Soldier, that he didn’t even feel the little tracker attach itself to the back of his shoulder.

A confirmation in her earpiece told Adeline that she had succeeded. She collapsed fully on the floor with that miniscule peace of mind. She just needed to catch her breath…

“Adeline, do you read?”

"C-Cap..." Agent Nest's ragged voice called over the comm.

"Are you alright?” Steve's own breathing was heavy as he grabbed the nearest elevator cable and began climbing up the elevator shaft. Concern for her dripped off his tongue. “Do you need help?”

"No... I think I'll be fine on my own." She tried to clear her throat and groaned. "I managed to get a tag on him before he disappeared. He's moving up to the roof now—" Another cough— "Steve, there's a chopper up there. We can't let him leave ."

"I'm on it."

—

Rampaging to the main level, the Winter Soldier was met with even more infantry, more cannon fodder swept aside by seventy years of violence hardwired into every muscle. Instinctively, the titanium arm ripped pistols from guards’ hands, aiming them back at their owners. When the dust settled— when Bucky returned to his body, in hours, in days perhaps— these would become fresh scars on his psyche. He would have no choice but to relive in his nightmares. 

The remaining Avengers, plus Prince T'Challa, had descended upon the living weapon like flies, one after another— drawing its blood, dampening its momentum as it moved through the compound. But what the Winter Soldier lacked in versatility, it made up for in cold, hard execution. It threw Agents and Avengers alike across tables and through walls, and once again fended off the Black Panther on its escape to the rooftop. Failure was never an option. No matter the cost. So narrow was this vision that the Winter Soldier never even realized that the tracker magnetized to the back of the titanium arm would become its downfall.

—

The next time Captain America heard from Adeline, his comm was fritzing out.

“ Fzzz t— Vehicle— Tracking— Kssshhh — Moment—” It took every last ounce of strength to swim himself and the unconscious Winter Soldier up to the shore. He hoisted the waterlogged body over his shoulder and carried him to the pickup truck screeching to a halt. Adeline waved from the driver’s seat while Sam jumped from shotgun to jog over and help load Bucky into the truck. 

"He's still breathing," Steve gasped, hair plastered to his skull and clothes clinging to his frame. If it weren't for the blood pouring from his friend's cheek or the tattered state of his red henley, he could have been mistaken for simply taking a nap. "Don't know who he's going to be—” A wet, hacking cough shook river water loose from his lungs— “When he wakes up. No time to waste."

"You ride back there with him, Steve,” Sam said simply as they shut the tailgate. “He grabbed me by the face, and I'd like to avoid that happening again if I can.”

"Yeah, try your neck," Agent Nest muttered, looking through the back window at the unconscious Soldier being cradled by her Captain in the truck bed. "There's an abandoned warehouse down the canal. Short drive. We can wait there until I hear from Sharon."

"You sound like shit."

"I said he grabbed me by the neck, dickhead ."

—

The drive was an anxious one which ended just in time, their truck pulling into the rusted open garage door as a helicopter flew overhead. Steve and Sam wasted no time finding a way to fasten their Soldier down: a giant industrial vice. With his arm pinned, Adeline felt comfortable enough to stand behind Sam, her hand fixed on the base of her neck where fresh, dark bruising was beginning to form.

"Will you let me take a look?" Steve asked quietly, firmly. Despite the drive, he was still coming down from the harrowing showdown with the helicopter. He patted the dust off of a cracked leather chair near one of the warehouse work benches. Not that it really made a difference— all their clothes were worse for wear— but that was his ingrained chivalry rearing up. "I'm sorry, Adeline. None of this was supposed to happen."

Adeline's eyes shifted towards Steve, and her cracked lips turned up into a little smile.

"Okay..." She padded towards him, sliding into the seat and sighing as her shoulders popped with a rolling stretch. "Yeah... We couldn't really expect things to go our way huh?" She cleared her throat once again, turning in the seat to face Steve.

"I expected Stark's ego to take a backseat when presented with our evidence— that miscalculation is on me." His nostrils flared with annoyance, then relaxed in a sigh as he thumbed the collar of her shirt and inched it to the side. The skin at her throat was growing into an angry, speckled bruise. His fingertips prodded lightly, gauging the damage with the measured gaze of his baby blue eyes. "But I take responsibility for you getting hurt. That shrink— or whoever is behind this... We played right into his hands."

"Do we— ahh — do we really think the German Government sent that guy?" She knit her brows at the feeling of his calloused fingers pressing on her injury. But she appreciated the care on his part, and the accountability. Tony could take notes.

"Hey,  do you think there's... Oh," she pulled on a couple of the dusty drawers and quickly located a mediocre first aid kit. "OSHA would be so proud." She smirked with the little strength she had left at the moment.

"Who knows what else we'll find in this place. Maybe a couple bills to get you some fresh water." Steve easily lifted a crate and set it down before Adeline, accepting the kit and parsing through it. He dropped a paper wrapper of what appeared to be German-branded Tylenol in her palm as his brow knit together. "He slammed you hard— anything else hurting other than your neck?"

She accepted the small parcel, and nodded softly at his question. "Yeah... My back, when he shoved me into the wall. And my head," she shrugged, recalling the crunch of concrete echoing through her skull when he smashed her against the impact crater his own punch had left. A deep ache settled in the back of her head, accompanied by a throbbing in her brain. One that made her nervous about going to sleep tonight, but not enough to make her unreasonably dizzy.

"We got lucky..." He placed a hand on her bicep and slowly turned her chair around. The Agent's hair was, well, a nest at this point but his fingers tread lightly across her scalp. There were no clear signs of a laceration needing stitches yet—  just a tender goose egg and congealed blood. He tugged at the hem of her shirt, spotting the bruises that painted her back as well. "You saw it in his eyes, right? Bucky wasn't home. When he starts to wake up, if that's what we see again... Promise me you'll run this time."

"Well, I don't know the guy... But his whole demeanor? Not the same as when we found him in Bucharest. He was. Terrifying." Her hand instinctively rose to rub her throat, voice raspy as she went on, "I hope when he wakes up he's not—"

"Hey, Guys!" Sam's voice came from the other room. Adeline's form tensed, and she frowned at the thought of them finding out so soon. It didn't sound like someone was trying to rip themselves out of an industrial vice though, so that was a good sign at least.

Bucky felt like he'd been hit by a bus, opening his bleary eyes to find some sort of warehouse bitten by rust and reeking of oil. His metal arm was cinched, unable to move, and the slightest bit of motion sent the rest of him tipping forward off the crate he had been slumped on.

" Steve ." A heavy sigh left his chest as his eyes focused on the trio stalking in. The bird... guy and the Agent who was arrested with the group, her name floating up through his mind like a wayward bubble. "Nest..."

"Which Bucky am I talking to?" There was an edge, a caution to Steve’s tone as his arms crossed his chest and he sidestepped in front of Adeline.

"Your... mom's name is— was — Sarah." Bucky's tongue darted to wet his cracked lips. "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes to make yourself look taller. You would bring my sisters a wrapper of mints anytime you left the clinic cuz they worried about you..."

Steve's head dropped to his chest and his boot toed the dusty concrete floor. He considered his old friend’s words before speaking.

"Can't read that in any museum."

Nest didn't move from behind her Captain. Instead, she opted to gaze at the Winter Soldier from around Steve’s shoulder. Though... This didn't look like him . The crease between his brows was not the same as before. Now, he looked more tired than angry, slumped rather than charged as though he had orders firing through his synapses.

"So what, we're just supposed to forgive him?" Sam turned towards Steve, who had slowly let his guard down. “We’re cool just like that?”

" Christ — What did I do?"

"He made you do it,” Steve deflected.

"No… I knew this would happen." Bitterness tainted Bucky’s words, gazing at his metal arm as if it could bite him. "Everything Hydra planted in my head is still here. All he had to do was say those goddamned words..."

Adeline registered the genuine anguish in his voice as he lamented his control, and she sidestepped Steve, opting to stand between him and Sam.

"That doctor... Did you recognize him?" She asked, clearing her throat, wishing that Ross hadn’t confiscated her water bottle of all things. Take that and not the Laptop? Or the PDA?

"No." His eyes skipped over to her, eying her up, or perhaps taking inventory— gaze halting on the darkness crawling around her throat. "His accent sounded fake. It dropped when the power surged."

"What did he want?"

"Information on Siberia— locations, personnel—" Mission Report: December 16th, 1991. Execution. Asset Extraction. "Dates. This was all part of his plan to unravel more of Hydra's secrets."

Steve’s back stiffened and he, too, thought about that fateful night in 1991. Information like that getting out. That would be the end of Bucky ever getting a second chance again.

"Why?" Sam asked before glancing over Nest's head at Steve, who seemed to be contemplating.

"Because I wasn't the only Winter Soldier."

It was like a bomb had dropped in the back of Adeline's mind, and she shrunk back two steps, her brows knotted.

"Adeline? Steve? Anyone there?" It was Sharon Carter on the PDA, and the sound made Agent Nest nearly jump out of her skin. She slid the backpack off her shoulder, the strap landing in her palm so she could lift it up and search for the device inside.

"Sharon? I was sure that all my shit was scrubbed .” She cleared her throat. “What's going on, where are you?"

