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It took Bucky years to escape his prison. It took him years to bring down HYDRA. By the time he was done, the world knew everything. He hadn’t worked with anyone, but there were others that fought with the same goal in mind. Those others, namely Black Widow and the Avengers, had released all the information on SHIELD and HYDRA.
One of those things was Bucky.
He used to be James Buchanan Barnes. He wasn’t anyone special, really. He’d been just another soldier drafted to fight in WWII. His regimen had been captured by HYDRA at Azzano and he’d been one of the ones chosen to be experimented on. He found out after he’d escaped, when going through the data dump, that his regimen had been found and broken out, but none of those taken for experiments had been rescued. And all had died except for Bucky.
He didn’t think much on that, however. He’d been going through the data looking for specific information. It had taken a while, but he’d eventually found what he wanted.
It was a small mention, barely a few sentences. No names were even mentioned. But Bucky knew what he knew. He’d found the only information he could on his quarry. After that, he went hunting. He went on a tour of all remaining HYDRA bases, destroying everything and everyone, looking for them.
The twins. His twins.
It took him nine long months, but he eventually found the correct base. He found them in the prison cells. They were small and terrified, but they still recognized him. They still came with him. He got them out of the base, then took them to one of his safe houses and instructed them to stay hidden. He needed to go back in and take out everyone, so that no one would come after them.
The Avengers showed up just as he’d finished and he’d ended up arrested. His international trial was quick, but brutal. While he wasn’t charged with everything he’d been forced to do as a prisoner—after it had been accepted that he had been a prisoner—he was charged with everything he’d done since he’d gotten free. He’d killed so many people that he would be locked up for years. It appeared that it was only alright to kill Nazi criminals when the government okayed it first.
Really, the only reason he wasn’t sentenced with multiple lifetimes’ worth of years was because he’d already been a POW for seventy.
So, here he sat, alone, in another prison cell. He guessed it was better than being with HYDRA, since he was treated better. In the day he’d been there, he hadn’t been tortured, sent out to kill, or experimented on. He’d even been given food and water. He guessed that was all a murderer like him could ask for.
But he was worried about the twins.
*****
Bucky had no illusions. He’d done too many bad things in his life to have any left. It didn’t matter if it was when he’d been a brainwashed, unthinking machine or if it had been after he’d escaped. His soul was tarnished forever. He would end up in hell with the rest of HYDRA. So, he had nothing left to lose.
He remembered many things from when he’d been owned by HYDRA. Including some rituals.
Bucky didn’t have any candles, grave dirt, bones, or anything else. All he had was his will and his blood. But, still, he tried.
He used the base of the foot of his cot. His metal arm was sufficient enough to sharpen it enough to cut. He sliced his hand open, deep enough that it would bleed for a few minutes. He used it to draw a crude star on the floor. He cut it again and drew a circle in the middle, then around the star, connecting all the points. Then, cutting himself again, he drew another circle, larger, to encompass it all. Sitting down between the lines of the two largest circles, Bucky closed his eyes and began to quietly chant.
Frankly, he didn’t know if he used all the words. Or even if he used the correct words. His memory was still pretty damn faulty. More like Swiss cheese than anything else. But he chanted what he remembered and willed a demon to answer his call.
When he opened his eyes, a tall, muscled creature stood before him. He had blood-red skin, black horns and eyes, and long, sharp, black claws on his fingers. He also had fangs that peeked out from his lips, reminding Bucky of a cat’s teeth.
“You took a risk, summoning me without a proper circle,” the demon said. He squatted down to Bucky’s level, looking curiously at the bloody drawings. “I think the only reason it worked is because of your iron will.”
“I had to try,” Bucky murmured. He was conscious of the fact that he needed to be quiet so none of the guards came running. He was already risking things with there being a camera watching him.
The demon’s eyes sharpened. “The cameras and people stopped seeing the second you began the process of summoning me. To them, you are laying down. How can I make deals with people when others prevent them from summoning me?”
