Chapter Text
Pain greeted his return to consciousness. His body was a mass of angry nerve endings and lacerations. He tasted dirt and ash. With a groan, he spit into the dirt and rolled onto his back.
The sky was a hazy gray, permeated with smoke, dust, and ash that would’ve made it impossible to tell what time it was if not for the sun hanging low in the sky. Still, he didn’t know whether it was morning or afternoon as he had no sense of direction.
He’d literally walked through a portal from Wakanda into the middle of a war smaller in size but bigger in scope than the last one that had claimed his life—World War II. One minute it was the middle of the day, and he was fighting an alien army when he suddenly felt strange. Everything was bathed in soft sunlight as it dissolved around him. Then it reappeared in murky shadows barely visible under the soft glow of a half moon and myriad stars.
He found Sam and the others, but Steve and so many more were gone, with no hint as to where they were or what happened with Thanos.
A portal appeared, a guy stepped through, and then they were back into the fight.
He should be dead. He’d taken a direct hit from the alien ship, but like too many damn times before, he survived. Yay.
“It is good to see you alive, White Wolf.” Ayo appeared, blocking his view of the dim sky, her face covered in dirt and blood. She peered at him with tired eyes. “Can you stand?”
“What happened?” he croaked. Standing wasn’t in the cards just yet. “Did we win?”
“Yes, we won.” Her voice was heavy. “Our victory came at great cost.”
“Steve? T’Challa?”
“They are both alive.”
The air rushed in relief from his lungs, but as he studied the weight of fatigue on her face, he went cold. “Shuri? Sam?”
“They also live.”
They had gotten lucky, but her eyes told him that, despite the victory, no one would be celebrating. Eventually he’d ask what the hell happened, but not now. There hadn’t been much time for a debriefing after he…he…Well, he didn’t know what to call it. The sorcerer had mentioned a blip. The only explanation he and the others had gotten was that five years had passed, the Avengers were fighting Thanos’ army across the ocean, and everyone needed to join the fight to save the universe.
They won. Good. He was tired of fighting, and so very tired of killing. Wherever he went, war seemed to follow him. Even to Wakanda. A week after going into cryogenic suspension in Shuri’s lab, war descended upon Wakanda. He found out about it after they defrosted him, and even though he was out of the picture, and it had nothing to do with him, the timing was suspicious, as if some cosmic force had cursed him so that wherever he found himself, death and destruction followed.
But that was just silly. He’d stopped believing in God a long time ago. There was no single cosmic force, just a bunch of assholes all over the universe that refused to let peace linger for long.
A hum filled the air that he instantly identified as Sam’s jet pack, and it was then that he realized he’d closed his eyes again. He opened them just in time to see the man land with a thud a few feet away, sending up a soft cloud of dust and ash.
“Oh, good. For a moment, I thought you were dead.” Sam looked at Ayo, his expression as grim as hers. “We’ve got a lot of dying and wounded to tend to.”
Which meant he should get off his ass and help. The second he moved to sit up, a sharp, hot pain snaked along his ribs to his back. He gritted his teeth and rolled over instead, working his legs beneath him.
“Hey, man, you look pretty banged up,” Sam said. “Maybe you should stay still until someone can take a look at you.”
He knew what battlefield medicine looked like. If you could walk, you were needed, and he could walk.
Or wobble, maybe. He pushed to his feet with a grunt and swayed until Sam and Ayo grabbed him from either side.
He looked around for his weapon, spotting bodies half-buried beneath rubble and dirt, and saw the firearm a couple of feet away, coated with dirt and grime. The muzzle was bent, rendering the weapon useless. It was a good thing the battle was over.
He straightened, planting his legs firmly beneath him, and said, “Go. I’m okay. I’ll look for wounded.”
“You sure?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, go.”
Ayo gave him an approving nod, but before the two left, he needed to know. “Who?” By the looks on their faces, especially Sam’s, he knew someone’s death hit too close.
Sam hesitated a moment, and something that looked vaguely sympathetic crossed his face. “Tony Stark.”
Oh.
No.
-0- -0- -0-
Stephen Strange had just closed another portal after ferrying a group of Wakandans back home when the long-haired figure limped up to him.