"I'm leaving the city. Listen, I have all your stuff with me. Your tech, Sam's Suit, Steve's shield. Everything."

"We need to get to Siberia," Nest responded, pushing some of her hair back out of her face. "That doctor had some motive with some secret Winter Soldiers. Bucky just woke up."

"Well that's… Not good... Let me see how I can get you transported there as fast as possible.” Sharon sounded shaken, understandably so.

"A quinjet?"

"Ah... That might be tough. I'll get back to you soon. We'll probably have to go up to Brandenburg for that. For now, start heading north. Keep your heads down. Do you need anything?"

Nest sighed, glancing back towards Steve while he unscrewed the vice holding Bucky in place.

"Yeah. Can I get some ice..?"

Chapter Text

About an hour later, the four of them found themselves crammed into a little lemon car and navigating towards the rendezvous point. They were restless with the promise of fresh ice packs, armor and equipment - not to mention food, water, and the strongest pain meds Agent Carter could get her sly hands on. Steve caught sight of Bucky and Adeline pressed to opposite sides of the cramped back seat. The soldier's knees dug uncomfortably into the back of Sam's shotgun seat while the Agent noticeably winced with each new pothole and bump they hit. Agitating her injuries seemed inevitable.

He hated seeing his friends this way.

Sam, on the other hand, seemed more than happy that he drew the best stick for the shotgun seat— having control of the radio and the most leg room in the tiny car.

"This meeting could be a trap," Bucky offered, not tearing his gaze from the landscape flying by outside. "I won’t forgive her if she was lying about bringing something to eat..." His stomach growled loud enough to make his point. 

"Sharon chose her side— with us— and I know she won’t go back on it." Steve’s voice danced around open adoration, and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. "She's actually... Y'know. Peggy's great niece. I trust her. She’s never let me down."

Bucky processed that for a moment, head dipping into a little nod— there was little about Steve Rogers that escaped his observations, even after all this time. A crush was a crush…

"Explains a lot. " There was an inkling of James Buchanan Barnes, the young man before the war draft, tainting his response. 

"Meaning?" Steve’s eyes caught Bucky’s momentarily in the mirror.

"Nothing at all,” Bucky answered simply. If you squinted, you could almost read amusement in his tone. Adeline breathed in and out slowly. The fondness in Steve’s voice didn't get past her either. 

"Meaning she's the best in the business, and she knows what she stands for," she grumbled, fighting the knot of jealousy that tugged at her stomach. Her head leaned against the window, eyes half lidded as she watched trees and buildings fly by.

It shouldn’t be long before—

"There she is, in the Avalanche." Sam gestured beneath the overpass bridge nearby. "She's gonna make fun of our ride, man, I just know it."

Sharon did, in fact, make fun of their tiny car. But there wasn’t time to dwell, and she followed it up by popping open her trunk and revealing the contraband inside. Shield. Wings. Kevlar. Tech. And she snatched a few gas station bags from the passenger side, setting them precariously on the roof of the car.

From inside their jalopy, Steve’s team couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but…

"She sure carries herself like Peggy," Bucky noted quietly to himself. "I can see— Oh."

Sam and Bucky watched as Steve and Sharon wrapped their arms around one another, sharing a kiss. Bucky's stomach did a little flip flop and a rare smile graced his lips— something he hadn't felt since he was iced. Once upon a time, it was Bucky who was the popular one and Steve who sat on the sidelines. How times had changed...

With a dubious smirk on his face, Sam fished a $5 bill from his pocket and passed it over his shoulder for Adeline. They’d bet on whether or not Sharon and Steve would quit flirting and act on their feelings nearly two years ago. Agent Nest averted her eyes. The bet had been funny when it was made. But not now, not when the sight of it soured her mood.

"They must think we're not gonna make it or something..." She crossed her arms and leaned back slowly against the stained leather upholstery. The soreness in her shoulder blades made her wince slightly.

“The odds are slim, sure, but we’ve been in stickier situations.” He looks back at her again, sensing her shifted tone. “We’ll figure something out. Besides, Tony likes you , as much as he won’t admit it… You haven’t gotten a termination letter in your email yet, right?” She rolled her eyes at his grin.

Steve and Sharon finished loading the equipment into the trunk of their clown car, each stopping to check in with Nest. Ice packs and her confiscated tech were now piled up in her lap, and she grumbled out a quiet thanks to both of them. Bucky was given a large bag of convenience store food, and Sam cracked open a neon blue Gatorade. 

Soon, Sharon's Avalanche disappeared down the road.

“Eat up.” Steve put the keys back into the ignition and drove his team in the opposite direction. “We've got quite a drive. Leipzig Airport."

Bucky didn't even recognize half of what he was looking at inside the plastic bag. Brightly colored wrappers, a mixture of scents, and a large, greasy paper bag at the bottom. All things he had little exposure to in the time he’d spent wandering around place to place after D.C. He didn’t enjoy going into places he knew had security cameras.

Adeline had curled up on the seat, knees facing towards Bucky and her back pressed to the door. She was still apprehensive about him, but she'd resigned herself to the belief that this was, in fact, not the man who had attacked her. He just happened to share the same body. She had gotten cozy— as cozy as one could get is a clown car like this— with her hand pressing an ice pack to the tender bruises painted on her throat.

"Where do I even start?" Bucky hadn’t even realized he'd spoken aloud until Adeline glanced at him. "Here. You should eat."

"Uh... Yeah, okay." She reached out with her free hand, fishing blindly into the bag and pulling out a brown wrapped sandwich. She set the ice pack in her lap to unwrap the mystery bundle and found an almost halfway decent looking ham and cheese sandwich. Her mouth began to water. When was the last time she’d eaten..? She didn’t even know. Her eyes flitted up to the lost looking man beside her. Her sandwich was clearly the center of his attention. 

"Do you like ham..?" She offered it back to him. She was sure she could find something else to eat in that bag. 

"I do, but you keep it." He grabbed some sort of protein bar instead, scrawled in German. "Look, I— I can't even begin to apologize for what happened. "

The car suddenly seemed too quiet. Steve turned the knob on the radio, gradually letting the tinny, Austrian tunes fill the cabin of the car. That was just about as much privacy as they were going to get.

Adeline's expression softened. How was it that she felt empathetic towards him ?

"Ohhh... You don't— I know it wasn't you. I get that," she said in return, rather quietly. She brought the sandwich back towards herself and looked down at it. Swallowing and speaking already hurt, but the ice was helping. Didn't make her look forward to trying to eat anything, though.

" Still ..." He regarded her quietly out of the corner of his eye, chewing his protein bar slowly. He’d noticed that Adeline looked familiar . But he couldn't quite place it— God, he hoped it didn't have to do with the time he slept while the Winter Soldier took hold.

"I feel like we've met before... At S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Adeline raised a brow curiously at his inquery.

"Maybe. I worked at S.H.I.E.L.D. for a few good years. And a few bad ones. I worked under Nick Fury, if that means anything," she said, her own eyes lifting up to study the crease between his eyebrows. He, too, looked familiar. But his familiarity was the kind where you swear you saw someone in a dream decades ago and never again. She'd never actually met this man before today, she knew that much. But she had reviewed his dossier from Natasha with Steve after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.

" Hm ." The last morsel of the protein bar disappeared behind his lips, jaw flexing. His mind flipped through a catalogue of faces, trying to trace the curve of her cheek and glint of her eye— the dimple on the left side of her face. "Might be nothing... Did you say what your last name was? We... Weren't properly introduced."

"Uhh, yeah. Sandoval . I look a lot like my mom, Mila. She's a cop in New York though. And she says that I look just like her dad. His name was Francis, he was Spec Ops during the second World War. Everyone just called him Grandpa Frank." She watched the expression on his face shift with realization. She considered the chance that he might have actually known one of her family members during the war. It was almost impressive that she'd end up in the same car as him all these years later…

" Frankie ?" Bucky could have laughed right then and there if it weren't for the mouthful of trail mix he'd shoveled in while she spoke. Frankie. The guy he was always bumming cigarettes off of? He had kids? He shook his head slightly, swallowing some of his mouthful before speaking again, still a bit muffled, "107th with me and Steve. That's— How could I forget ? He was a real nice son of a bitch— I mean — Sorry..."

Adeline shrugged it off, her lips curling up softly. "He had a picture of you and some others in a shoe box with all of his medals, I think. Has to be somewhere at my mom's place in Jersey." That explained how she recognized him... She had seen his face before.

Steve glanced back at them every so often. Their voices weren’t bold enough to cut through the din of the radio, but the shards of James Buchanan Barnes were so clearly shining through that he couldn't help but smile. If they could make it out of this country alive— if they could stop the reactivated Winter Soldier death squad— they could clear Bucky's name — Then his best friend could take all the time in the world to reminisce, to heal. 

He was the mission worth fighting for.

Chapter Text

Halfway through Germany, they met up with the rest of their backup. Wanda, Clint, and some guy named… Scott? He seemed far too civilian to be involved, but... They would need all the help they could get to pull this off.

