Chapter Text
A blaring sound shocks Steve awake. For an instant, his sleep-addled mind thinks it's an air raid. Then his sense of time and place reorient. He's in his room; in the upstate compound and the noise that's startled him to consciousness is the perimeter alarm.
He's up, out of bed, across the room, grabbing the shield from where it leans against the wall by the door and out into the corridor in a moment.
Sam emerges from his room down the hall a second later in a pair of grey pajama pants and a faded Air Force t-shirt.
Steve hears the crack of thick glass shattering just as Nat comes down the hall; hair falling loose from a messy braid; her widow's bites' on each wrist and a Glock 26 in her hand. "We're breached," she states. Voice tense but steady as she approaches Sam and Steve. She pulls another 26 from the back of her red leggings and hands it to Sam.
"Aren't those supposed to be in the armory?" Steve asks. He only gets her raised eyebrow as a reply.
"Not complaining," says Sam. As he draws back the slide to ensure a round is chambered.
They take up a loose V formation with Steve in the lead and head toward the sound of broken glass.
They find Wanda and Vision in the lounge. She turns; startled by their arrival. Red energy coalescing in her hands; eyes wide. She lets the coiling energy dissipate as she lowers her hands.
"What's happening?" Her voice isn't outwardly panicked but Steve can detect the enforced calm. Over the last eight months; since Ultron and her brother's death Wanda's control of her abilities has progressed hugely. While not timid she's still lacking in experience and dealing with her grief. She had barely left the compound grounds for the first three months. Now they have intruders in the building; in their home. She's shaken but holding it together admirably.
Steve turns to Vision. The synthazoid looks as calm and nonplussed as usual. "I can detect a single heat source conforming to a human in the foyer," he says. "I was about to investigate when I encountered Miss Maximoff appearing…," he pauses for a moment. His head tilting as he attempts to express or compute his observation. "...distressed." he finishes on.
"I'm fine Vis." Wanda asserts. Though Steve privately agrees with Vision's assessment.
"Where are they now?" Asks Natasha.
"Still in the main foyer." He replies.
"Still a single target?" Nat has gone over to one of the holographic interfaces in the room and is pulling up the security feeds from downstairs.
"Yes. And I'm not able to detect anything immediately outside either."
"I'm getting nothing from that zone." Natasha shakes her head as she slides through the different camera feeds, "they've disabled the cameras but only in the foyer." There's confusion in her voice.
That's when Steve decides he's had enough.
"Nat and Sam with me." Steve states in the authoritative voice of Captain America."Vision. Sweep the sky and perimeter. Find out if we have additional hostiles." Vision gives a slight nod of acquiescence. "Wanda," Steve turns to her, "stay here."
"But-", she tries to interrupt. Steve gives her his best Captain America wants you to buy war bonds face. "You're our backup," he tells her firmly. "Stay here and hold down the fort."
She nods her understanding even if she doesn't look entirely happy with being sidelined.
Sam and Natasha take up their previous positions to Steve's right and left and they head for the main stairs as Vision phases through the wall.
It's April and spring is only getting started in New York. A cold breeze is filling the foyer as they progress downstairs. It's dark on the lower level at this time of night. The lounge, kitchen, and dormitory have motion-activated 'nightlights' ("Just in case someone wants a midnight snack", Tony had joked) but there aren't any outside the living quarters and some of the office spaces.
One of the floor-to-ceiling panes of glass lays shattered in glittering pieces. They stop on the lower steps of the impressive glass and metal staircase that leads from the ground level. It's only then that Steve realizes he's barefoot. The broken glass doesn't pose much danger to Steve's feet but Sam and Natasha aren't super soldiers with increased durability.
He raises the shield to better block an unexpected blow and scans the room.
"Well shit," Sam whispers under his breath. He must have just come to the same realization that Steve did about bare feet and broken glass.
"Semper paratus, boys." Chides Nat. She steps around Steve. Gun drawn; sweeping the room.
Steve looks down at her feet: she's wearing some sort of tight black socks with thin soles that contour around her toes. Of course Natasha would have some sort of ninja shoes; and, of course, she took the time to put them on after being awoken in the middle of the night for an emergency.
Sam stays on the stairs, covering them, as Nat and Steve move forward. The glass doesn't quite cut Steve's feet but it hurts as it crunches under his weight. Natasha is much quieter. Sliding forward in a steady glide through the shards.
"I have blood", says Nat. She's 5 ft to his left. Steve glances over to where she's looking.
There's a trail of liquid, black in the low light; it's only where it's stained the broken window that Steve can discern its color. "They're injured." She says, soto voice.
That's when he hears it: ragged breathing. An almost inaudible sound behind them.
"Sam! Get down!" Steve spins and launches the shield. It smashes through the glass balustrade of the staircase, right behind where Sam had been standing; toward the dark shape standing just behind the stairs…and is stopped dead in its flight.
There's a reverberating clang and a flash of a metallic reflection.
Steve's brain just stops.
"о Господи", Natasha says.
Steve's never actually heard her sound frightened before but this is pretty close.
"Holy Shit!" He hears Sam say; and broken glass be damned, Sam is scrambling to get to his feet and backing away from the stairs.
"DROP IT!" Yells Nat.
Steve is frozen, again.
Like that day in DC. When he'd pulled the mask from the Winter Soldier's face and discovered a ghost of his own underneath.
Natasha barks another command, this time in Russian. Steve doesn't understand but guesses she's repeating her previous order.
The shield drops to the floor. Ringing as it spins on its rim.
Sam and Nat both have their guns trained on him.
"Bucky."
It comes out as a whisper but seems loud in the stillness of the standoff.
That's when Steve can hear it again, the sound that had originally allowed him to locate their intruder: ragged, pained breathing.
Bucky lowers his left arm and sort of slumps sideways. Like the artificial appendage is weighing him down. It's now Steve can see that he's holding his right arm protectively around his midsection. Each breath causes Bucky's lopsided shoulders to rise and fall harshly. He's almost imperceptibly shaking.
Bucky stumbles out from behind the stairs and forwards a few steps.
"остановка!" Natasha says forcefully.
Steve doesn't know Russian but is pretty sure that she's told Bucky to stop as he halts and sways slightly as he does.
Standing in the open it becomes clear that he's injured. The blood Natasha had noticed was definitely his. He's wearing dark denim jeans that are much darker down his left leg.
A denim jacket over a dark-colored shirt; both also stained darker on the left side. His hair is still long and now looks lank and unwashed. He has several day's worth of scruffy facial hair and dark bruising on the right side of his face. Blood is already beginning to pool where Bucky's been standing for only a moment
"Steve."
It comes out as a rasping almost whisper. Bucky's eyes lock on to Steve's and for a moment there's recognition. Then Bucky's legs give out and he collapses to his knees; glass breaking beneath him.