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The call comes at 3:43 am.
Steve rolls over in bed, fumbling for the phone, any thought of sleep fading as he sees who’s calling. “Sam?”
“Bucky's gone.”
Steve is out of bed in an instant, pulling on pants and snatching up shoes as he dashes out the door. They'd only just tracked Bucky down, after almost two years of searching. The man's mind is a mess, Steve can't deny that, but he's sure he's been seeing more and more of his old friend every day since Sam had finally caught up to him. “What do you mean gone?”
Steve jabs the buttons for the elevator, considering if he should wake any of the other team members in the Avengers Compound. Rhodey and Vision are too close to Tony, and he doesn’t want Tony in on this, not yet, not considering what Steve had found out about his parents. Wanda? No, too new. He doesn’t want to put her in the position of lying to a team she’s just joined. Clint’s retired, Bruce is gone, and Thor is who knows where. Which leaves—
When the elevator doors open, she’s already waiting for him, dressed for battle. Steve steps in beside the Black Widow, pressing the button for the basement. “Do I even want to know?”
“I have a sixth sense about these things. I know your movements before you make them.”
The floors on the elevator whoosh past. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve catches Natasha’s smirk as she says, “Sam called me too.”
“You don’t have to get involved.”
Natasha lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m involved.”
They make the trip to the abandoned rec room where, up until the early hours of that morning, Steve had been holding Bucky Barnes.
The room is empty.
“Sam?” Steve calls. No response.
Natasha is already exploring, looking for clues. “Steve.” Steve hurries over to where she’s crouching over—
A trail of blood. As though something was dragged from the room.
Steve snatches for his phone, dialing Sam. It rings. Once, twice, three times.
On the third ring, someone picks up. “Sam? Are you okay?”
No response. Just heavy breathing.
“If Sam is there, put him on.” Steve locks eyes with Natasha. If she’s as scared as he is, she’s not showing it.
Nothing but breathing on the other end of the phone. Steve swallows, then rasps, “Bucky?”
The phone line goes dead.
Steve curses but Natasha is already moving, pulling out her own phone. “I can track Sam,” she says, already moving towards the door. “It’ll take a minute. Steve, was Barnes...”
She leaves the question in the air. Had Bucky been Bucky when Sam had last seen him, or the Winter Soldier?
”Steve.” The sound of his name drags his eyes away from the drying blood. "You should put the suit on."
The tiny red dot that represents Sam’s phone blinks against a background that is entirely blue. Steve had assumed that meant that Sam, or Bucky, or both, are now on a ship, but Natasha had shaken her head. “Moving at that speed? They’re in the air.”
Now they sit alongside one another on their borrowed quinjet, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon, staining the sky gold and orange. In any other scenario, it would be beautiful, but Steve can't take his eyes off his phone, turning it over in his hands.
“They’re going to be okay,” Natasha assures him, piloting the quinjet over the open water. “You said Bucky was starting to remember."
”Yeah. Starting to.”
“He won’t hurt Sam," Natasha continues. "But even if he does, it won’t be your fault.”
Steve looks sideways at her. “Sam’s only here because of me. Because I dragged him into this whole situation.”
“You don’t drag anyone anywhere, Steve. You lead them. And people want to follow. Like I did.” She adds softly, “We’ll get them back.”
Steve runs his fingers through his normally neat hair. “I don’t understand why Bucky would do this.” He fiddles with the Captain America cowl in his lap. “If he had regressed or forgotten we were helping him…I could see something like that triggering an escape. But why take Sam with him?”
“There’s a possibility Sam volunteered,” Natasha answers. “That he saw that Barnes was going to escape no matter what and decided it would be best if he weren’t alone.”
“Why would he do that? Sam doesn’t even know Bucky.”
“He knows you,” Natasha answers. “I would have done the same thing.” Then she adds, “And you would have done it for us. You know that.”
“That’s different.”