Bucky guessed that was a point.
“The question you should be asking yourself,” the demon rumbled, “is if you’re willing to pay the price for what you want.”
At that, Bucky laughed. “You deal in souls, right?”
The demon tilted his head. It wasn’t a nod, but it was something.
“If you can find my soul after all I’ve done, after all that’s been done to me, then you’re welcome to it. It’ll be worth it.”
At this, the demon looked reluctantly curious.
“What is it that you want?”
Bucky silently wondered at the fact that he was having more of a civil conversation with a demon than he’d had with most humans over the past seventy years. Even during the trial that had locked him up, he hadn’t had anyone speak to him this calmly. And he certainly hadn’t been spoken to as if he were an equal.
Something in the demon’s expression shifted. Its gaze sharpened. But Bucky spoke before anything more could be said.
“You said the guards and cameras can’t see?”
The demon nodded.
“And they can’t hear, either?”
“Of course.” Somehow, the words didn’t sound anything but calmly reassuring.
“Then I want you to raise my children, Wanda and Pietro, so that they live healthy, kind, loving, happy lives. And, if anybody finds out about them being my children, I want you to protect them. Make sure they don’t get taken, experimented on, or used.”
Again, the demon looked curious. His head tilted, studying Bucky. “Why would they get taken, experimented on, or used?”
He could only sigh. “Because they’re my biological children. A serum changed my blood and made me healthy, fast, strong, and deadly. They took my seed and created children, hoping they would be like me. They weren’t exactly. They were only half-me, so they experimented on them and changed them. They both have powers because of it. Energy manipulation and speed, respectively. But if anyone finds out…” Bucky knew very well what would happen, but he didn’t want to say it. The demon seemed to understand regardless.
“This is the deal you wish to make?” the demon asked. He looked intently into Bucky’s eyes, face set into serious lines.
Bucky swallowed. “Do I have enough of a soul left to bargain with?”
The demon tilted his head again. He blinked.
“Then yes. I want to bargain my soul for their lives. For their souls,” Bucky murmured to himself.
*****
Humans didn’t understand afterworld structures. They often had a set belief of Heaven and Hell, filled with angels and demons, respectively. That wasn’t true at all.
What humans thought of as angels and demons were really just the same thing. Whether they were prayed for or summoned, it all called the same beings. Humans saw what they expected to see, however. If they expected a bright figure with white, feathered wings, dressed in white and tan robes, then that was what they saw. If they expected a demon, red and dark, fanged and clawed, that was what they saw.
And the bargains humans made with them didn’t send them to a fiery hellscape or pearly white gates. The lives they lived and the shine of their souls determined where they belonged. Now, if a good person started down the path of wrong, their soul could become tarnished, tainted. But intent mattered.
This man, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes believed himself to be beyond redemption. He believed he was destined for an eternity of pain and torture, and so, had summoned what he thought was a demon. And he asked for children to be protected. This human didn’t know how his soul shined. He was one of the truly good ones. His life had been terrible, through no fault of his own, but he was still a good person.
And he asked for a good thing. Protection of children was always good.
Changing his appearance to look human, he appeared in front of the two small, terrified children half a world away from their father. He squatted down in an effort to appear less intimidating.
“Hello. You can call me Steve.”
The girl, Wanda, attempted to hit him with some red energy, but it was a simple thing to let it pass right through him.
“Your father sent me,” Steve told them quietly. When the children froze, but didn’t speak, he asked, “Do you know who your father is?”
They still didn’t answer. Steve inwardly sighed.
Wanting them to trust him, but also not to hurt them, Steve popped back to Bucky, doing the same trick as before so no one besides them knew.
“This is the form I chose,” Steve said bluntly as Bucky sat up from where he’d been lying on the cot. He flashed his form between the demon Bucky had seen before and the gold-skinned, blond, human form he’d chosen, so that Bucky could confirm who he was talking to. “I need you to clear your mind and let me take your non-physical body to your children.