“You’re Doctor Stephen Strange, right?”
“Yes.” He turned away to look for more people in need.
He recognized the man as James Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, the fugitive at the center of the dissolution of the Avengers. “Do you need me to ferry you somewhere, or do you need medical attention?” He glanced back at Barnes, noting the visible injuries on his face and legs.
“I’m not entirely sure what happened here, but I heard we lost Vision just before the Blip happened, that Thanos got the time stone after it was destroyed by turning back time and resurrecting Vision. Is that true?”
Stephen nodded. “Yes, but now’s not really the time for a debriefing, Sergeant.” He walked away to find people who really needed his help.
“How did that work, exactly?”
Strange sighed, not bothering to slow down as Barnes limped after him. He was weary and in no mood for impertinent questions, and he didn’t have the time to play twenty questions with a neurologically-impaired relic. The guy would have to catch up on his own time.
“I’m kinda busy right now.”
“Look” —Barnes’ kept up the pace surprisingly well for someone who looked like he had been hit by a truck— “I don’t know how any of this works with the stones or magic, if that’s what you call it, so this might be a stupid question, but is there any reason the time stone can’t be used on Stark in the same way?”
Stephen stopped mid-stride, turning slowly toward Barnes. He’d judged the man prematurely. How was it possible that some transplant from the second World War who probably suffered significant brain damage over the course of 80 years and barely knew anything about the infinity stones came up with an idea that hadn’t even crossed his mind?
“Uh…No. There isn’t.” As long as Wong didn’t object. Maybe this was a case of it being better to ask forgiveness than permission. It worked with Vision. It worked in the battle against Darmammu. It could work now.
“So, you can turn anything back in time—to a previous state—without affecting the people and things around them?” Barnes asked.
“Yes.”
“And if you rewind that person, it doesn’t erase what they did?”
“No, only the person is affected if you narrow the scope of the time stone’s effect. It’s tricky, and it takes skill.”
“Okay, so if you rewind Tony to before he used the Gauntlet, we’ll still have won, but he’ll be alive. He won’t remember that he saved the universe, though, because for him, that would not have happened yet, even though it did happen?”
Stephen nodded. For a guy born in 1917, he grasped the intricacies of temporal manipulation surprisingly well. “Crudely stated but accurate.”
“One more question….”
Stephen gave the man his full attention.
-0- -0- -0-
In the seven seconds it took the sorcerer to announce his intention to the group of battle-weary and grief-stricken Avengers, Steve Rogers went from devastated to hopeful. Tony’s body had been gently laid on the ground while everyone tended to the wounded. People came and paid their respects in whatever ways fit their custom. Pepper, Rhodey, and Peter walked around in a semi-daze, helping where they could, but all of them in obvious shock. Surprisingly, Pepper put on the bravest face of the three, focusing on the injured and doing what needed to be done, but Steve watched her when he could, and every so often, he saw the crack in her expression—the swell of fresh tears, the crumple of grief, the trembling of her lower lip.
Once, he tried to steer her to rest, but she waved him off and hurried away to kneel next to a groaning soldier.
Her eyes were wide now and she stared at Dr. Strange. “Then do it! Yes, if there’s a chance, yes.”
There wasn’t any point in discussing it. Steve nodded, giving Bucky a grateful smile. Of all the people to come up with the idea, it was Bucky, and the significance of that wasn’t lost on Steve. It likely wasn’t lost on anyone. If the idea worked, how would Tony react when he learned that the man he hated most in the world helped save his life?
Strange slipped the gauntlet onto his right hand with only the green time stone embedded and held his palm toward Tony’s limp figure.
“Uh…..”
Everyone looked up at Wong, walking up with his arms crossed. His gaze swept the group, then hovered on Strange. Finally, he sighed and looked heavenward. “Whatever. Why not?”
Strange’s lips twitched, and he gave a nod, then refocused his attention on Tony. A green disc appeared in the air, and the gauntlet turned counterclockwise. As it did, time coursed backward in front of them, and within a few seconds, Tony was sitting upright, wide-eyed and wonderfully alive.