Everyone piled into the utility van that Clint had secured, and Adeline found herself adjacent to the door, with Steve on her left and Bucky on her right. But this time, she was able to breathe a little easier. Hearing such fond stories about her grandfather was a gift, told quietly and lucidly, like they had only happened a couple years back. James Buchanan Barnes, it appeared, had many adventures (and hardships) during the war with friends at his side until the end. The rumble of the van faded away as they exchanged memories, and Adeline updated Bucky on what it was like to work with modern iterations of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Stark Industries.

When the sun had finally set, conversations petered out in the belly of the van. Adeline caught herself staring at his hand. Not his hand exactly, but the metallic one glinting from underneath his tattered, red shirt sleeve. The very same one that had marked her throat with purple and blue welts.

"Did they tell you anything about how that arm actually works..?" She asked gently, not sure how keen he was on the idea of talking about it. Their little talks had danced carefully away from mentioning it until now. She wasn't going to lie and say that it wasn't weird looking at it from her perspective now...

"No."

His eyes fell to those metal fingers, opening and closing them as the limb whirred quietly. He had rarely been awake when the Hydra scientists tore it open for maintenance. All the Winter Soldier was responsible for had been scrubbing viscera from between the plating with glassy eyes— the scientists and handlers couldn't be bothered to do that themselves.

"Probably nuclear. No real senses other than pressure... That vice would have hurt real bad , otherwise."

She sighed at his words.

"Probably has a failsafe. But I'd love to take a look at it when this is all over… If you'd let me, of course," she said, pointing to his hand and choosing to not acknowledge his odds. Probability of survival was not on his side. "May I?"

When this is all over…  

Hesitation crept into his bones, so he didn't immediately move or respond. Just stared down at the invisible line her finger drew towards his metallic forearm. And slowly, so slowly, as if any fast motion would scare her off, his arm turned over, palm up and rested atop her thigh. If she was the last person to ever consider him like this while he still drew breath, at least he knew it would be gentle.

"Why wait?"

Adeline's chest tightened at the gesture, and her hands slowly came to rest on his arm. She pushed the red sleeve up slowly to his elbow and her eyes raked over the metal panels of his forearm, her jaw slightly slack with awe. It was an incredible display of engineering, and she wanted so badly to know how it worked. He slowly curled and uncurled his fingers and she listened to the soft whirring, eyes sparkling as street lights went by.

"So you only feel pressure? No heat— no pain? Minimal nerve placement..," she muttered to herself as she traced her finger along the lines between his wrist and his hand before slowly circling back to draw a line down his palm. "This is wild..."

Bucky's stormy eyes watched each motion, even when she had lifted his arm and pressed her ear to the back of his hand. Make a fist, let it go— sounds almost hydraulic— And now that she traced the artificial heartlines of his palm, little ghosts lingered inside and on the metal. His fingers twitched, as if he could feel the tingle of sinew moving under skin, under her touch. His breathing hitched, and then…

"You— uh— Planning on building one of those for yourself?" Scott Lang chimed in over the rumble of the van, leaning forward in his seat across from them— breaking Bucky's temporary bubble of vulnerability. The squirrelly little burglar was watching with casual interest— as was Steve. "No judgement!"

" Wh-what? It's just a very sophisticated piece of cybernetics一”

Bucky took his arm back from the agent beside him and crossed it over his chest.

“一and I'm impressed by it, that's all!" Nest's voice pitched a bit higher than she was expecting. This agitated her swollen throat and sent her into a brief coughing fit. She grabbed her water bottle, so graciously returned to her by Sharon during their little rendezvous, and took two long drinks from it. She took a deep breath, letting the cool liquid soothe her vocal chords. "If anything were to damage it, I'll probably end up being the one fixing it. I wouldn't let anyone else near it with a ten foot pole. Agent Hill and the other engineers are stuck with Stark. I'm the only one who doesn't have an ulterior motive."

Sam stared at her as she spoke, noting how she was defensively rambling. It was uncharacteristic of her. He nudged Steve’s boot and grinned, rolling his eyes before sitting straight again. Steve didn't have to say anything. Like sharing tobacco and booze, these moments of levity are what carried you out onto the battlefield. 

-

Checking into the motel was simple enough. Figuring out the sleeping arrangements was something else entirely.

Wanda and Adeline got along well enough, commiserating over how often Stark treated them like children, while Steve insisted on bunking with Bucky. Scott pussyfooted around not being killed in his sleep by a certain can-opener, while Sam and Clint agreed to ignore each other's snoring. So, ultimately...

Steve went on a vending machine run with their limited cash. Bucky sat in the armchair next to the TV in room 10A with his boots flat on the floor and his body facing the door— the only entrance and exit outside of the large window. Why did they always have little chairs like this in motel rooms anyways? He was pretty sure he'd tied at least two people up in these before. His back was angled towards the bathroom door, steam rolling from around the frame as the plumbing shrieked...

"Take advantage of that hot water before it's gone," Wanda murmured, drying her deep red locks with a paper-thin towel. Her eyes were closed, but the darkness in her sockets never seemed to fade. As if she was already aware that he regarded her, her eyelids slid open knowingly. Creepy. "You need it."

"Mhm." What he really needed was to finally tend to the cuts that Wakandan Prince had dealt earlier.

"First aid kit is in there, too."

"Wanda..?" Adeline called from the bathroom. "Can you tell me how bad this is?"

Steam wafted around her head as she wrapped a towel around herself. In the process of getting out of the shower, she’d caught sight of some nasty bruises on her back, but didn’t have the heart to clear the foggy mirror to inspect them better. The crown of her head definitely sported some similar wound, but she was surprised when so little blood washed out when she entered the hot stream of water. There definitely was a scab caked into her hair that her fingers brushed over.

Bucky’s eyes slipped shut and his jaw tensed as Wanda padded over to the bathroom door without a complaint. She knew what it was like to make mistakes, to hurt people— Hell, up until the past year, she'd been holed up with extremists and alongside Ultron, bent on revenge. Because of her actions, she lost the person most precious to her.

"Coming in," her voice lilted upon turning the handle. The door opened and shut. A little grimace twisted her mouth, and she reached for the first aid kit that Adeline had set on the counter. On the outside, it looked like a glorified canvas backpack, but it sported a spread of ill-gotten military-grade supplies. " Oof. Certainly did a number on you, eh?"

"Yeah... It's sore. But I'm hoping it's not too bad. Any broken skin?" She asked, pulling her wet hair out of the way. "I've got something else on the back of my head too when I hit it on the wall. I wouldn't be shocked if I had a minor concussion.."

No broken skin. No broken bones. Adeline sat on the toilet lid while Wanda perched on the tub. She found herself delicately rubbing menthol onto her friend's bruises and dabbing antiseptics on the back of her scalp. There was nothing more than a small scab where it had bled superficially earlier... None of them knew what would be in store for them come daybreak, and with any luck, this would hopefully not reopen.

"If you need help falling asleep tonight, you let me know..."

"I really appreciate it, Wanda... Thank you," Adeline stood up and pulled her towel tight again until the Scarlet Witch let herself out of the bathroom. When she opened the door again, Adeline came out in loose fitting sweat pants and a tank top In her arms were her cargo pants and hoodie that had been freshly sink-washed and ready to dry out overnight. Hopefully.

Steve had returned, and he had brought some cans of pop, packets of candy, and bags of chips. He must have cleared out the vending machine. Adeline perked up.

"Wow, this feels like a little field trip. Sooo exciting— is that Dr. Pepper? " She padded over to Steve where he perched on the end of the bed closer to the door. She took the can from her Captain and nodded in thanks before glancing over her shoulder at Bucky.

"If you want to shower next... One of us can take a look at those cuts that Prince T'Challa so graciously bestowed…” Her eyes stalled on his own, waiting to see if he'd meet her gaze. “First Aid kit has plenty of antiseptic."

He couldn't meet her gaze. But he did take up the offer to slink into the dinky little bathroom. Nudging the door shut behind him with his boot before noting the first aid pack resting in the sink. Bottled antiseptic, gauze— The lip of the sink wasn't wide, but it at least could hold the important things in a semi-convenient spot.

A hiss escaped him as he knotted his hands in the red shirt and pulled it over his head. The fibers ripped from his sticky wounds, and the shirt smacked into the supply pack, knocking it back to the ground with a heavy thud. 

"Shit." It was such a quiet word, Wanda and Adeline had missed it.

"Need some help?" Steve asked after swallowing a sip of his root beer, Adam's apple bobbing. He set the can aside and went to stand.

"No." Louder this time. He punctuated his terse response by turning the water in the shower on. He kicked off his boots and undoing his belt, shimmied out of his filthy ripped jeans. He avoided looking in the mirror as he undressed, facing the steaming shower stall instead. His showers were always quick, but this one time, he allowed himself a few minutes to let the hot water pound on his aching back as he stared down at his feet. Crimson streaked across the tub and swirled down the drain, but he wasn’t going to deny the sense of relief at some of the scabbing being warmed and washed away.

When he stepped out, he streched, wrapping one of the ratty little towels around his hips. He looked at the pile of clothes on the ground, and then the kit he’d left on the floor in front of the sink, heaving a deep sigh of frustration. Weren’t showers supposed to be relaxing?

"C'mon, Buck." Steve rapped his knuckles on the door. For a few seconds, there was no response, until, begrudgingly, it creaked open, and, with some difficulty, both super soldiers crammed into the small space.

