Chapter Text
The captain had woken up. And the world had gone to hell.
“They said we won. They didn't say what we lost.”
And it felt like they really had. Steve managed to stop them, but HYDRA had survived and the damage was done. He shook his head to rid himself of the thought.
Steve's steps never faltered in their journey to his new home. The days were growing longer, the weather warm. In truth, Steve had all but moved in with Sam Wilson.
Not that he had wanted to burden his friend with the intrusion, but in the wake of SHIELD's downfall, Steve had needed to get the hell out of dodge. In fact, while in
hospital Steve's affects were covertly moved to Sam's place.
His feet slapped the pavement in time with his thoughts, and he went over his last conversation with Peggy in his head. Time had changed her from the woman he knew. Steve took a deep breath of spring air. A warm breeze drying the sweat on his face. Peggy's words made more sense now.“The world has changed.” A blast of cool air swept at his hair. If Peggy had known about HYDRA, if she had found out like Howard had...
She would be dead.
As founders of SHIELD, Peggy and Howard had acquired Zola, a top Hydra scientist, to become a part of S.H.I.E.L.D's foundation. Steve couldn't help feeling betrayed.
His legs began to burn, but he didn't slow down. He was only a block from Sam's place. Their base of operations. Steve hated the taste in his mouth, now that the lives of his greatest friends were suspect. The world had only ever changed because Peggy and Howard had.
Steve jumped the fence to the yard before stopping abruptly at the screen door. He grasped for a pair of keys in his pocket. “Sam, I'm back.”
There was no reply from inside the house.
Steve proceeded to rattled the screen door open, before throwing his keys down onto the counter. Steve neared the kitchen table, listening to the distant sound of running water.
His eyes fell immediately to the stack of papers and maps on the table; one manila file standing out amongst the rest.
A burst of cold air shook the patio windows, and Steve's mind turned to Bucky. He imagined his best friend, young but not. standing darkly amongst the ashes of time.
“Do yourself a favor. Don't read it.” Black Widow had said. Steve read it anyway. He didn't do it to contradict Natasha, but he had to know. Steve hadn't even finished the first page before he choked.
“Jesus Christ.”
That night, after Director Fury's funeral, Bucky's file was spread out on the table. It stared back at the Captain, expectant, tantalizing, full of death. Steve had hated himself for each line he read. Every new assassination, Hydra's experiments. Steve prayed a thousand prayers for the humanity lost, including Bucky's.
By the time the sun had come up that morning, Steve Rogers had not closed his eyes. He wouldn't sleep that next night, or the one after that, or the one after that...
Steve's throat tightened as he looked at the file now. Natasha's digging had been helpful. But the file didn't hold everything. There were parts that were still missing. The file was old, and ended when the Soviets had given up the ghost over twenty years ago. Steve had a better understanding of the procedures that were done to Bucky, the surgeries, the mechanics of his cybernetic arm. He knew that getting close to Bucky meant dealing with the arm, and that Bucky had gone through behavioral and psychological conditioning. It was a miracle that Hydra hadn't settled for simply lobotomizing his friend. Steve thought that it might have been a small mercy for James if they had.
“Hey man, how was the run?” Sam asked casually, sidling up to one of the kitchen chairs before taking a seat. He opened the lap top before him.
Steve shrugged, before he too sat with a sigh.
Sam's warm eyes glanced over the Captain in what may have been concern. “You know, if we're going to disarm- no pun intended- Bucky, we're going to need some help. Anybody come to mind?”
“Yeah, I know someone,” Steve stared into his folded hands, “But I don't know if asking his help will be a good thing or not though.”
“You mean Stark?” Sam's mouth turned down, “Do you think he knows that Barnes is responsible for his parents' death?”
Steve could only shake his head, “I don't know, but he'll know if we go to him, and he'll know that his parent's murderer is still alive at that.”
“Steve, he has the right to know.”
“If he's half as smart as he says he is, he'll know before I tell him.”
The two soldiers sat in tense silence, Steve contemplating going to Tony before the alarm on his phone started to go off.
“Sam.” He breathed. The Falcon was already on his feet.
“I know, quick. Let's go before we lose him.” Sam jumped into his car, with Steve not far behind. Steve nearly crushed his phone he was holding on so tight.
The message was still displayed on the screen.
There'd been a sighting of a man at the Smithsonian. Mid length brown hair, blue eyed. A limp, one apparently injured arm, and another one that wasn't quite normal. Status; dangerous.
The Soldier, that was who he was, swallowed to keep the nausea away. He stared at the wall of moving memories. The world fell away. The asset's chest heaved, as he stepped closer to the panel with his face staring back.
He had come here to the Smithsonian to acquire knowledge about the target. Steve Rogers could have let the Asset die. Crushed beneath a steel beam as Project Insight crumpled in its death throes. But the target had saved him. When The Soldier dived into the Potomac behind the target. . .Steve. . .a voice whispered. . . the weapon felt obligated to save Roger's life in turn.
It was as simple as that. There was nothing else. He was not his target's Friend.
What the hell was a friend? He was alone. He would always be alone, a cold red star who's only purpose was to serve death.
But as the Asset stood, taking in the youthful expression and human face staring back, he felt a sense of familiarity wash over him.
Sergeant Barnes, life long friend of Steve Roger laid down his life in service to his country. 1945.
He lifted his mechanical arm, as if the image before him were real and wouldn't shatter into a thousand pieces. He touched the junction of the image's shoulder where flesh met flesh and James Buchanan Barnes was still whole.
The gears in his arm creaked.
