Chapter Text
The doorbell rang early Sunday afternoon. Steve looked up from the papers spread all over his kitchen table, hoping that he wouldn't have to get up to answer the door. But the bell rang again. He sighed and dropped his pencil on the table, leaning back against the chair for a moment before standing up.
Steve was tall, but the man at his door was taller.
“Steven Rogers,” Thor said, a smile crossing his face. “It is good to see you again. May I come in?”
“I... uh... yeah, sure.” Steve stepped to the side, making a little gesture with his free hand to wave Thor into his apartment. With a six-and-a-half-foot-tall Norse god in it, it seemed a little smaller than it had a minute ago. Steve closed the door and followed Thor into the kitchen. “Been a while, huh? You can sit down if you want. How's Jane and her science crew? And Asgard?”
Thor took a seat at the kitchen table. “They are well. Jane's research is going even better than she had expected. Asgard is well, too.”
“That's good,” Steve said. An awkward silence followed. “You don't seem to be the kind for social calls, and it doesn't seem like anything's wrong. So why are you here?”
“If I was intruding I can return at another time,” Thor offered, moving as if to stand up.
“No, you're fine. But why are you here, Thor?”
“I heard about your friend. And I am sorry, Captain. But I am here to help you.”
“Help?” Steve repeated.
“I know how it feels when you fight someone you love,” Thor explained, dropping his gaze to his clasped hands. “It is a deeper pain than could come from any wound. In some ways it is a worse pain than losing them.”
“You fought your brother while you were in Asgard, didn't you?” Steve asked.
“Yes,” Thor confirmed. “It was not a pleasant experience for either of us. But he is safe and alive. And the experience brought you to mind. You also had to fight one you loved, but you were unable to know that he even lived.”
“Look, Thor. No offense, but I don't see what you can do about that. Sure, you're a god and all that, but as far as I know you can't change the past. And I don't see what else could help by this point. Bucky won't give himself up and he'll know how to hide himself.” Steve crossed his arms, putting up a barrier to hide behind. It hurt to talk about Bucky. He didn't want to think about everything that had happened. He wanted to remember the smiling, laughing 1940s sergeant. Modern-day Bucky, with his ravaged mind and hatred, was worse than anything Steve had tortured himself with after losing his friend. He wanted to forget it, even though he knew the nightmares wouldn't let him.
“There is no way for even my people to change the past,” Thor admitted. “But we can see present, in all nine realms. Our gatewarden, Heimdall, has the power to see whatever is happening to a person. After I had to destroy the Bridge to stop Loki, he was able to see Jane and tell me that she was alive.”
Steve looked up sharply. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“With your permission, I would ask Heimdall to try to find your friend James Barnes. You would be able to know where he was. After that, I cannot say what will happen, but it is what I can to do help you. Will you come with me?”
Steve glanced around at his apartment. He'd just signed the lease agreement. He'd just finished setting up the furniture. He'd just managed to find a job. He'd just made arrangements to start making a life. He'd just been offered a chance to find Bucky. “Let's go,” he agreed. Thor shifted his grip on his hammer but Steve put a hand out. “Outside my apartment, preferably.”
A nearby back alley served their purpose well enough. Thor started whirling his hammer in a circle, creating a vortex of power. Steve stood next to him, not bothering to try to hide that he was impressed. Within minutes, they appeared in the multistory royal palace of Asgard.
“Are you sure he doesn't mind?” Steve asked for the fifth time s they neared the front gates.
“Steven Rogers, I have answered that question each time you asked it. Heimdall was the one to suggest it. I was merely transportation.”
“So has he already looked?”
“He has not. Permission must be obtained beforehand. It is one of the rules of 'magic', as your people call it.”
Together, they went down the Bridge toward the Bifrost. Thor stayed calm but Steve grew even more and more nervous with practically every step. He was going to hear that Bucky was alive. He was going to learn where and go back to Earth - or Midgard, or whatever anyone wanted to call it – and find Bucky. Or he was going to find out that the one person he cared for most was dead and he was going to attack something with all the force in his body and hope he didn't kill someone.
Just outside the Bifrost, Thor paused. “Steven Rogers, we have been friends for several years. I tell you with all sincerity that I hope you find the answer you most desire. I hope your friend James Barnes is alive.”
Steve stopped and forced himself to take a deep breath. “Thank you, Thor. I guess it was pretty obvious that I was worried, huh?”
Thor grinned and clapped his hand against Steve's shoulder. “I have seen calmer men on the eve of battle. Come, the truth awaits.” Dropping his hand, he led the way into the Bifrost. “Heimdall! This is Steven Rogers. He seeks the truth about a friend whom he lost several months ago.”
Steve gave an awkward wave with one hand. “Yeah, uh, hi. I'm really not that big of a deal.”
Heimdall inclined his head toward both men. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, Steven Rogers. Whom is it that you most desire to find?”
“Bucky,” Steve said, his voice choked to nearly a whisper. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean, uh, James Barnes. Sergeant James Barnes.” Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow, added the voice in his head.
Heimdall turned away from Steve and Thor. The galaxy reflected against his eyes as he searched the realms for any sign. After several long moments, he spoke. “I see him.”
Something in Steve's stomach did a double backflip and caused him to make a strangled noise deep down in his throat. Thor stood silently at his side. “Is he safe?” Steve asked, blurting out the words in a desperate rush that he was sure Heimdall didn't understand. His voice both slowed and softened as he asked, “Is he... is he hurt?”
Heimdall stared out over the galaxy. Several long seconds passed, each one furnishing Steve with new images of Bucky's broken body in the midst of carnage. “No,” he finally said, his voice and posture completely neutral.