Adeline watched on, amused. She'd just come out of that bathroom. She and Wanda fit in there well enough, but they were both rather compact. She could only imagine how well two huge, biologically enhanced men would fit in that embarrassing excuse for a bathroom.

"Don't step on each other's feet," she called with a grin, and Wanda smirked at her. This was bold considering all that had happened to her today.

That must be exactly what happened— the bumbling and bumping into the wall and door— that ended with Steve Rogers stepping back out looking disheveled. The door shut behind him once again, and the sound of a bottle cap hitting the ground made him shut his eyes solemnly.

"We may need some smaller backup."

"I'm not volunteering," Wanda replied knowingly, pulling an eye mask from the bedside table and placing it over her head. "Your turn, Agent."

Adeline shrugged and set her can down on the dresser as she walked past.

"I offered, anyway," she reminded Steve, placing her hand on his shoulder as she tapped him out. "Let's see... Can I come in... Bucky?" It was her first time addressing him directly with his name. Using it in this way felt foreign— regarding the man himself instead of using his name in conversations about him like she had over the last two years of chasing the ghost of him.

His silent reply was the knob turning, the door slowly opening, and the pad of bare feet on tile as he backed up and made room for her. His scarred skin stretched over a bulky frame, peppered with dark red lacerations from the Panther's claws. His metal hand held a rag soaked in disinfectant, stained dark from attempting to clean the wounds himself, while his right hand was grasping the knot in the towel that made him decent for her.

"It's not pretty in here, doll."

Steve's ear perked up.

There was a flutter in her chest that Adeline couldn't deny, but she could choose to ignore it. He needed help. She slipped in through the doorway and it made sense how the two men weren't fitting very well in the room. Bucky was... Broad. Saying he was tall, too, would be an understatement. But these motel bathrooms weren’t exactly luxurious either.

"That's why I'm here, yeah?" She held her hand out for the rag, and folded it up when he dropped it in her palm. "Let me see. Turn around..."

He obeyed. They shared a blurred second of eye contact through the dripping mirror, until his dark blue eyes fell away.

"How does it feel?” She raised her hands up to trace along the deep slashes on his flesh, wiping, and then inspecting, and then wiping again. Four parallel slashes, one set on each shoulder blade. “They're red but don't seem to be infected. Lots of plasma though." Advanced healing. Definitely a side effect of being a super soldier.

"Hurt worse when the shirt was glued to them. Not that the police offered to stop the bleeding," he grumbled, then sat down on the toilet lid so Adeline would have an easier time. He turned his back on her, legs practically inside of the tub. He was keenly aware of her eyes inspecting him like a hawk, her rag cleaning the length of his injuries— gauging the severity. And she paused at the ugly, puckered seam joining the Hydra-branded cybernetics to his chest and shoulder. "This doesn't… You know… Bother you?"

Adeline's thumb softly traced the ghost of a line along the nasty graft work, her eyebrows pointed downwards toward her nose bridge.

"No.” She shook her head, chewing her lip in thought as her fingers lingered, running along the rough scarring. “It's clear this was done without passion. Without consideration for the longevity of the project or your wellbeing…" Gooseflesh raised on the plane of his shoulders and the back of his neck between where his hair was split over either shoulder. He shivered at the sensation.

What the fuck are you doing, Nest?

"S-sorry, I just... I'm sorry," she drew her hand away and started digging through the kit again. "I'll dress these cuts for you, and leave you alone."

What the fuck are you thinking, Bucky?

His head bowed at her words, mouth set in a hard line before he could respond. If he hadn't known Adeline was a Stark engineer, if he hadn't known she regularly kept company with the Avengers— she seemed so normal. So well-adjusted . Deserving of more than he could give her in this moment— the right words never came. Better to just keep my mouth shut. Because it was all he could do to keep from absolutely shuddering at her warm, reverent touch as she dressed his aching gashes— and before he knew it— Click . The door closed.

Bucky was alone once again.

-

Steve talked to Sam outside the door to room 11A. They agreed that they needed halfway decent sleep and it was already midnight.

"We'll get going at 0800," he said as he locked the door behind him. Adeline and Wanda were sitting in their bed with their backs to the headboard. Wanda was busy braiding her long hair out of the way so it wouldn't tangle overnight. Adeline, on the other hand, was picking at a snagged nail, her eyes flicking up every so often to look at Bucky. His hair was still damp, pouring down over his shoulders and leaving a dark gray patch on the shirt, Steve had insisted he borrow it from him, even though it was a bit tight across the plane of his chest.

Not that Adeline had noticed or couldn't stop thinking it about when she finally crawled under the itchy comforter. She took one last glance at him. It didn't seem like Steve could convince him to climb into bed with him for at least a bit of sleep. But if she didn't sleep now, though, she might turn into a monster; she was exhausted.

-

A dark, tight, unfamiliar labyrinth of a facility poured in front of her. Red flashing lights were on the periphery of her vision, bathing everything in what looked like blood. She was creeping along what she recognized as a Soviet passageway, passing door after door, all locked until she came upon one that was slightly ajar. She was alone when she entered.

Adeline walked in slowly and stepped towards an Eldridge horror of some machine— or maybe it was a holding tank. Broken glass. Destroyed control panels. There was the suggestion of sirens on the edge of her hearing, like they were far off, but still meant for her.

And then, as if out of the darkness of the void itself, the Winter Soldier came upon her like he had in Vienna. His metal arm, shiny and chrome, reflecting the red blaring lights, brighter now than before. There was pressure around her throat, her hands grasping. This time, he lifted her into the air, and her legs kicked out from under her, missing his knees again and again, like she could do nothing to stop him. She couldn't get her words out. She locked eyes with him then; his mouth and nose were covered by a muzzle, but those blue eyes, rimmed in smudged black slick like axel grease; they looked dead and remorseless.

And then, without a warning, he slammed her on the ground, everything shattering around her.

The visual sensation jolted her awake and let out a frightened cry, her hands flying up to grab her neck. The agent was hyperventilating now, as if to fill her lungs with the air that the Nightmare Soldier had been depriving her of.

In an instant, Bucky was on his feet at the end of the bed, having jolted from a shallow sleep with his chin in his palm. Alert , but powerless.

" Adeline, it’s okay” And it was Wanda whose hands found Adeline, fingers curling with red magic as she pushed the hair from the Agent's cheek. “It was just a dream... it was a dream..." Her lilting voice was hushed, hoping that the Agent’s blood curdling scream didn't draw any unwanted attention from any other motel patrons.

"We're here.” Steve swooped in, kneeling beside her bed and wrapping himself securely around her in a hug. Adeline sat hunched forward in Steve's arms, panting and eyes wide with shock. “You're safe with us." 

After a minute or two, his words reached her through the nightmare haze, helped by Wanda’s magic blurring on the edge of her vision. She was slumped against her Captain, breathing slowly again, eyes half-lidded between short, shuddering fits.

Then her eyes lifted to look up at Bucky. Impassive and still as a stone, he had not moved from the foot of the bed, sharing towards the door.

"I'm good... I'm fine," she insisted, and Steve finally let her go, grounding her with a tight grasp of her shoulders. Wanda tucked her hair back behind her ear once again, and she sighed, slowly sinking back down onto the mattress. It might be tough to get back to sleep now. Light was already glowing dimly behind the drawn curtains anyway… 

"Anyone want a little help falling asleep? Just let me know," Wanda murmured, her manicured palm never leaving Adeline's bicep, should the agent wake screaming again.

Bucky finally moved then. Kneeling over by the door and retrieving a bottle of water from the pack.

"Need anything else?" His voice was a rumble as he leaned over Steve and placed the bottle in her hands. He was no stranger to nightmares after everything he'd been through. It's not like offering her a drink would fix everything, but rather make amends. It was a start.

Adeline took the bottle with shaking hands and shook her head at Bucky, fingers fumbling with the cap before taking a short drink. It soothed her throat, and cooled her boiling body temperature a little. It wasn't a huge relief on her senses, but enough for her to consider closing her eyes again.

"Thank you guys... I appreciate it."

Chapter Text

"I'll take point and clear a path if things go South," the Captain stated, pulling the strap under his chin tight. His shield glinted on his arm. A loud, chirping siren and PA announcement echoed through the air as they stalked through the lower levels of the airport. The facility was on lockdown by the time they even emerged from the parking garage. It was obvious that their arrival was anticipated.

Great. Stark must be here, Agent Nest thought to herself. The only person with enough influence to shut down an entire international airport on such short notice.

"Agent Nest has the Hydra base coordinates. Get yourselves to the helicopter and take off— We need to beat Zemo to Siberia— that's the only way we'll be able to stop the other Winter Soldiers."

Even with her non-combatant role, Adeline was decked in military-grade fatigues and sported her tech at her hip. The first aid pack on her back was undoubtedly lighter after the previous night's... Session with Bucky. But the coordinates programmed into her tablet were their golden ticket out of here and they couldn’t waste this chance.

"Team— Don't engage unless I give the signal. Ready?” And then— “Go!”