“What happened?” Tony looked around frantically in obvious confusion. “Where’s Thanos? Did we win? Tell me we won.”
Pepper and Peter descended on him immediately, squeezing him so hard that Tony’s damaged suit creaked and he tapped out with a strangled gasp on Peter’s shoulder before the kid released him with a hasty, wet-eyed apology.
Tony’s eyes went to the gauntlet that Strange was slipping off his hand. “You sly sorcerer.”
Steve felt all of his one-hundred-and-five years after going fist-to-head with Thanos, and as relief flooded him—relief that it worked, that they’d won, and that they’d manage to bring everyone who’d been snapped back—his legs almost gave out. He swayed, but Thor was there with a hand on his arm.
“Well,” Strange answered, “you owe at least half….”
“Good thinking, Doc,” Bucky interjected quickly. He looked barely steady on his feet. Half his face was coated with dirt and blood, and more blood covered his torn jacket and right pantleg.
Strange raised his eyebrows, glanced between them, then shrugged and sighed as he faced Bucky. “So, have you decided on when?”
When…what? Steve was about to ask, trying to wrap his head around what was happening, both disappointed and proud that Bucky didn’t want Tony to know the whole thing was his idea. Tony had stopped paying attention, otherwise occupied by friends alternating between high-fiving him and squeezing the life out of him.
“I guess the last time I was all me.” Bucky gave a weak, lopsided smile and glanced down at his left arm. “The train. The Alps. Before I fell.”
“Wait. What?” Steve hobbled toward Bucky, pushing back the mélange of aches and pains, and searched his friend’s face. There was a tiredness behind those familiar eyes but also a glimmer of something new, not quite hope, but a glint that hadn’t been there before.
“No. That’s not a toy,” Wong spoke up. “Once was enough. Let’s quit while we’re ahead before you create an infinite time loop or break something in the time-space continuum.”
Strange faced Wong with an exasperated tilt of his head. “Once we return the stones, that’s it. This is pretty much the guy’s only chance, and besides, I’m pretty good with the stone.”
Steve was beginning to catch on to what they were planning, but it scared the hell out of him, even as he understood instantly all the reasons Bucky wanted to do it.
Wong shook his head and sucked in a deep breath. “This is the last time, then we return the stones…and I’m not here for this.” He turned and walked away.
A ghost of a smile played on Strange’s lips as he watched Wong leave, then he turned to Bucky. “Sergeant, are you sure about this? There’s no reversing it since we’ll be returning the stones, and it means who you are now will cease to exist. In a way, you’ll be committing suicide.”
“For me, the last eighty years wouldn’t have happened, right? No code words. No nightmares and no memories to suppress because none of them will have been formed. Right? I’ll be exactly who I was that day.” Bucky’s eyes found Steve’s, and there was an unspoken plea in them.
Despite everything that had happened, Steve could still read Bucky, and he knew a goodbye when he saw it. He pulled his friend against him. “You sure about this?”
“Yeah.” Bucky’s arms wrapped around him, and he leaned against Steve as though he could barely stand up. That made two of them. After a moment, Bucky straightened and pulled back. “It won’t change what I’ve done, but at least I won’t have any of it in my head. Everything Hydra did to me will be erased, and frankly, there’s not much from the last 80 years that I want to remember. I think it’s the only way….”
The only way for Bucky to move forward.
“Well, then, I’ll be here for you. There’ll be a lot to explain.” Steve smiled at him. “You sure you don’t want to go back to before the war?”
Bucky shook his head. “There are things I’d like to forget about the war, of course. A lot of things. But there are things I want to remember, as well. The Howlies. You and me. I can deal with the rest. It’s a cake walk in comparison to what came after.”
“Okay then.” Strange slipped the glove back on.
“Can I have a few minutes?” Bucky asked. “I imagine my younger self is going to have a lot of questions, so I’d like to make a video. I’m not sure 1945 me is going to believe that any of this”—Bucky swept an arm out—”is real unless, maybe, it comes from both me and Steve.”