All the breath in Steve's body left him in a rush. He quite literally saw stars as he swayed on his feet. Thor looked as if he wanted to pull up a chair for him to sit in but Steve managed to give a smile indicating he was okay.
“But he's confused and lost,” Heimdall added gravely.
The something in Steve's stomach clenched tightly and tears built in his eyes. His nineteen-forties Bucky had always been so strong and steady and sure of himself. Confused and lost just wasn't him. It couldn't be him. But Steve remembered all too well how he had felt when he'd woken up himself, and he knew that Heimdall was right. Unlike Steve, though, Bucky didn't have anyone.
“I'll keep an eye on him,” Heimdall said, turning to face Steve and Thor.
“You have been of the greatest help to us both,” Thor said, shaking Heimdall's hand. He glanced toward Steve as if reminding him to say something similar.
Steve meant to say “Thank you” but his words came out in a crushed-together jumble of quiet words. He felt like a grenade had exploded in his face. Bucky alive. An incoherent prayer of pure joy and thankfulness almost made him lightheaded. Bucky lost and confused. A cold, dead weight of horror slugged him in the face like a mugger with a cinderblock.
“I am glad to have been able to assist you, Steven Rogers,” Heimdall said, graciously overlooking his incoherency. “I hope you find your friend. Thor, will you be returning via the Bifrost or with Mjölnir?”
“Can the Bifrost take us?” Thor asked.
Heimdall allowed himself a small, prideful smile. “The Bifrost could transport a legion of frost giants if you asked.”
Thor laughed and clapped a hand on Heimdall's shoulder. “Then we shall use its power. That is, if you are ready to leave, Steven Rogers?”
“I – huh?” Steve stared blankly at Thor for a moment, wondering for a moment what had happened to his apartment. “Oh! Yeah, right, sure. Ready to go. Are you coming back or...?”
“Unfortunately my duties forbid a return at present, but I hope to return to Midgard in the near future. Darcy has promised to show me a new form of magic called 'mocha cappuccino'. I bid you a fond farewell. May the fortunes lead you to happiness.”
“You too,” Steve said. He and Thor shook hands, and Thor stepped back. Steve's last image of Asgard was of the fading interior of the Bifrost. In just a few minutes, he was back in the alley he and Thor had left him. A feral cat hissed at him, but nobody else seemed to notice his arrival.
Steve was busy the rest of the day. He walked down to his landlord's apartment and explained he was going to be out of town for an indefinite amount of time but his payments would continue.
“Read the agreement?” demanded the landlord. “Your lease will end in a month.”
“Yeah, I know,” Steve said.
“Fine. Leave an address to ship your stuff to if you don't come back in time.”
“Yes, sir.” Then he called Tony and asked for an update on his motorcycle. Tony had 'borrowed' it to fix something or other that he claimed was wrong. Steve hadn't seen the problem, but Tony had been emphatic that some sort of hardwiring system needed to be changed.
“Yeah, sure, I'll have JARVIS order a mindless minion to bring it over,” Stark said absentmindedly. Heavy rock played in the background and Steve was sure he could hear an alarm beeping somewhere. “Ow! Dummy, what did I tell you about not touching the electrical system on this? Anyway, it should be there in an hour. And don't bother telling me the address, I already know it. You have horrible taste in interior decorating. Pepper could really help you out with that.”
“Thank you, Stark,” Steve said, trying to be patient.
“Yeah, sure. Laters.” Tony yelled something indistinct at Dummy and Steve cut the call.
Steve waited for a long time before making the next call. When he finally did, a Russian phrase flowed out of his phone so fast he had no idea what it meant. “Hey, uh, se hable español?” he asked, smiling in spite of himself.
“I speak seven languages but I think you'd be most comfortable with English,” Natasha replied. “What's up, Steve?”
“Thor was in my apartment earlier.”
“Did he hit his head on the ceiling?”
“That's not the point, Natasha. But no. He came to tell me something.”
“Hold on a second.” Steve could hear a cracking noise and a scream, followed by frantic shouting in an unidentifiable and alarms. “Okay, keep talking,” Natasha said, sounding slightly breathless.
“Is this a bad time?” Steve asked.
“No, of course not. I'm multitasking. Remember?”
“Yeah. Anyway, he came with an idea that one of the Asgardians had. Guy named Heimdall, sort of a security warden for this thing called a Bifrost. It's a transportation between the nine realms.”
“I guess taking a bus would be too mainstream.”
“I guess Hawkeye's rubbing off on you.”
“We meet up every second Friday to save the world and eat schwarma. Good times.”
“Is anyone going to attack you in the next thirty seconds?”
“Probably not. Why?”
“I went with Thor.”
“I hope this isn't some sort of confession, Rogers. But if it is, I can recommend a nice Catholic priest down the street from your new apartment.”
“Natasha.”
“Steven.”
“Listen, please.”
“Okay.”
“Heimdall found him.”
“Who, your lost dog?”
“Bucky.”
Something very unrepeatable and very Russian came from Natasha's mouth. “Where?” she demanded.
“A small town in Minnesota.”
“When do we leave?”
“I can't take anyone with me, Natasha.”
“Then why did you tell me?”
“I figured you'd want to know he was alive.”
“Thanks.” Another scream in the background.
“You're welcome. Enjoy your schwarma with Hawkeye this Friday.”
“Next Friday, actually, but thanks. Good luck finding him, Steve. Tell him I'm still going to collect on Budapest.”
Steve smiled. “Sure thing. Talk to you later.”
Natasha tossed out a Russian goodbye and Steve ended the call. Someone knocked on the door and he went to open it. A deliveryman with Stark Industry's logo on it held out a clipboard for him to sign. Once Steve handed the clipboard back, he took the envelope containing the keys and said goodbye. In minutes he was riding north on the interstate.
“I'm coming, Bucky. I promise.”