“How? How is you risking yourself for your friends different than them risking themselves for you?”
Steve doesn’t have an answer for that, but he’s spared from finding one. The dot that marks Sam’s phone is close now, and they can both see where it’s coming from.
There’s a second aircraft up ahead, its cargo hold open, no markings on either side.
“Nat,” Steve says, tugging on his cowl and clipping it in place. “I don’t think Sam volunteered.”
The back of the cargo hold is lined with soldiers, clad in black, the HYDRA logo emblazoned on their uniforms.
Natasha narrows her eyes. “We destroyed HYDRA.”
“I think we missed a few.”
Steve is already moving to the back of the quinjet. Natasha looks from him to the plane ahead, seeing what he’s going to do. “Keep us in the air,” Steve orders.
Natasha nods. “See you in a bit, then?”
“Sure.”
Then Steve is climbing out onto the roof of the quinjet, keeping a firm grip as Natasha accelerates, bringing their aircraft right behind HYDRA’s. The agents are shouting, raising guns, bullets pinging off the jet as Steve raises his shield, takes a couple of steps back, and then flings himself off the airplane and into open air.
For a moment, there is nothing but wind and sea spray and adrenaline, then Steve’s boots hit metal and he’s fighting off guns and knives and tasers until there is no one but him and the pilot left in the plane.
The pilot lifts a handgun and points it at Steve’s chest. Steve raises his eyebrows at her. “Seriously?”
The pilot looks from Captain America to the pile of unconscious HYDRA bodies. She lowers her gun.
“Good choice.” Steve casts his eyes around the plane. No Sam. No Bucky. “Barnes. Wilson. Where are they?”
In response, the pilot silently hands Steve Sam’s phone, making Steve let loose a string of colorful curses.
“You’ve spent too much time around Tony,” Natasha’s voice buzzes in his ear.
“They’re not here,” Steve replies into the comms. “They knew we’d follow Sam’s phone.” He looks back at the HYDRA pilot. “Where are they? Don’t make me ask you again.”
“Steve,” Natasha says. “Look down.”
There. Bobbing on the waves is a concrete base.
With a swift blow to the head, the HYDRA pilot is unconscious and Steve is in the driver’s seat, angling the plane down to the base. “You coming, Romanoff?”
She’s already next to him, buckling into the co-pilot’s chair.
“Quinjet?” he asks.
“On autopilot back to the Compound. You know how to fly one of these things, Rogers?”
“My past experience with planes making you nervous?”
“Only the landing part.”
Steve prepares the plane. “What do you think we’re going to find down there? Because my money would be on a lot of surprised HYDRA agents expecting their buddies. What?” he asks when Natasha stays quiet.
“I think they’re expecting you.”
Steve raises his eyebrows at her. “Me?”
“Sam’s phone. If they didn't want you to follow him, why not destroy it?"
“You don’t think they took it up here to mislead us while they took Sam and Bucky somewhere else?”
“Where would that somewhere else be? We destroyed all their bases.”
“And yet we’re about to land on one. If they wanted us to follow Sam and Bucky, why not take the phone straight there?”
“Because I'm guessing that is a place where not even Tony’s phones can be traced.” Natasha purses her lips, still calculating. “Something’s not right.”
“Our friends are missing.”
“More than that.”
“Are you going to let me in on what you’re thinking?”
“I’m thinking trap. I think we’re doing exactly what they’re expecting us to do.”
“Expecting me to do,” Steve corrects her. “They don't know you're with me.”
Natasha reads the intent in the words. “Steve.”
“You know I’m right.”
“I can’t just leave you and Sam—”
“Just drop me off. Take the plane back to the base. Get the team.” When she goes to protest, Steve cuts her off. “You know this is the best plan.”
Natasha sighs, relenting. “Doesn’t mean I like it. Ready?”
Steve nods, and Natasha takes over the plane’s controls. “Steve?" She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“You know me.”