The Asset Shuddered, nausea clouding his vision more strongly now. There was something creeping up on him. Like a nightmare. The Asset, is that what he was? The Target had named him. Put a name to his face, the same as the one before him. Something warm traveled down his cheeks, pooled at his chin, and fell away. A cold rush of air hit him and the cacophony of sounds and smells followed. The Smithsonian came back into focus as The Soldier repeated a mantra in his head. name...rank...serial number...name, rank, serial number, name, rank, serial number, name rank serial number—I'm crying?
The world slammed against him. The asset could hear a low whisper echoing through it all, “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes...” He realized his own mouth moved with the words. Bucky looked back at the image long enough to take in the face that was staring back.
He noticed a security guard watching him closely. The asset tore away from the exhibit. His weeks old injuries troubling him as he moved, but it was nothing compared to the crushing fear he felt.
The target was telling the truth. Steve had been his friend.
The Asset had a name. A real name.
This realization spurred him further from the museum. He ran until he couldn't feel his feet. His legs shook with each step until he crumpled on the curbside.
Until the nightmare engulfed him, and each time the name, James Buchanan Barnes echoed through his mind he trembled and shook in fear and pain.
–--
“Is the footage all you have on our man?” Sam's words faded into the chatter of the smithsonian.
The museum director glanced nervously at Captain Rogers standing nearby, “Yes I'm afraid. We closed the exhibit early due to the incident. Security's been high around here since, well...” The man swallowed nervously. “Uh...if it isn't rude to ask, Captain Roger, Am I helping you on a matter of national importance? I sent the security guard who came in contact with the young man home.”
“You didn't call the police?” Steve asked.
“Well, no.” The director looked a little embarrassed. “It was such a minor thing, really, but my man Rudy was pretty shaken up. After everything that has happened here in Washington, I think everyone's been on edge. I'm not surprised some crazy waltzed in here. It happens sometimes. And after what went on with SHIELD, well, Violence attracts attention, and people who want attention seek out violence.” The director gestured around the Captain America exhibit room. “I'm not saying that this is the right place for it, but you were truly at the heart of that SHIELD thing that's been on the news for weeks. It's no wonder some misguided person saw you, and came here to learn everything they could.”
“I don't want to encourage violence,” Steve muttered, “I just want to stand up for what's right.”
“Well, there's a lot of people out there who have a lot of different ideas about what's right Captain. Sometimes they get the idea that if it's okay for you to go out guns blazing, they can do the same.”
Steve shook his head, feeling just a little annoyed. “Well, thank you director. I'll keep that in mind. But this is a matter of national, and personal importance to me, and I need to talk with the security officer you sent home. You wouldn't happen to have his phone number would you?”
“Of course, Captain Rogers,” The man pulled out a small card. “You can reach him at this number.”
–
Sam Glanced over at Steve who sat tensely in the passenger side of the car.
“Steve, we're going to need help.”
“I know Sam, let's just call the guy and see if there's anything else.” Steve took out his phone and began dialing the number.
“Shit man, we're lucky he didn't lose it completely. Next time we might not be so lucky. How long do you think it will be before Hydra tries to bring its top assassin to heel?”
“They wouldn't be able to get close to him again. He wont go back to them, now that he knows. Now that he has a choice.”
“Yeah, well HYDRA doesn't need to use him, they just have to get close enough keep him quiet Steve.” Steve glared at Sam, and tried to ease the nervous tickle at the back of his throat as the phone connected.
“Hello?”
“Hi this is Captain Steve Rogers, I'm calling about what happened at the museum today. Could you tell me what you saw?”
The other end of the line stayed quiet for a minute before the man on the line let out a ragged breath. “I'm so-sorry Captain America. I sort of lost it. But this guy comes up to my post and starts talking to himself. There was something strange about the way he stood, and as I got closer his eyes just seemed so...dead.” Steve's heartbeat sped up.
“I was about to call in backup on my mic before I saw that he was crying. Just shaking and sort of reaching out to touch the picture framed in front of him.” Steve didn't notice that he was holding his breath.
“And?”
“and that's when the guy noticed me. I saw something metal flashing on his arm, and as soon as I did, the guy had pushed me out of the way and was gone.”
The arm rest under Steve's hand creaked.
“Did the guard hear what he was saying?” Sam was leaning in, his face was placid, but his eyes were as hard as steel.
“Yeah. I heard him repeating this phrase. It was a name and army rank. But then I heard him say something else. I saw him say Brooklyn. Isn't that where you're from Captain?”
Steve was mute. The arm rest beneath his hand tore abruptly. It was a minute before his heart remembered to beat again.
“Yeah...yeah it is. I, I'm sorry I'm just a little shocked. I guess things have just been a little tense the last few weeks. Thanks for the help Rodney.”
“Rudy.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, have a good day off Rudy. Bye.”
Steve hung up the phone and stared into his hands.
“What do you want to do Steve? I feel like this is too simple. Guy shows up at museum, says Brooklyn, where you and he, grew up. Then he leaves, like he's going to run there on his own two feet?”
Sam grabbed Steve's phone and started searching for contacts.
“Sam what are you doing?”
“We need backup Steve, we need to call Iron man. If there's anyone that will be able to help us it's him.”
Steve frowned, “Damn it. I know. I know he's one of the only people I can trust, and that has the resources to help. Did you grab the file?”
“Yeah.” Sam replied. Pointing to a computer bag in the back seat. “Looks like we're headed to New York.”
“Yup.” Steve replied before sinking further into his seat. He felt a headache coming on.
“With Tony Stark's help we'll be able to get to Bucky and cause as little harm as possible.” Sam put the car into gear. Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose wishing more than anything he could have his friend back. He hoped Brooklyn was where Bucky was was headed.
End