Steve nodded, thinking back to the mission in the Alps in 1945 and trying to imagine how that version of Bucky would react to suddenly finding himself here, in 2023, during the aftermath of an alien war with Banner-Hulk, Thor, Wakandans, and all the other fantastic and bizarre enhanced individuals.
Even though he’d grown up with Bucky and thought he knew how that version of Bucky would react to almost anything, he found himself at a loss. How would anyone react to that?
Banner walked up, almost hesitant in the way he approached cautiously, shifting on his feet. “Uh…if you’re going to do this, would you mind if I took a blood sample from you now? If I can find equipment.” He looked around. “Maybe one of the sorcerers can help.”
Bucky’s expression took a hard shift, and Steve knew why the request didn’t sit well with him. Bucky didn’t know Banner like he did. He’d been a science experiment for too long, and with the exception of the Wakandans, he probably wanted nothing to do with crazy mad scientists.
Bruce kind of fit that bill, even if he had the best of intentions.
“Why?” Bucky asked.
“Well, I’m hoping to figure out a way to de-hulk myself for good, and the serum I injected myself with is related to the serum Rogers got and maybe the one you got. I don’t have a large subject pool, so it would be useful for me to take samples of your blood before and after your transformation to identify and isolate changes in your blood, DNA, and other biomarkers. It might help lead to a breakthrough. It’s a bit of a long shot, but—”
“Okay, fine.” Bucky eyed Wong, who was hovering over a fallen warrior. “But you have about as long as it’ll take me to make a video to figure out where to get equipment for a blood draw.”
“Well, fortunately, they can make portals, so, I guess I’ll be back in a moment.” Then he, too, turned and left.
Steve dropped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and steered him away from Strange and the cluster of Avengers so they could have a moment of privacy. When they were out of earshot, he faced his friend. “I guess this is a goodbye, of sorts.”
Even though he knew Bucky wasn’t really dying, Doctor Strange’s words hit hard. This version of Bucky would cease to exist. He wouldn’t remember anything that happened after 1945 because for him, it wouldn’t have happened. The man he was now—which was so very different from the man he used to be—would be wiped out of existence.
“Think of it as, I’ll see you later…or earlier,” Bucky said with a soft smile.
“You’re really sure about this?”
He looked away briefly, his gaze going distant, and gave a slow nod. “What I am now, Hydra made me. If there’s a chance it can all be undone, I need to take that chance.” He looked directly at Steve. “Wouldn’t you do the same thing?”
He would. Probably. “Okay.” He pulled Bucky into another brief, firm hug. “Thanks for Tony. He should know.”
Bucky pulled away. “If he ever forgives me for what I did, it should be because he comes to that on his own, not because he feels obligated.”
Forgive. The word choice mattered, highlighting the undercurrent of guilt lingering in Bucky’s blue eyes. As Steve studied his friend, he realized it was more than guilt. Bucky was ashamed.
“You don’t need forgiveness, Buck. You’re a victim.”
“Most of the world would disagree.”
Steve had no response to that, but Bucky had just helped save the world—again—and if the world continued to see him as a psycho killer, the world could, frankly, go to hell.
He was tired of people like Ross, Zemo, and all the others who pushed their own twisted agendas at the expense of good people who stood in their way.
-0- -0- -0-
Steve, Sam, Shuri, and Dr. Strange clustered around in the torn battlefield while Bruce finished the blood draw. “Okay, that should be all.” Bruce slid the needle out of Bucky’s vein and placed three vials of blood into a case. “Thank you.”
Bucky flashed a weak smile. “I hope it helps.” Maybe the serum flowing through his veins could do some good for once. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew the cell phone Sam had lent him, handing it back to the man. Undamaged cell phones were in short supply after the battle with Thanos. “Thanks.”
Sam pocketed it. “You have my word. I won’t peak at your little video diary, though you know telling me that has made me insanely curious. Did you say anything about me?”
Bucky held back a smile. He had, but that should stay between him and himself. He looked at Dr. Strange. “I’m ready.”
They’d done about as much cleanup as they could, and the sorcerers had whisked the worst of the injured to various medical facilities, including Wakanda. The dead had been tagged and sent home to be mourned or, in the case of a few people too mangled to identify, stored for proper identification later in a Wakandan facility.