Steve was off, jogging out onto the tarmac with Nest in tow as the rest of them fanned out under the concrete pathways. Adeline followed as close behind Steve as her legs could carry. The sunlight here was blinding, the tarmac radiating heat that could just about melt her boots. But before they could run even halfway to the helicopter, an electrical buzz ripped through the air. Arcing across the blades of the helicopter and causing the mechanisms to smoke and fizzle audibly were white bolts of electricity.

"So weird how you run into people at the airport, right?" Tony Stark's voice grated on her ears from behind his mask. He just always thought he was right. Perhaps losing her job with him was for the better.

Her Captain slowed to a stop. And she watched from over his shoulder as Rhodey and Tony descended from the cloudless sky.

"Tony, listen to me, that psychiatrist was behind everything," Steve began, but Tony wasn't there to negotiate. And quite frankly, neither was T'Challa, who leapt down onto the pavement and greeted them curtly from behind his voicechanger.

"Captain. Agent."

"Your Highness." Steve and Adeline both inclined their heads toward the Prince.

"By the way, Sandy, what do you think you're doing? Didn't you learn the first time you got arrested that you've picked the wrong side?"

"Oh, shove it.” Adeline's jaw clenched, and her fists balled at her sides, twitching at her stun gun. “If you only took a second to open your eyes, maybe you would get it. You don't even know what's coming, Stark."

"Oohhh, that's a write up. Colonel Rhodes? Insubordination?"

"Definitely." Rhodey crossed his arms beside Tony.

Steve stepped forward once again, eyes leveling with his friend’s.

"You're after the wrong person, Tony."

"Steve, your old war buddy killed like five people yesterday, and injured even more. You really wanna talk about who the wrong person in this situation is?”

"There will be a lot more dead if we don't stop that doctor. There's five more Winter Soldiers just like Bucky out there, and we need to stop him before he can wake them up.”

"Please, Steve.” Natasha walked up beside Tony, slowly. “Don't try to punch your way out of this. It's not going to go the way you think."

"It's the truth; it’s what's right."

"Alright, you're wearing on my patience, Steven. Underoos!"

Nest ducked out just then, running back towards the parking garage as some guy in red spandex ripped Cap's shield from his arm, and Steve and Tony’s argument reached a new boiling point. For once, she was glad she wasn’t an Avenger; Nobody went after her. Being a civvie-looking coward paid off.

"Guys, the chopper is a no-go,” she snapped over their comms as she took cover inside the abandoned terminal. “Clint, you said there's a quinjet here, right?"

“ Yeah, Stark’s.”

All Hell broke loose.

There was no easy way to navigate to the quinjet hangar on the far side of the airport. But it seemed the long atrium she sprinted across would set her in the right direction. Her boots thudded across the pristine tile floors. With the swelling in her throat, breathing was hard enough at a walk, let alone a run. Panting, she tried to push past the taste of blood lingering at the back of her throat, kicked up from her exerted lungs.

One of the large windows above imploded towards her, glass raining down around her body. She ducked behind a row of seats, yelling into her earpiece and shaking shards from her fatigues:

"They sent that high schooler in the red pajamas after me!"

"You have— the right— to remain silent!" This was the wavering, unconfident yell of a super-powered teen thrown into the heat of battle. Well-intentioned, probably, but with a heavy dose of misdirected ire aimed right at her.

Sam and Bucky weren't too far behind, luckily, arms pumping as they bolted towards the shattered terminal window— Sure enough, a bright red figure was grappling around the skylights and through rafters, trying to land a hit on Agent Nest. Smart move on Tony's part. Disable the strategist, seize their plans, and that quinjet was as good as dead in the hangar. He knew how valuable Adeline really was this whole time.

"What the Hell is that?"

"Everyone's got a gimmick now," Sam griped, deploying his wings and taking off into the air.

Bucky rolled his eyes. Yeah, and yours is being a bird.

He reached Nest first, sliding like a baseball player into home plate across the tile. Some sort of webbing pinned her wrist to the column above her head, knees scrambling for an angle to break free. Nest was relieved by the backup, despite the mask of annoyance twisting her features. And in one fluid motion, Bucky yanked the knife from his belt and slashed through the web. Adrenaline coursing, they both dropped to the floor, his body spread protectively over hers as the FWIP FWIP of more incoming projectiles headed their way from “Underoos.”

Adeline was grateful for this wall of a super soldier— his arms shielding her head as their faces hovered mere inches from one another— This even gave her a split second to study his eyes. A deep, dark, blue-gray. The projectile contact hit his back like a series of punches— FWIP FWIP— He hadn’t noticed the chestnut hue to her irises—   and before he knew it, Bucky was dragged off of the agent and swung unceremoniously into a nearby gift shop.

As her cover was ripped away and thrown into a rack of sunglasses, the Agent sat up and crouched. Adeline wasn't going to lie, she felt a little bit out of her league all on her own again. Tony had always joked about how he wondered why nobody ever thought to go after the specialists during a fight. Clearly, the moment he was posed with the opportunity, he knew who to target.

"Hey, Bucky, can you buy me a keychain?" She called out as she pushed herself up from the ground, and started running down the terminal once again.

She ignored the sound of Sam's wingsuit soaring past, then grappling with that kid in the air above her. She just kept her head down and focused on her breathing, even as she heard more chaos and crashing behind her.

"Woah, you have a metal arm, that's so cool!" If she had the time, she would have stopped to laugh at that, but she couldn’t spare a second.

Keep running. Keep running. Keep running!

Eventually, she made it back outside, closer to her goal than ever. Time melted away, unsure how long it took to cross the runway. And the chaos of battle behind her faded into a blur. All Adeline knew was she must have beat her high school record for the timed mile. Her legs shook, as she finally slowed to a jog just outside the hangar and hunched over to catch her breath. She glanced back over her shoulder, chest heaving.

Was that a giant man? Wait, was that Scott?

"I need to get on the treadmill more," she choked out bitterly to herself, pushing her loose hairs back off of her sweaty forehead. "I'm at the quinjet." Her fingers hovered over her ear piece, "Anyone with a ticket better get over here before the stewards stop accepting boarding passes."

She started up the open ramp, one slogging step planting in front of the other. And just as she was almost inside the cargo hold, the Black Widow stepped out of the cockpit.

"Natasha, what..?” She held her hands up away from the stun gun that Steve personally strapped to her thigh. “Hey listen, you know I'm a non-combatant." 

"I know.” Natasha nodded, gaze unreadable. All business. “I'm not gonna hurt you, Addie."

"Great, but you need to hear me out. Tony won't listen to Steve and he won’t listen to me. But we know things that he can't, no, he won't imagine. I think you might be able to, though– about the Winter Soldiers. Imagine five more of them. "

-

Vision blasted a devastating slice through the air traffic control tower— making Steve and Bucky's escape that much more difficult. Rubble cascaded down as they just barely made it into the hangar, dusted in a fresh coat of pulverized concrete. The metal behind them screeched with the shatter of glass, blocking any chance for retreat, sparks popping from unseen wiring above— Coming face to face with the Black Widow. No Adeline. No escape.

"You're not gonna stop, are you?" Her arms stretched out towards the pair, boots planted to the ground. Her blue wrist pulsars crackled, ready to send the super soldiers flying onto their asses.

"Nat— you know I can't." Steve's voice nearly broke. How many friends would he have to hurt today? How much trust in him had been severed? "I have to clear his name— I would do the same for any of you."

A beat passed, Bucky's fists clenched at his sides. The Black Widow’s eyes narrowed.

"I'm gonna regret this later." Then she fired her rounds.

Bucky and Steve scrambled onto the quinjet, leaving behind the scene below— punching the cargo door controls and jogging to the cockpit.

"Nest— status report." Steve's hand found the back of the pilot's chair as Bucky strapped into the seat. Getting airborne would only be half the battle with the bogies zipping around above the tarmac. "We ready to fly?"

"Pre-flight check is done. We're ready for takeoff…” Nest switched through controls on the panel in front of her, head whipping around to see only Steve and Bucky were behind her. When Steve said that a few of them might have to take one for the team she hadn’t expected more than half to be missing. ”There's a lot of debris in my way, so hold on." Steve strapped himself down to his seat beside Bucky as she pulled up on the controls. Blasting away the debris without hitting Natasha and T’Challa below was easier said than done. The last thing they needed was to be responsible for the untimely demise of another Wakandan royal right now.

"Here we go..!" As they took to the air, each blast sent the equipment, dust and rubble below scattering in all directions. But once they could clear the hole in the hangar, she punched the throttle. The tarmac shrunk behind them– Sam promising to cover their rear.

"Tony and Rhodes are close, where's— there's Sam," the Captain noted, pulling up one of the exterior cameras– And then a blinding light flared through the lens.

"Oh shit, oh fuck, Rho— wh— oo— bzzzt," Sam's voice finally cut out as they accelerated out of range.

Now, they were alone. No more comms. No more pursuers.

"Something happened," Nest said with a deep dread in her voice. Heat climbed in the back of her throat like she was going to cry, or throw up... Maybe both. She punched the coordinates into the autopilot, reaching cruising altitude. She stood up, her hand dragging across her face. 

She swallowed down a wave of guilt that settled in the pit of her stomach. The Avengers were just torn apart in front of her and something terrible happened as a result. It wasn’t clear exactly what, but Sam was a soldier and not easily shaken. Was he trying to call for Rhodey?