Bucky’s eyes widened before he was sitting cross-legged and breathing deep, relaxing his shoulders. Without a word, he nodded his consent. It was as easy as a thought to pull Bucky’s astral body half a world away.
The moment he appeared with Bucky, the man ran towards the children, who ran towards him. But they couldn’t connect.
“You’re not really here,” Steve told Bucky regretfully. “Your mind is here, without your body. That means, unfortunately, you can’t touch. I’m sorry.”
Bucky’s shoulders slumped, then firmed. He lowered to his knees before his children. “I’m not going to lie to you,” he told them. “When I went back in to make sure nobody could follow us, I got caught. I’m now imprisoned and will be for a long time.” He nodded his head at Steve. “I called him and asked him to watch over you and raise you for me. I’m sorry I can’t do it myself. But you’re safe with him. He will protect and take care of you.”
“Papa…” Pietro cried. It broke Steve’s heart to hear. It made him sad that he couldn’t let them touch, hug.
“I know, Piet.” Their father said tearfully. “I’m so sorry. But I did a lot of bad things. I don’t get to be free. But you can be. He’s going keep you safe for me.”
Wanda reached out with her red energy and pressed it to Bucky’s temples. Bucky only closed his eyes and let it happen. His soul pulsed, like it couldn’t decide if it hurt with sorrow or was filled with joy in that moment.
Wanda’s eyes flashed red, the same as her hands, and she turned to her twin. “Steve will keep us safe.”
*****
Being imprisoned wasn’t difficult. He was used to far more confinement and restrictions than this place required. He was used to constantly being watched. He was used to being led somewhere in super-strength cuffs with guards surrounding him. Really, the only thing he wasn’t used to was not being tortured and mistreated. He didn’t give anyone trouble and nobody gave any to him. It was peaceful, in a way.
He missed his kids, though. He really did. He hadn’t been able to spend much time with them over the years—they’d more been things to hold over his head and mentally torture him with, than anything else under HYDRA—but, even at his most broken, he’d known what they were to him. He’d known they were his children, the same way that they’d known he was their father.
Now, he was locked up again, but no longer being tortured. He was locked up, but no longer having to stare at them inside their cryo tubes. He wasn’t being pushed into his own tube with the worry that they might be much older and damaged the next time he saw them. They were free and safe, now, and that was all he could ask for.
He did wish he could see them, though, to see how they were doing.
On the heels of that thought, the pressure changed just the slightest in his cell. When he looked up from his book, Steve stood in front of him.
“I can take you to visit them,” he stated calmly.
Bucky glanced through the reinforced glass of his cage, then up at the cameras in the corners.
Steve smiled. “No one will know. Your body will stay here, like before.”
Bucky nodded, wishing he could trust this, trust that this was being given to him free of consequences or payment. But, even if it wasn’t, he’d already bargained away his soul. What else did he have to lose? He settled back on his thin mattress, as he had before, and shifted into a comfortable cross-legged pose. The next time he opened his eyes, he was in a beautiful, old, country house. He saw that it was furnished in a way he could never remember his family ever affording. There were blankets and pillows on the couch and a carpet on the floor. There were a multitude of framed photographs and paintings hung up on the wall. It looked like a real home and it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.
The most beautiful things he’d ever seen ran in from the back yard, laughing happily. Wanda and Pietro skidded to a stop, staring at him in disbelief. Then: “Papa!”
Pietro zoomed over to Bucky, tried slamming into him for a hug, but ended up just going right through him, because he wasn’t physically there. Steve caught him, apologizing for not being able to bring their Papa to them so they could touch.
Wanda, the smart little girl that she was, raced to Bucky and then surrounded him with her red energy. It felt just as good as any hug.
“I missed you two so much!” Bucky exclaimed. He knew he had tears in his eyes and his voice, but he didn’t care.
The twins told him all about their new life. They showed him their bedrooms and their play room and all their toys. They showed him the backyard and swing set, talked about how they wanted a tree house like in a book they read. Hours later, while Steve made the three of them dinner, they talked about him with Bucky. They told him that they called him Dad, so no one would ask questions or take them away.