“So, I heard the news.” Tony limped up to the group, accompanied by Pepper, Peter, Rhodey, T’Challa, Shuri, and Ayo. He was out of the suit and wearing jeans and a sweater. “You want a do-over?”
A do-over. Bucky held Tony’s gaze, but every part of him wanted to be far away from the man to avoid a repeat of what happened in Siberia. It had been seven years for Tony and two for him. He wasn’t sure if seven years was enough time to come to terms with watching the video of your parents’ murder, but by the look in Tony’s eyes, he wasn’t over it yet.
Steve slid in between Stark and Bucky. “Tony—”
“Stop, Rogers.” Tony held up a hand. “I’m not out for blood. I’ll leave that to Ross. I’ve got a little girl to raise.”
“Yeah, thanks to this guy,” Sam jabbed a thumb at Bucky.
How the hell did Sam know he’d brought the idea to Strange? Bucky stared at the man, shocked. He hadn’t been in ear shot at the time. From the corner of his eye, he caught a shift of expression on Steve’s face and turned to him.
“I, uh, mentioned it.” Steve somehow looked both apologetic and pleased. Then, in a serious tone that didn’t quite sound genuine, he told Sam. “That was supposed to be kept close to the vest.”
“What the hell do you mean?” Tony asked. “Dr. Strange—”
“Yes,” Strange said with a solemn nod, “I did, because he asked a not-so-stupid question—whether it was possible to use the time stone to bring you back. Frankly, it wasn’t even on my radar, so you’d still be dead if he hadn’t asked.”
“That so?” Tony’s expression went blank as he stared at Bucky. “You think saving my life twice makes up for what you did?”
“Twice?” Steve asked.
Bucky knew what Tony meant. During the battle, there’d been a hairy moment when Tony was almost overwhelmed. He’d fired off a few shots to clear a path, allowing the man to escape. Tony noticed, gave him a brief nod. At the time, he figured it was a temporary truce.
Obviously very temporary.
“Well, turns out there’s nothing to make up for,” Tony said. “I had some alone time in the bunker and went through boxes of horrible stuff that I wish I could scrub out of my memory. Plus, I’ve had a few years to calm down. Sorry for trying to kill you. Doesn’t mean I want to be best buds, though. Truce?”
The unexpectedness of Tony’s olive branch left him temporarily at a loss for words. He had a pretty good idea what types of things Tony had found in that bunker. Photos. Videos. Medical and research notes. Mission reports.
Murder. Rape. Torture.
Things he was within seconds of erasing, at least from his brain and body. It wouldn’t erase the missions, the tapes, the photos, or bring back his victims, but none of it would have happened to him. Maybe with a fresh mind, he’d actually have a shot at a normal life, even if he had to change his name and find some quiet corner of the world to live out his days.
He managed a quick nod, still not trusting his voice, and took one final look at Steve—the one constant in his life and the best friend he’d ever had, currently the only friend he had….
Except, perhaps, for a handful of Wakandans to whom he owed more than he could ever repay, but even their friendship was nebulous. He felt like an interloper, a broken thing they took pity on and tried to fix. He appreciated all they had done for him, but at some level, he knew they had to be relieved to get rid of him.
He was a reminder of T’Chaka’s death and a mistake T’Challa felt guilty for. Everyone deserved to finally move on.
He cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows at Steve, hoping he came off braver than he felt. “See you on the other side, pal.”
“Wait!” Peter rushed forward, and Bucky instinctively tensed.
Arms wrapped around him, reawakening the pains along his back and ribs, their hold so strong they made it hard to breathe. He found himself with his arms trapped at his sides and the kid’s head pressed into his collarbone.
“Thank you,” Peter said, his words muffled. “Sorry I tried to arrest you in Berlin.”
“It’s…water under…the bridge, kid,” Bucky gasped, even as he found himself bending his pinned arms to pat the kid on the back. “Ease up.”
Peter stepped back. “Oh, sorry.”
“You ready?” Strange raised the glove, and the green time stone glowed.
Bucky inhaled all the air his lungs could hold. “As I’ll ever be.”