“Yeah, unfortunately I do.”
Then he’s out of the plane, rolling along a concrete landing pad and springing to his feet as the HYDRA planes steers away from the base. Steve looks up, getting his bearings.
That is a lot of guns.
He raises his shield and the noise is deafening, but he’s already running, crouching behind the vibranium as bullets ricochet off the metal. The moment he reaches cover behind a pile of storage containers, he throws it and is rewarded with yells of pain before the shield returns to his arm and he’s moving again.
Steve barrels around a corner, straight into three HYDRA agents and then it’s hand-to-hand combat, one punch to the jaw and a second to the stomach. He cops a blow to the ribs but barely feels it and the second one is down then so is the third. Another throw of the shield, another cry. As soon as the familiar weight is back on his wrist he’s pushing open a door and, inside, good. Inside is progress.
He crushes the handle in one hand, locking the door behind him as he hears angry shouts behind the metal. More bullets. More guns. Then more HYDRA agents fall. He moves forward and—
Pain. His shoulder is hot and heavy. Shot? He spots movement and off goes the shield, and then he’s catching it again as he feels his shoulder. Grazed. Some blood. That’s fine. He can deal with that later.
An alarm is going off somewhere on the base. So they know he’s here. Fine. If Natasha was right— and she usually is—they were expecting him anyway.
Steve heads into the belly of the ship. If they're keeping Sam and Bucky anywhere on board, it will be where the ship is most secure.
After the initial flurry of action, the base is quiet. Steve meets no opposition as he kicks in doors, setting off more alarms, but no one seems to be responding to them.
I’m thinking trap. I think we’re doing exactly what they’re expecting us to do.
Natasha’s words ring in his head as he travels further into the belly of the ship, putting layers between himself and the open sky. He shakes off the growing claustrophobia and pushes forward anyway.
He rounds another corner and—there. A door that seems more heavily armed than the others. Whatever’s on the other side, he’s ready.
The door caves in with a savage kick and then Steve is through it, ready to fight, ready to do whatever’s necessary. He’s not ready for the sight that greets him.
Bucky, in full Winter Soldier attire, stands in the middle of the room, his metal arm wrapped tightly around Sam’s throat.
Applause. One at first, then many. Steve rips his eyes away from Sam and Bucky to take in the room.
It’s a large, round metal chamber. A steel railing is situated about halfway up the wall, lined with HYDRA agents and sniper rifles, all of which are pointed at Steve’s chest. At the front of the room, more agents stand next to a dimly glowing box, about the size of a dinner table.
A woman steps out from behind the box, still applauding heartily as she approaches where Bucky is holding Sam hostage. She’s somewhere in her late forties or early fifties, in a general’s attire emblazoned with the HYDRA logo.
“Captain America,” she welcomes Steve. “So glad you could join us. We had a betting pool on how long it would take. I admit I lost—even I didn’t expect you to get here as fast as you did.”
Steve turns back to his friends, keeping the general in the corner of his eye. “Bucky,” he says, willing some recognition to return to his old friend’s eyes. Nothing. Steve looks at Sam instead. “Are you okay?”
“Peachy,” Sam gets out. The word makes Bucky squeeze a little tighter, and Sam winces. Steve starts forward, but the general’s next words make him jerk to a halt.
“Come any closer and I will have our Asset break Wilson’s neck.”
Steve turns his full attention to the woman. “Who are you?”
“General Katrin Riegal of HYDRA.”
“I got the ‘of HYDRA’ part. We’ve spent the past few months destroying you.”
“But not all of us, Rogers. When you cut off one head—”
“Yeah, I’ve heard the manifesto,” Steve shoots at her. “Gotta say, I’m still not buying.” He turns back to Bucky. “Bucky, come on, I know you’re in there.”
Bucky looks back at him, eyes blank over the mask.
“Bucky.”