"I don't know if I'm worth all this, Steve." The threat of tears grew in Bucky's eyes, hearing the comms cut out, watching the disturbed expression wash over Nest's features. "More people are getting hurt—"

"What you did all those years... You didn't have a choice." Who was Steve trying to convince? Himself? He stared straight ahead out the cockpit windshield.

"I know…” A long pause filled the cockpit. “… But I did it," Bucky finally sighed, pinching the tears from his eyes and letting them disappear into the palm of his fingerless gloves. "And there's no guarantee I won't do it again— Just look what happened to her—"

Adeline turned around and leaned against her seat, eyes set on Bucky.

"You're worth it, Sargent," she said, voice still wavering slightly. Adeline shrugged her backpack off and set it on the ground in front of him. "There's a good man inside of you. You saved me today, and I saw that man myself. And I trust him a Hell of a lot more than I fear the Winter Soldier. Maybe that's naive, but it's something I'll keep fighting for."

Naive? Bucky’s eyes screwed shut. That’s shortsighted.

"I'll second that.” Steve affirmed and chewed on the inside of his cheek. “But we’ve still got a mission to complete. How long before we reach Siberia?"

"Nearly 6 hours. We'll be there around 17:00 local time."

-

With the quinjet on autopilot, the trio were left to their own devices. Nest had her fingers glued to the screen on her tech, preparing herself to hack through Hydra's systems. 

Bucky took inventory of the rifles, grenades, and pistols meticulously maintained by Natasha— they were pilfered from her equipment locker, after all. Currently, a rifle was laid across his lap and an oiling rag was pinched between his fingers.

And Steve Rogers? He was numbly spooning some sort of MRE between his lips that smelled like meatloaf. The MRE's that Bucky had pulled from the locker at the rear of the jet surely were a marvel of the 21st century. Beef and potatoes. Pork tacos. Spaghetti in red sauce. Chocolate protein shake. It certainly beat the calorie-dense mystery slop that Hydra stuffed the Winter Soldier with between missions.

"You both should keep your energy up. There’s plenty to go around."

Bucky hummed something noncommittal and didn't look up from his weapon. Nest needed to eat first, anyways.

Adeline set down her tech and massaged the bridge of her nose. Her stomach was growling now that Steve mentioned food. When she looked up, Bucky hadn't budged from where he was sitting. She heaved a sigh and stood up, walked towards Cap, and carded through the MREs. She grabbed one beef and potatoes and one spaghetti dinner and stalked back towards the Sargent.

"Hey, you." She sat down before him, crossed her legs, and started ripping open one of the MREs. "Why don't you take a break from that. We've got like four hours still before we're there."

Her eyes searched for his until he finally looked up, head tilted empathically.

"Please?"

His fingers stalled. He blinked, pulled from his thoughts.

"Why did Stark call you Sandy?"

Steve couldn't stifle the laugh that came from somewhere deep in his chest. Adeline's face deadpanned. Her brows turned down in agitation, and she rolled her eyes.

"Because he's a manchild . He thinks my last name is funny. I've worked for him for over a year and I don't think he's ever called me by my full name once," she muttered, pulling the spork out of the packaging and leaning back against the weapons locker. "I didn't think you heard that... You didn't snag me a keychain with Sandy on it, did you?"

"And if I did?" Bucky double checked that the safety was engaged, then leaned the gun upright between his knees. While they'd only known each other for a day and a half, he wasn’t sure he’d seen her quite so annoyed. His head cocked to the side while the ghost of a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he leaned forward. "I didn't exactly keep the receipt , you know?"

"Watch it, Barnes," she snapped. Her threat, however, was less than intimidating. "Now eat your pasta." She pushed the MRE into his hands and started to work on opening the other one. She needed to know he was eating. She hadn't seen him do so, besides a protein bar in the van. And she knew, firsthand, just how many calories that supersoldiers burned every day, thanks to Steve. A few protein bars weren’t going to cut it, right before battle.

"You do not want to make her mad."

" Mhm... " His fingers curled around the spork and raised a bite to his lips. "You are terrifying. Truly."

"You better be scared, Bucket."

-

After hours of prepping, Nest had her codes prepared, and Bucky had cleaned and oiled his chosen weapons. Steve had taken up the helm and insisted that the two of them try to rest. Adeline knew Bucky wouldn't, but she still offered him one of the thermal blankets. Taking one for herself, she curled up in the chair beside him.

"Thank you, Adeline. For everything..." His voice was quiet, compared to the hum of the craft. It could have easily been lost if it wasn't accompanied by the flutter of his eyelashes. Bucky kept the blanket folded and tucked it behind his head, arms crossed over his chest. Nest and Steve were alike in this way— always thinking of others first.

"Nothing to thank me for…” Adeline gazed across the gap between them, a tired smile quirking her lip as she answered. “Just trying to do what’s right.” Even though her eyes slid shut, she doubted she would find much sleep. Not with the looming threat of continued violence and the nightmares of screeching comms.

Not again. Not in front of Bucky.

Even though this flight had been delayed, they still had a mission to complete.

And she wasn’t sure anymore who was going to survive it.

Chapter Text

Upon arrival, the three suited while Steve and Bucky shared a few quips. The more time Adeline spent around the two of them, the more she saw the human side of the Winter Soldier. If it weren’t for the trauma, he might actually be a lighthearted person underneath. She hoped at the end of this... She would have the opportunity to continue to get to know him. The real him.

She couldn’t lie. Apprehension hung heavy on her mind about entering the defunct facility. Not even the knowledge of what they were going up against could prepare her for the reality of facing five enemy supersoldiers. This wasn’t going to be pretty, but she was the only one with the codes that could get them inside, if their opponent had locked and armed the entrypoint.

But it appeared that he had other plans.

The thick metal door was left ajar, snow drifting into the inky darkness beyond. A pit of unease stirred in her stomach, even as her fingers curled around the handgun she snatched from the quinjet.

The path was laid out for them. A trap.

They descended the dim, rusted hallways of the bunker towards the birthplace of the Winter Soldier Project. Down and down and down, until a clatter behind them raised their hackles. The hair at the nape of Agent Nest’s neck stood up straight, sandwiched between Bucky and Steve on a short staircase. Captain America crouched in front of her with his shield up, while Bucky stood behind up on the high ground, all sights trained on the elevator door they'd just come from.

"You ready?" Steve asked quietly.

"Yeah." Bucky's confirmation came easily, but Nest couldn't draw words from her lips. She simply lined the handgun with the doors.

This was it.

From within, the doors wrenched open with a screech. Red, armor-clad hands prying the metal were overshadowed by the glowing blue eyes of Iron Man's helmet. He did not raise his pulsars. He did not charge full speed at them. Just stepped casually forward into the hallway and retracted his helmet— brow set in a hard line. 

"We've got to stop meeting like this. Truly ."

"Always jokes." Steve did not waver, taking a few more steps forward. "What do you want?"

"Agent Nest—"

Now this was a surprise, but it made Adeline's jaw set a little harder as he spoke. Especially when he insinuated that he was here for her, as if she needed saving.

Bucky's gritted his own teeth, too, grip tightening on the rifle. Stark's head aligned right down the barrel— but he couldn't be too quick to pull the trigger. 

"I owe her an apology. Turns out your story isn't so crazy after all." Then, shifting his gaze from the Captain to Bucky as his wrist lit up with the data file covering the psychiatrist's death. "Down, boy. We're in a truce."

"Mr. Stark, I'm not the one that needs apologizing to.” His statement made her hands drop, her gun pointing down to the stairs below her while Steve crept forward. “Apologize to the man you allowed to be framed and tortured," she said simply, staring Tony down harshly.

Steve glanced over his shoulder at her, eyes wide. She must not have been aware of how this works. It was a nice gesture, though.

"Yeah, well, he also rampaged on a handful of guards and severely injured a dozen others— the optics aren't great. But this?" His fingers dragged across the blue augmented screen, pulling up the video of Bucky's confinement, sans audio— this 'Zemo' guy reading from the notebook. "This is his ticket out— the airtight proof of brainwashing— after we stop the supersoldiers. Capiche?"

Adeline worried her lower lip as he talked, her mind wandering to those dark angry marks under her collar.

"Yeah. Capiche," she agreed, stalking forward with Steve. "That notebook. It's like the Winter Soldier Controls?" Her eyes were trained on the holo screen as she holstered the gun on her thigh.

"So we destroy it." Steve said.

Adeline's brows furrowed. She glanced back at Bucky.

"Or we use it."

"Are you serious?” Betrayal twinged across Bucky's face through his worried brow and clenched jaw. The gun felt so much heavier in his hands now— his boots carried him up the stairs and away from the group. What did I expect? Stark shows up and she's back to working for him immediately. Winter Soldiers in Stark tech— exactly what the world needs.

Adeline's head whipped around fully, and she caught a glimpse of his expression, so hardened and taut.

"N-no, Bucky, wait. Wait! ” She called after him, turning on her heels and following him up the stairs. His strides were longer and heavier, so it took her a bit more effort just to keep up.

Steve wore a small cringe on his lips. That could have been worded better…

"How long has that been going on?" Tony asked, pausing beside him.