With every good word the twins spoke about their demon caretaker, Bucky wondered if he actually was a demon. Studying him closely, Bucky imagined him as he’d first seen him. The air in front of Steve shimmered, just for a second or two, and Bucky saw that form. But, before the air settled so he looked human again, he saw that demonic form shift to look like what Bucky imagined an angel would look like. It…raised questions.
“Alright, you two,” Steve said, setting the pan of food aside and covering it with a lid. “Papa’s got to go back now.” Their eyes met. “You’re about to be checked on, since you’ve been sitting still for a quite a while now.”
In a blink, Steve and Bucky were back in his cell, back in the positions they’d started. Seconds after Bucky opened his eyes, a guard showed up. Steve didn’t move, but didn’t seem to be visible to anyone but Bucky.
“Are you alright?” the guard asked Bucky.
“I’m fine.” But the guard shifted on his feet, looking nervous. He quickly came up with an excuse for his behavior that he could use, one that he could cultivate so they would eventually stop asking when he visited his children. “I was just meditating. It helps.”
A look of pity crossed the guard’s face, but Bucky didn’t comment. He let the man think what he wanted to think. He wasn’t obligated to tell the guard anything and he certainly wasn’t there to make friends.
He waited in silence for the guard to disappear, then focused on Steve. “Thank you,” he whispered. “It’s…” He swallowed to clear the lump from his throat. “It’s really nice to see them so happy.”
“They’re a pleasure to be around. Even with the hard beginnings they’ve had, they’re wonderful children. And I can help them hone their powers so they can learn to keep themselves safe and hidden.”
Something in Bucky relaxed at that. The idea that Steve could teach them to hide their powers from those who would want to use and abuse them—it settled something inside his chest. “Thank you,” he said again. “Can I go back again sometime?” he asked, daring to be hopeful.
Steve’s face softened. “Of course. Just think of visiting and I’ll come for you.”
“Maybe you’re not a demon,” Bucky murmured, unable to believe he could actually have this. “Maybe you’re actually an angel.”
Steve quirked a smile. But he didn’t answer the implied question. “Think of us if you want to come back before I return.” Then he was gone.
With nothing else to do, Bucky picked his book back up to read.
*****
Steve appeared while Bucky was out in the yard, soaking up a couple hours of sun. Being the boogieman everyone feared, the prison yard had been cleared of all other prisoners. Bucky wondered if, eventually, they would deem him safe enough to be around others. But it didn’t much matter right at the moment. He hadn’t truly felt the sun, not like this, in decades. He hadn’t been able to sit out in the sunshine, for no other reason than because he wanted to feel it on his face, since the early forties. It was beyond peaceful.
He felt a presence next to him and, still being the jumpy side, Bucky immediately looked to see who it was. He was both shocked and elated to see the man—the angel?—he’d summoned, sitting beside him.
“How are you, Bucky?”
His truth slipped out of his mouth without much thought. “I haven’t been tortured, frozen, or forced to kill anyone in almost four months. My children are safe, thanks to you. I can feel the sun on my skin. And this is the sixth time you’ve come to visit or fetch me. I’m doing better than I should be.”
Steve knocked their shoulders together. “Your bar for ‘better’ isn’t very high.”
And, for the first time in three quarters of a century, Bucky laughed.
*****
Bucky woke up out of a dead sleep with Russian trigger words echoing in his head. A shadowed figure stood outside his cell. Panicking, with his mouth already locked tight from the utterance of the fifth word, the only thing Bucky could do was convulse where he lay and pray desperately. He couldn’t escape what was about to happen.
Seventh word.
He didn’t want to be a slave again.
Eighth word.
Please, no.
Ninth word.
His children…
The shadowed figure finished the tenth word and everything went still and silent. At least within the Winter Soldier. There was some noise that It distantly registered, but couldn’t pay any attention to. Its body moved It to standing, hands locked behind Its back, ready to comply for Its Master.