Is it just his desperate imagination, or was that a flicker of recognition in Bucky’s eyes?
“Asset,” Riegal commands, and then the Winter Soldier is pressing down on Sam’s windpipe.
“Bucky! Stop!”
“You do not speak to the Asset,” Riegal instructs Steve. “Do you understand, soldier?”
“Bucky, come on, you know this isn’t you.”
Sam is pulling at the metal arm to no avail, his cheeks turning a dark purple as he fights for breath. Steve starts forward, but Bucky responds by wrapping his arm over Sam’s head, in a position to break his neck in a second and still Sam isn’t breathing—
“Alright! I won’t talk to him!”
Riegal nods to Bucky, and he loosens his grip. Sam gasps, the sound horrible and rasping.
“Let them go,” Steve orders. “Now.”
“The Asset is our property,” Riegal replies. “He remains with us. Wilson, however, we are prepared to strike a deal for.”
“Steve, don’t you dare give this Red Skull wannabee a single damn—"
“Silence him,” Riegal orders Bucky, and immediately Bucky clamps a hand over Sam’s mouth, reducing the rest of the sentence to muffled cursing.
Steve’s eyes dart from Sam, to Riegal, to the glowing box at Riegal’s side. Steve does not trust HYDRA with glowing boxes.
Riegal follows Steve’s gaze and smiles. “Ah yes. We will come to that. But first, our deal.”
“I’m not really in the market of making deals with HYDRA.”
“If you value Wilson’s life, you will do exactly as we ask.”
“Which is?” He’s stalling, and Riegal knows it.
“We wish to have our Asset back. Captain America knows better than to steal from others, doesn’t he?”
“You’re not taking Bucky anywhere.”
The words are met with a horrifying crack followed by a muffled cry of pain. Steve’s head whips over to where Bucky now has one of Sam’s wrists in his metal arm. Sam’s arm is twisted at an unnatural angle, clearly broken. It takes everything in Steve’s power to not rush forward and tug his friend out of the Winter Soldier’s grip, but, for Sam's sake, Steve makes himself stay where he is.
“As I was saying,” Riegal continues. “We wish to take what is rightfully ours. Our Asset will return to HYDRA. We understand that your team will not give up looking for him. Therefore, we also require some leverage to assure that we have time to gather our resources and re-establish our bases before the Avengers begin their war with us once again. Your choice, Rogers, is whether that leverage will be Wilson, or yourself.”
Her words are some kind of signal because two HYDRA operatives are turning the glowing box around so Steve can see the front and—
“Interesting.” Riegal runs her hands almost lovingly over the box. “They say Captain America is a man without fear. Am I proving that legend false, Rogers?”
It’s a cryo chamber. Just big enough to fit one person, with metal restraints to keep that person in place.
Sam twists around in Bucky’s grip to see what Steve is looking at, managing to get out “Steve, no—” before Bucky regains his grip on Sam’s mouth, his hand cutting off the rest of the words.
Steve’s brain is going at full speed, trying to weigh options, thinking of a way to get all of them out, or at least Sam and Bucky—
“If you let Sam and Bucky go, I’ll do it.”
Riegal waggles her finger at Steve like he’s a child. “You are stubborn, aren’t you? Asset—break Wilson’s other arm.”
“Don’t!” Steve cries out but it’s too late. A second snap echoes through the metal room and Steve is running out of time, out of options—
“The Asset stays,” Riegal warns Steve. “That is non-negotiable. The choice here is whether you climb in this cryo chamber, or Wilson does.”
Steve looks over at Sam, who’s trying to shake his head on him despite Bucky’s grip around his mouth, eyes telling him Don’t you dare, Cap.
“How will I know you’ll guarantee Sam’s safety if I’m frozen?” Frozen. The word itself makes his heart pound.
“You’re stalling, Rogers.”
“It’s a fair question.”
“I suppose you think you can draw this out long enough that Romanoff will show up with the rest of your team. They can’t be too far away now.”