"What?" Steve turned to look at him with a heavy brow. Tony just scoffed, dropping it immediately.

"Buck, please," Adeline said again, jogging after him to catch up. 

" Don’t call me that. You— You don't get to call me that." His words were biting, bitter, meant to cut her down where she stood.

"You have to believe me, I don't want to put you through that again. I meant if there's directions for Winter Soldiers in that book, maybe there's codes to deprogram you. Or something we can reverse engineer to get it out of your head," she said, voice seeping with desperation and a twinge of sadness. "I don't want you to have to go through this shit again... I want to help free you from it. So you don't have to worry about being made to do things you don't want to do or can't stop ever again." She stopped walking, fists clenched. "That's my mission."

At her admission, something stirred in his chest and held hands with the feeling of betrayal, beneath the kevlar, beneath the wiring that snaked into his flesh, some emotion that he couldn't recall the name for. His feet slowed to a stop. He didn't dare look at her.

"We don't have time for this." His voice was pure ice, however, compartmentalizing— sealing off the chip in his composure that her words had created. Maybe he'd thaw it out later if they made it out alive. But for now...

It didn't take long for the four of them to stalk into the grand chamber of the facility. Iron Man on point, flanked by Bucky and Cap, with Agent Nest following at the rear— tech at the ready on her belt, pistol drawn.

"I've got heat signatures. No . Just... One."

Shaped like a silo, the layers of pipework and walkways stretched far above them. The ground floor, however, was a horror show. Large glass tanks lined the floor in a semicircle, steam rolled across the floor, coalescing at the center— a contraption of metal plating, wires, tubes and sharp electric nodes— Gun level with his eye, Bucky barely spared it a glance as he swept the room. He'd seen it too many times behind his eyelids to have any effect now— but as the lights flickered within the tanks and the machinery whirred to life— a voice crackled from some unseen speaker.

"If it's any consolation..." The faces of the super soldiers illuminated, slack with sleep and punctuated with a bullet between each of their eyes. "They were dispatched humanely. Most are not so lucky."

"The Hell?" Bucky's curse spoken aloud, steeped in thinly veiled confusion— it was infectious. The rest of their group danced around the room with their eyes, trying to figure out what detail they had missed about this plan.

"Did you really think I wanted more of these things running rampant?" Zemo questioned, a sickly yellow light clicking on to reveal a series of observation windows at the far side of the chamber. His visage hovered in one of them. "They served their purpose, bringing you here— nothing more."

Steve threw his shield, the vibranium disk hitting the surface and immediately bouncing back to him.

"Please, Captain. The Soviets built this place to withstand the launch of U-100 rockets. You cannot reach me," Zemo's voice lilted over the speaker.

"I can beat that." Tony said confidently.

"I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you'd never know why you came all this way." All four of them tensed at that taunt. Agent Nest stood beside Steve, eyes looking around for the main control panel, or a series of switches, something to hack into that control room.

"You killed innocent people in Vienna, and for what? To have an audience?" Steve walked towards the window of Zemo's safe room, staring in.

"I thought about nothing but you for over a year. Studied you. Followed you . But now... I can see from here, just a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. It's nice to see you, too, have flaws."

"You're Sokovian. Is that what this is about?"

"Oh, please. Sokovia was a failed state long before the Avengers blew it to hell. No, I'm here because I made a promise."

"You lost someone?" Tony asked flatly.

"No.” Zemo's eyes flickered up towards the iron-clad billionaire now. “I lost everyone . And so will you. An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one that crumples from within... Is dead forever. "

Adeline had crept up on a monitor just as it flickered to life. Tony came up behind her, and they both stared down at the screen. It was surveillance footage, dated December 16th, 1991. Tony's face faltered, and Agent Nest squinted, voice soft.

"What is this..?"

From his vantage point at the doorway, T'Challa remained distanced with his keen eyes trained on the scene unfolding. He felt like a fool with every new admission from this “Zemo” character, his own emotions and grief turned him against those who would be his allies.

The vehicle disabling rounds, the screech of tires, the resounding CRASH as the car crumpled against the treeline— Bucky remembered it all too well. The footage was grainy, but the pleading screams of the two Starks blared through the tinny speaker— just as they had in his nightmares. He watched in real time as the blood drained from the Agent's cheeks, her hands hovering over the system's controls, stopped in their tracks as she stood side by side with Tony.

"Sergeant Barnes?" Howard Stark's last words.

Face reddened, Tony whipped his watery glare to Bucky, then closed his eyes in anguish as his mother's voice was snuffed out from the footage.

"Tony, Tony—" But it was too late, the iron-clad man lunged for Bucky as Steve threw himself between them. "This is—"

"Did you know?" Tony's voice was a dagger aimed at the Captain's heart. No more jokes. No more theatrics. He pressed forward, the soldiers stepped back. Bucky could only raise his rifle halfway— Agent Nest was still in the line of fire behind Stark. Her engineering fingers were frantically working on the console now, gun holstered. "Don't bullshit me , Rogers."

"I didn't know it was him—"

"Liar!" Tony engaged his helmet, locking into that intimidating, robotic facade. His voice boomed, "Did. You. Know?"

A beat passed, Steve's expression falling as he raised up his shield. 

"Yes." 

All Hell broke loose.

Laughter filled the room from the speakers as Tony and Bucky began exchanging blows with Steve, trying his hardest to get between them. Adeline crouched over the controls, face twisted in anguish and worry as she patched her hacks into the antiquated system. Something she had up her sleeve had to work to flush that psycho out.

"Ashes, ashes, they all fall down~" Zemo's words flowed like a soft song now, and then, as if it couldn't get worse. "Желание... Ржавый…"

Bucky's eyes grew wide, tears welling along his dark lashes as he backpedaled from another swing of Tony’s metal fist. Nest felt her insides turn over. She had to work faster. Goddamit. She wasn’t going to let him get away with turning Bucky into a weapon again.

"Семнадцать. Рассвет. Печь."

Bucky had already lost his rifle and begun scaling the silo towards the opening hatch. Stark wasn't far behind, even with his malfunctioning booster rockets— exchanging blows with makeshift weapons and throwing punches— NO— NO— his eyes going wide as the mental waves lapped at his ankles— his knees— and threatened to drag James Buchanan Barnes to drown while the Winter Soldier took hold.

"Bucky, GO! RUN!" Steve's words boomed through the air.

"Девять. Добросердечный. Возвращение на Ро—!" Zemo was cut off by the sound of the control room blast doors grinding open. Agent Nest darted away from the panel and tore past the cryo-tanks into the room, her gun drawn.

"Get back here, you parasite !" She spat as she gave chase, pulse pounding in her ears. That slimy bastard was throwing shelves and boxes down behind him in the tight space, his laughter still bouncing off the walls of the bunker.

In a moment of intrigue, the Black Panther appeared at her side.

"Go, Agent. I will take care of the terrorist."

"The Prince of Wakanda is going after the Sokovian,” she barked into her earpiece as she turned around to jump back into the fray. But something dangerous caught her eye... The red notebook with the star on it. “I'm going back to the jet, and I'll leave the ramp down for you. Hopefully we can outrun whatever Stark came in."

Nest and Steve were shouting— they sounded a million miles away— Bucky pushed Stark away as Steve hauled the flying hero back down to the main level. Even as the trigger phrases were cut short, his heart was jackhammering its way out of his chest— but the distraction of simultaneously fighting the conditioning and the enraged Avenger was too great. His reaction time lapsed long enough to earn him a pulsar blast through a rusted railing, metal arm embedding in the Soviet tech that lined the walls. His hair fell into his face, chest shuddering as the Kevlar armor sizzled— A second explosion above sealed the silo hatch permanently. No escape.

Then her voice was there again, barking orders into his head— Get out of there! C'mon, Bucky! Just as the waves began to recede, and he pushed away from the wall, Tony's arm locked around his throat from behind. The Avenger growled in his ear, as Bucky's hands scrambled for purchase on the slick, metal armor.

"Do you even remember them?"

"I— I remember all of them." Backed into a corner, teeth ground in determination, Bucky staggered both of them to the edge of the platform. "They are my sin to carry."

Gravity did the rest.

-

In the cockpit of the quinjet, Adeline released a drone to track the conflict. With her screen propped up on the dashboard, her hands quickly worked through the pre-flight check.

Steve and Bucky fought against Iron Man as if rehearsed, bouncing the vibranium shield back and forth off of Tony’s armor. Duck, kick, punch, every move watched from the corner of her eye as the engines roared to life. Tony was brought down to his knees, a particularly hard blow glancing off of his faceplate. Maybe they really did stand a chance after all.

"Tony, this isn't going to fix anything!" Steve pleaded. "It's not gonna change the past."

"I don't care. He killed my mom," Tony's voice was dripping in genuine anguish, something Agent Nest hadn't heard from him before, or even believed he was capable of. And before she knew it, Tony was on top of Steve, raining punches, until Bucky bodied him with a devastating hit the Captain's discarded Shield.