Blue eyes swam before him.
“Ready to comply,” Its mouth said without thought. Assets did not think. They only obeyed.
Blue eyes swam closer. A helmet covered most of his Master’s face.
As It was supposed to, It catalogued all people, weapons, armor, and pertinent information within range of Its being. Dead body lying on the ground a dozen feet away. One man—the new Master—standing before the Asset. A double-edged, silver sword, encrusted with large blue sapphires in the pommel. A silver shield strapped to a thickly muscled forearm. Silver armor covering a broad frame. A silver metal helmet, with wings on the sides and a nose piece breaking up the opening for the face. Wings behind the master.
Wings. Made up of navy-blue feathers.
It was unusual enough that the Asset blinked.
“Bucky,” Its Master said.
It blinked again.
“Bucky, come back.”
Its Master dropped the sword and shield. A mistake. A Master should never be unarmed. The Asset picked up the sword and shield and attempted to hand them back.
Instead of taking them, the Master placed both hands on the Asset’s face. Then he closed his eyes.
Another mistake. The Asset now had weapons and a Master who wasn’t paying attention to protocol. What if the Asset chose to disobey orders—
The Asset did not choose. The Asset did not disobey. The Asset did not think.
And yet…
Vines filled with thorns shifted inside Its mind. They moved sluggishly, but it could feel them.
The Asset did not understand.
The vines shifted some more. Long, sharp thorns slowly, oh so slowly, pulled away, like they slid out of pieces of Its mind.
Suddenly the Master opened his eyes. His blue eyes shone brighter than the sky at midday.
They struck a chord within It. Something in Its chest sang with joy at the sight. And still those thorns slid slowly out of Its brain. The Asset did not underst—
“Bucky,” the Master murmured, hands still gripping Its face.
In one final pull, the long, sharp thorns slid out of his mind. Then the vines, now noticeably covered in tiny near-invisible thorns that curved and gripped, slowly peeled away like gauze from a scabbed-up wound. The tiny thorns wanted to stay, tried to hold fast. But those shining blue eyes were determined. They watched him, seeming to see inside.
“Come back to me, Buck,” that voice whispered.
He wanted to follow.
The vines lessened their hold. They didn’t grip so tight. And Bucky—
Bucky.
He wasn’t an It. He wasn’t the Asset. He had a name. And no master.
“…Steve.” It was hard to make his mouth move, but he forced the word out. Because he remembered. “Steve…”
It was then that he felt the last of the vines, the last of those tiny insidious thorns, fall away. Bucky collapsed, sobbing. Steve caught him in his arms and cradled him to his somehow-unarmored chest. He spoke soft, soothing words that Bucky could barely hear. He felt everything he hadn’t been allowed to feel: Anger, terror, dread, pain, sorrow, hate…love and relief. And more.
He didn’t know how long he cried for. He did know that Steve held him through it all. Eventually, Bucky felt so drained that he could only lie limply against Steve’s chest. Somehow, he’d ended up in the man’s—in the Angel’s—lap. But he was beyond any movement.
Or so he thought.
Steve’s beautiful wings curled around Bucky, protecting him from the outside world, and his fingers twitched. He wanted to touch. He wanted to feel. He wanted soft and soothing. He wanted gentle touch, just for once, after another awful experience.
Steve seemed to know. The wing behind Bucky’s back shifted, stretching to its fullest, then curling around him. The tips of those beautiful feathers landed in Bucky’s limp hands, trailing over clammy skin.
They felt smoother than silk. They felt softer than down. Surrounding him as they were, intense warmth seeped into the chill of Bucky’s bones.
He wanted to ask if his children were safe. He wanted to ask what had happened tonight. He wanted to ask so many questions, but his brain was just…done.
“Sleep,” Steve whispered to him. “Let your mind heal. Rest knowing that they can never trigger you again. You’re free.”
They were the last words Bucky heard before he slid under, exhausted, curled into the warmth of an embrace that kept him safer than he’d ever felt before.