As if on cue, a ruckus is suddenly heard on the upper decks, pounding through the roof of the room they’re standing in.
“Contact Romanoff,” Riegal states. “Tell her to send one of your team in—just one—to collect Wilson. Your safety is then in their hands. If they leave our ship intact and without delay, we will return you to them when we believe we are at a safe distance from the Avengers. Is that understood?”
Steve casts another glance over to Sam, then back to Riegal. Riegal taps her foot, growing impatient.
“I don’t believe you,” Steve tells her flatly.
“Then sign Sam Wilson’s death warrant.”
He’s out of time. No more stalling, no more bargaining. His team is finally here and even that isn’t enough to make a difference to their situation.
Steve places one finger against his comms. “Romanoff?” He ignores Sam’s muffled shouts of protest as Natasha’s voice rings in his ear.
“Rogers? Where are you?”
“There’s a room in the very center of the ship. Nat, listen to me.” He can hear her hesitate at the use of the nickname. “I need you to send Rhodes down here. Just Rhodes.”
“What’s going on, Steve?”
“Get Rhodey to come pick up Sam. Then you have to leave. You all have to leave.”
“Why are you making it sound like you’re not coming with us?”
“I just need you to trust me.”
He hears her frustrated sigh over the comms. “What did I tell you about doing something stupid?”
“Promise me you’ll do this.”
She hesitates, then gives in. “I promise.”
“Thank you, Natasha.” He turns to where Riegal is waiting. She gestures to the cryo chamber, indicating Steve's next move.
It feels like Steve’s lungs are closing in on him. Asthma attack, he thinks before remembering he hasn’t had an asthma attack since 1943. He approaches the chamber, mind still racing, trying to think of a way out of this. Surely he isn't going to just let HYDRA take Bucky back, again. He can’t, no one else even knows…
Sam knows. Natasha knows. They’ll come for him.
With only that thought for comfort, Steve climbs into the cryo chamber and allows Riegal to start locking the metal restraints into place, over his wrists, his ankles, his legs, his chest…
There’s a whir of repulsors and then a suit of metallic grey is flying into the room, guns at the ready, and Riegal is pressing her gun against Steve's forehead. Rhodey slows, taking in the scene. “Captain.”
“Colonel.”
"Orders?”
“Take Sam and leave the ship.”
Even though he can’t see Rhodey’s face, the reluctance in his teammate’s body language is clear. “Steve…”
“Captain’s orders. Trust me.”
Slowly, the War Machine suit lands, approaching Bucky and Sam. The Winter Soldier passes Sam into Rhodey’s arms. The moment he’s free, Sam is scrambling to get to Steve, broken wrists be damned.
“Rhodey, stop him,” Steve orders.
Rhodey grips Sam around the waist and Sam lets go a shout of frustration of being passed from one captor to another. “Steve!” he yells, as Rhodey prepares to fly them out of there. “You can’t do this!”
“Go,” Steve presses him. “I got this. Rhodes, get him out of here.”
Steve doesn’t watch as Rhodey carries his friend away—he’s too busy focusing on Riegel’s hand on the lid of the cryo chamber, about to slam it shut. Before she does so, she reaches forward and tugs the comm out of Steve’s ear, plugging it into her own. “Agent Romanoff?”
There’s a pause. Then— “Speaking.”
“Wilson is safe, but we still have Rogers. Retreat from the ship, and we will return him to you when and if we have reason to believe we are safe from the Avengers."
“No, you won’t,” Steve says as Riegal pulls the comm from her ear and crushes it under her boot.
“Don’t worry, Rogers.” Riegal checks the restraints one more time, making sure that Steve can’t move a muscle. “You’ll be back with them soon enough.”
It’s the last thing he hears before the lid to the cryo chamber is slammed shut and an all too familiar coldness starts seeping into his bones, pulling him into an unwilling sleep.