Adeline's hand covered her mouth as she watched Bucky ram Tony against the wall, his right hand smashing his helmet against the concrete. His titanium fingers clawed at the light powering the Iron Man suit and the man inside. A bright blast flared across her drone camera, and her heart jumped up into her throat, fingers stalling on the switches before her. When the feed sparked back to life, Bucky was stumbling. Stunned, dropping to one knee in an off-balanced struggle with his center of gravity.

His left arm was gone. 

A strangled noise wormed its way from Adeline.

"No... They're not strong enough. Bucky, G-Get out of there," her encouragement was a whisper, for only her own ears. She felt powerless, and yet she couldn't look away.

Defiant as always, Bucky tried to rise from the ground again, only to be blasted onto his back with a point-blank bolt of energy from Tony’s pulsar. 

Bucky fell, still as a stone. Pulsar burns steamed in the frigid air as his vision swam and blood pooled beneath his head.

" Stop! He's my family!" Steve cried out, his voice breaking. "The only I have left—"

" So was I." With a yell, Tony grappled Cap and threw him at the stone pillars with a sickening thud. Turning his back on him to charge up his weapons for one deciding blow at the living weapon that had haunted his family for decades. "Stay down, Rogers— final warning."

Steve pushed off the concrete pillar and lifted his quaking fists in front of his face, spitting a spray of blood to the side. His breath billowed out into the Siberian air—

"I can do this all day."

The conflict reached new levels of brutality as Tony and Steve traded blows— trying to end this once and for all. Tony's metal boot back-stepped just close enough for a feeble grab, and Bucky's bloodied fingers streaked against the metal shin guard. And the swift kick to the head that he earned made his grip go slack once more. 

This drove Steve into one of Captain America's lowest moments.

He roared and tackled Tony to the ground, straddling him and bashing the daylights out of him until his helmet was all but useless. He grabbed the shield from where it had been discarded nearby and positioned it above Tony like a guillotine. But in a moment of hesitation, Steve brought it down on Tony’s chestplate instead. Once, twice, until the blue reactor in his chest cracked and sputtered.

When it was all said and done— his mercy prevailing over his anger and panic— Steve knelt next to Bucky and threw his remaining arm over his shoulders.

"I got you, I got you... Easy..." Bucky's feet were unsteady as he leaned on his oldest friend in the world. Those stormy eyes were unfocused, rolling in their sockets. Blood pooled from his broken nose, his left ear, the gashes on his forehead— it congealed in his hair and plastered to his skull.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you.” Steve glanced back over his shoulder, Tony's pained words still biting. “You don’t deserve it. My father didn’t build that shield for backstabbing traitors!”

Steve side-eyed Tony from where he stood. Lifting his head towards the white sky, his chest heaved with the weight of the symbol he carried. If he had to choose between it and Bucky… If that was what all this conflict and heartache amounted to, then… He barely even registered the ring of the metal as it fell to the concrete floor and echoed around them with finality.

Adeline couldn't pinpoint the emotion she felt as she watched Steve end the fight once and for all. It was a sickening relief. It was over, l but bitterly unresolved. Her drone remained trained on Tony where he sat, focusing on the back of his head from between the pillars. After a minute, when she confirmed that Steve and Bucky were actually on their way up, she recalled the drone, and tearfully finished her pre-flight check. She was somewhere between hyperventilating and sobbing, though trying her hardest to get a grip.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she glimpsed something interesting. Prince T'Challa was dragging Helmut Zemo through the snow and into the back of his own mini-jet on the far side of the plateau. Good. He didn't get away after all.

And only a few moments later, a message pinged on the quinjet monitor. Coordinates. A formal invitation to shelter themselves while Zemo was delivered back to the U.N. to answer for his transgressions. Wakanda was the last place Adeline would have chosen to go, but… With how things just played out, they were fresh out of options.

Bucky didn't even register the cold anymore when the quinjet whipped up the snow and powdered it across the two of them limping up the docking ramp.

In through the nose, hold it... Out through the mouth... Pause.

"I know where we can take him.” Adeline met Steve and Bucky at the Cargo bay, sealing the ramp behind them and offering her support to Bucky’s left side. The man was barely conscious, eyes rolling back, head lolling, blood pouring down his face. “I’ll put the coordinates into the autopilot and help you stabilize him."

"Please. The sooner this place is a speck of dust on the horizon, the better. Too many ghosts in this place."

Chapter Text

Cruising at Mach 3 in a quinjet was smooth once you cleared the jetstream. With the autopilot engaged, it was all hands on deck trying to keep Bucky from dying. With one hand, Steve reached up the hangar wall and released a few clasps holding the fold down bunk in place. Bucky had become all but dead weight in his arms— that didn't stop Steve from trying to keep him awake. 

"Stay with me, Buck. Look at me, look at me— We're getting you cleaned up." The man laying flat on the cot smelled just about as bad as he looked— blood mixed with the acrid tang of burnt kevlar and singed metal hanging around his multiple pulsar wounds. After a long pause, the only sound he made was one of his noncommittal mhm's. His eyes were fully closed now and his breathing was unsteady and pained.

"Adeline, grab the S-Cut from over there— we're getting him out of this vest."

Adeline nodded and did as she was told, crossing the hold to grab the discarded first aid kit, as well as the emergency duffle bag that was perched on an upper shelf. She lined the torn and bloody vest up in the blade slot, and pulled hard while Steve held the garment steady. It was off in no time, and the pair were able to get Bucky free of it, tossing it aside on the ground.

"I'll grab some antiseptic. I can suture, but we need to put burn dressing in a couple places. We have a few big treatment patches that we can cut up and use on his burns," she said as she started digging through the pack. She pulled out the notebook, and froze in place, staring at it. Holding it felt like putting her hands on evil itself. Maybe Steve was right. Maybe they should destroy it.

But now was not the time to contemplate.

"What's bleeding the most, we need to treat that first." She stuffed it back into the bag and fished out the suturing kit, setting it down next to Bucky's head.

One by one, she and Steve took turns on Bucky's wounds, between bouts of talking at him. Steve tried recounting stories from their teenage years to distract him from the feeling of Adeline pulling a needle through the gashes on his brow, hairline, and cheekbone. Adeline, on the other hand, reassured him of how good he was doing as Steve disinfected some of the more dramatic burns on his arm and neck.

At least they could tell from the occasional clenching jaw or whimper that he was still alive, still feeling.

Bucky's eyes did not flutter open for more than a second at a time, even as the two of them rolled him onto his side to tend the particularly nasty burn on the middle of his back. It had puckered and charred his skin through the armor. His breath shuddered, old scars and new ones rolling across his body in a tapestry while his tongue darted out to wet his lips. His hair fell over his features, face pale. The last shreds of his consciousness flickered at the forefront of his mind... Steve had been recalling old stories for some time now, but what he really wanted was...

"Ze... mo..?"

"In custody, on his way to Berlin." Steve answered quietly, discarding the soiled gauze between his fingers. He straightened up and brushed Bucky's hair back from his bruised temple, letting his fingertips linger on his scalp. Those stormy eyes opened once more, sluggishly moving between the silhouettes of Steve and Adeline. "It's okay— For all his grief and anger directed at us, T'Challa is clearing your name. He's a good man with a good heart."

"Needs to... Ditch the whole cat... Mmm... Theme..."

"Tell him that yourself when we see him next," an order that fell on deaf ears and rolling eyes— patting Bucky's cheek. "You're concussed. Eyes up."

"Nnnmm... Awake... Tired... So cold…"

Adeline laid a medicated dressing over the burn on Bucky's back while Steve tried to keep his attention. Her eyes flitted from the charred flesh to his heavily lidded eyes.

"Hey, you... You need to stay with us, okay?" She cooed, kneeling down to get face to face with him. He gazed at her through his dark lashes, those gray blue eyes struggling to focus on her. "You see me?" He merely hummed in response. Her arms folded on the cot, giving her a space to rest her chin for a moment and level with him. "Focus on the color of my eyes. Tell me what you see?"

"Chestnut..." His face scrunched once more as Steve placed a hand on the charred remains of his titanium arm. She stole a glance at her watch. Only forty-five minutes left before they would arrive at the coordinates T'Challa had given them. When he relaxed, his voice was halfway between complete fatigue and relief, "Your favorite... piece of me is gone..."

"No... No, no.” Adeline's lower lip poked out slightly, wobbling a bit, and she shook her head. “That's not true..." Her hand, reluctant at first, reached out to push his hair out of his eyes one more time, then cup the stubble of his cheek. Steve took this time to wrap up the jagged singed wiring and ripped metal protruding from his shoulder, first with some padded gauze and then tightly with thick layers of medical tape. "You're still alive... Your heart is still beating. You're still Bucky and that's my favorite part of you."

His chest hurt at the tenor of her words, eyes groggily searching hers and only finding sincerity housed within. Followed by a sleepy, cocky tug at his lips— he was so far from cool— but Bucky readily soaked up the warmth of her palm anyway.

"The arm was pretty cool, though," she sniffled, grinning slightly.

"Sam and Scott started referring to it as a glorified can opener," Steve added, zipping the medical supplies back into their respective kits. If they could just keep Bucky talking, semi-coherent as he was... "He promised me not to tell, but—"

"Mhm… Not taking style advice from him."

"Because he calls himself Falcon?"

“Bingo.”

The remaining flight wasn’t so bad after that…