*****
Steve kept an eye on Bucky, even as he kept an eye on and took care of the twins. As one of the more powerful beings of the afterworld, he was easily able to split his power and be in two places at once. It helped that the him that stayed with Bucky could not be seen by anyone else, nor by anything else. No human technology could capture him unless he allowed himself to be seen.
As such, he was able to stay with Bucky, with none the wiser, while he rested. He was vulnerable. His mind needed to heal. Steve would watch over and protect him while he did.
Steve did, unfortunately, have to wake Bucky up periodically. The guards in the prison grew worried when they only saw him sleep. They kept sending someone around to check on him. So, Steve had to wake Bucky up enough for him to tell them he was fine and didn’t need any help. After a few times of this, Steve made it appear to those watching that Bucky was sitting up, reading or meditating, even as, in reality, he slept.
It took four days before Bucky really woke on his own. It was a long four days, even for an eternal being such as himself. He’d grown to care for this human, as well as his two children. He’d even grown to…love them.
He’d never loved anyone before. Not like this, anyway. He loved humanity as a whole, achievements and faults and all. But now the feeling that welled up inside him was for a specific person. And he had a similar, but slightly different, feeling for the twins.
He’d cradled Bucky on his lap. He’d let Bucky touch his wings. He’d let Bucky see him as he truly was, not as humans often perceived him to be. He’d let Bucky see him smite down the human who’d come to steal him away. Steve wondered what Bucky would remember of it all when he finally woke up. For now, he stayed with the human he’d grown to love, even as he took care of and protected his children.
*****
When Bucky woke, he had Steve curled warmly around his back. His beautiful blue wings were nowhere to be seen, nor were his armor and sword, but his shield was leaning within easy reach against the bed, ready to grab up on a moment’s notice.
“You with me now?” Steve asked lowly. His voice rumbled across Bucky’s skin, causing pleasant shivers down his spine.
Feeling warm and relaxed, Bucky murmured, “Did you just ask if I’m yours?” Steve paused, either in surprise or worry, but Bucky yawned and continued. “Because I’m pretty sure the answer has been yes for a while now.”
Steve huffed out a soft laugh. “Does that make me yours, too?”
“Of course, Angel.”
They laid there silently for a minute before Steve finally asked, “What do you remember?” His tone made it clear he was asking about what had happened, not what Bucky remembered of his past.
“Beautiful wings, glowing blue eyes, pain and then the absence of it, and softness curled around me.”
“I removed the hold HYDRA had on your mind. That is what the pain was from. They will never again be able to control you.”
Bucky took a shaky breath in, then turned. Unable to say a word, he just ducked his head against Steve’s chest and silently cried. Beautiful blue wings appeared out of nowhere to encircle him, warm enough that it was like being surrounded by the warmest, softest blanket he could imagine. Eventually, he calmed and looked up. “Thank you. For everything.” Then he took a slow breath and laid bare his soul. “I love you.”
Steve’s face softened and he bent to press their foreheads together. “I love you, too, my Bucky.”
*****
Steve intrinsically knew that Bucky needed time before he could see his children again. He wouldn’t go see them so soon after being turned back into the Winter Soldier against his will. Wanda, for one, would sense the trauma of it within seconds. And it wouldn’t be long after that, that Pietro figured it out, too. So, Steve understood that Bucky needed time.
It didn’t make it any easier to tell the twins that their Papa couldn’t visit them on their fifth birthday, though.
He’d gained Bucky’s permission to tell them the gist of what happened, so that they understood that Bucky would come if he could. He’d held them and soothed them when they cried over their Papa being hurt again. And he reassured them again and again that Bucky was okay. He also promised that HYDRA would never be able to do it again. He promised that he’d healed his mind.
When they eventually came to terms with it all, they asked if they could celebrate their birthday when their Papa could come. For now, they just wanted a regular dinner like any other night. They would stay four years old until their Papa could be with them.
Steve didn’t point out that that wasn’t how birthdays worked. He just agreed and fixed a quiet dinner for three.
A full month passed before Bucky felt he was able to be around his children again without Wanda seeing or feeling what had happened to him. It was a full month before he felt he’d moved past the situation enough that he wouldn’t think of it while around them. It was a full month of healing enough that, when Wanda hugged him with her red mist, she’d cried happily when she felt only him inside his mind.
After that, they celebrated Wanda and Pietro’s birthday, Bucky hanging around while they ate, then celebrated with cake and ice cream. When presents were handed out, Steve made sure to tell the twins that the presents were from both their Dad and their Papa. And everyone had cried when the twins hugged Steve and told them they loved him. They still couldn’t properly hug Bucky, but they told him they wished they could, and that they loved him with all their hearts.
When Steve brought Bucky back to his body, he didn’t leave before giving his love a tight hug and a smacking kiss on each cheek from the kids. And then one gentle one on the lips from him. “I’ll see you soon, love,” Steve whispered.
“Love you, Angel,” Bucky whispered before Steve disappeared.
*****
Bucky spent years in prison ‘meditating’ at random intervals. Some of the times, it was because Steve came to visit him and made it look like that was what Bucky was doing. But others it was so Steve could bring his astro body to visit the twins. He spent years getting to see his children grow in random spurts. He couldn’t see them every day. He couldn’t even see them every week. But he did get to see them.
It was what they had. It was probably all they would ever have. Bucky was under no illusions about what he’d done. He knew why he’d taken down all those HYDRA bases after escaping, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d killed everyone there. It was worth it to him. His children were safe and free. His children were living happy lives with a loving parent who was strong enough to keep them safe from anybody. And he got to see and talk to his children every once in a while.
He considered it a miracle, one he didn’t deserve, that they loved him and didn’t blame him for anything he’d done, either as the Winter Soldier or after he’d escaped. He considered it another miracle that his Angel loved him, right along with their children. It was all far more than his ruined soul deserved. But he wouldn’t give his secret visits up. He would greedily take what he could get, and cherish every moment of his ‘life’ outside these walls.
He saw his babies grow, from the tiny little four-year-olds he’d rescued, into beautiful, strong, and kind eleven-year-olds. And he silently thanked his Angel for each new day that they were free, even as he sat alone in his cage.
He would rot inside this prison forever if that was the price he paid for their happiness, safety, and freedom.
*****
The Winter Soldier spent years in a high-strength prison, meant for those with abnormal strength or abilities. He became known for how quiet he was. He became known for his long bouts of meditation that nothing disturbed. He became known for his calm acceptance of his life there.
He never complained. He never acted out. He never disobeyed any rules. He never incurred any sort of discipline, even if he never did anything to earn rewards, either. He didn’t pander to any of the guards or try to make friends. He didn’t try to convince them of anything or get them to do things for him. He never once stated his innocence. Or his guilt. It made people wonder.
Some agents in the remainder of SHIELD, agents of certain alphabet agencies, and the Avengers, who all kept a close eye on him, eventually wondered if they’d made a mistake. The Winter Soldier they thought they knew, the weapon HYDRA had made him into, wasn’t anything like they’d thought. He seemed completely different from the angry, violent man that had been spoken of at his trial. It made them re-watch the footage of it.
And notice that he’d never once stood up for himself. James Buchanan Barnes had never once spoken out in his own defense. He’d never once contradicted the prosecutors or any of the security footage of him going through bases, killing everyone he came across. The only time he’d acted anything other than calm was when footage of the last base, the one he’d been captured at, came up. He’d tensed and watched the footage with the first show of true focus that had always been expected of the Winter Soldier. But he relaxed when it showed him going room from room, killing everyone there. By the end, he was back to his oddly calm, disinterested self.
The government agencies washed their hands of it, telling their agents to leave it alone. The Winter Soldier was imprisoned and that was the end of it as far as they were concerned. SHIELD ended up with other things to worry about than a locked up maybe-enemy-maybe-victim. The Avengers, however, wondered, more and more, if they had made a mistake, if they’d missed something.
Finally, it was Tony Stark’s A.I., Jarvis, going back through old files on Tony’s behest, who discovered a clue. Earlier in the day, well before the Winter Soldier had arrived to kill everyone, security footage showed the happenings of that last base. And they showed hints, here and there, of a shadow slipping through other shadows. It was almost impossible to discern any identifiable features until one accidental slip had the barest hint of light glinting on the camera. The shadow moved one millimeter out of the densest shadows and a tiny gleam of light reflected off a metal arm. It identified who the intruder was. It also brought up questions as to why he had arrived later in the day to kill everyone, when he’d already been inside and hadn’t injured a single person.
Tony was notified of the findings and he started sorting through everything himself. He and Jarvis lined up all the footage of the Winter Soldier secretly making his way through the base. They watched the shadow, which they could barely discern from other shadows, sneak in. And they discovered, when they looked way down deep in the code, that any footage of him sneaking back out was completely missing. It showed right up until the man reached the room just outside the door of what a map identified as HYDRA’s room of high-tech glass prison cells, and then nothing until the Winter Soldier came in in to seek vengeance.
Tony showed the other Avengers and they tried to guess what he’d found during that missing time.
After that, the Avengers started the ball rolling for James Buchanan Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, to get out on parole, citing having been held prisoner for seventy years, most of which was spent being tortured and brainwashed, and his excellent behavior now. All in all, it took a little over seven years for him to be released. Once out, the Avengers kept a close eye on Barnes. One of the conditions of his parole was that he be monitored with cameras in his apartment, agents following him anywhere he went outside, and with a transmitter around his ankle and another in his arm so he couldn’t just disappear.
Jarvis was the one in charge of keeping constant watch, keeping the Avengers informed. Nothing he did was any different than what he’d done in prison, even if he did seem to have a few more emotions cross his face than he’d ever let show while inside.
A year and a day after being released on a carefully-monitored short leash, Barnes was declared rehabilitated and no longer in need of supervision. The transmitters were removed. And, the next day, he disappeared. Jarvis and Tony secretly tracked him, forced to use every bit of skill they possessed—and quite a few questionable methods—to do so.
One week later, all the Avengers gathered in Tony’s lab and watched in shock as the invisible drone showed two twelve-ish-year-olds, a boy and a girl with familiar brown hair, came out of a well-maintained house in the middle of nowhere. Both screamed, “Papa!” and ran to him. The boy blurred and was across the lawn in half a second. The girl ran, red energy bleeding from her hands and eyes as she—and it—reached out for her papa.
The Avengers watched as the former Winter Soldier dropped to his knees, sobbing, and gathered both children into his arms, rocking them back and forth. They watched as a beautiful blond man with golden skin followed the kids out of the house, dropped to his knees, and wrapped around them all, giving his own hard hug. They created a pile of tears and laughter on the front lawn.
“Welcome home,” the blond said.
“Thank you. For everything, Angel,” Barnes said. “Thank you for keeping my children safe.”
“My job isn’t over, love,” the blond claimed. And something must’ve affected the drone’s lens for a long moment, because a flash of bright light from…something…temporarily whited-out the visual feed. “Now I get to keep all of you safe,” they heard.
After the visual feed returned, the Avengers watched James Buchanan Barnes, former tortured POW, former brainwashed victim, former Winter Soldier, current shaking and still-crying man, stand and hold tight to his children’s hands as they carefully, gently led him into the house. And with a protective look directly at the invisible drone in the sky, the blond that Barnes had called Angel closed the front door with finality.
“That wasn’t a revenge tour of HYDRA,” Tony whispered, with not a little bit of horror, into the dead-silent lab. He thought of the eight years Barnes had been locked up and monitored, the eight years that those two children had had to live without their Papa, the lifetime it would have been, had the Avengers not gotten him out. “That was a search and rescue…for his children.”