Chapter Text
He was a curse. A fraud. Everything he touched turned to shit.
Staring into Bucky’s somber eyes and telling him it was going to be okay was one of the hardest things Steve had ever done. He’d made a promise, but Tony was right. He was a liar.
He’d refused to trade Vision’s life for the stone, and Vision died, anyway. Thanos got the stone. They failed. He failed. Half the universe paid the price for his decision.
He roped Tony into the time travel plan, and Tony went along. “Maybe no one dies,” Tony had said, and he had the most to lose. He’d gotten lucky during the Blip. He had everything— the love of his life and a beautiful daughter.
Tony paid the ultimate price—laid down on the wire for the entire universe. Morgan would grow up without her father. All because of him.
And then there was Natasha.
Oh, Natasha, forgive me. He’d been wrapped up in his grief during those five years, and Natasha had picked up the slack. Her contributions over the years were frequently overlooked, just like Peggy’s had been. She fought as an Avenger without a shield, without armor, without superstrength or magical powers. She’d been so much better than him in many ways, and now, because of him, she was dead, too.
Steve stepped on the platform. He couldn’t look at Bucky. He couldn’t see those eyes again.
I’m sorry, Buck. I failed you, too. It’s all my fault—everything that happened to you.
The mission to capture Zola, the firefight on the train, letting the Hydra soldier get the drop on them—all of it was on him. And when Bucky needed him the most, Steve failed him, too.
I couldn’t even grab you, and then I left you for dead.
Everyone would be better off without him, Bucky especially. The only thing Steve had given Bucky was pain. Even growing up, it was always Bucky putting himself in harm’s way to fight off bullies, missing work to take care of him when he was sick, and covering rent money.
He could start over in the past with Peggy—simpler times. No alien invasions. No avengers. He already knew what history had in store, and maybe then he could do some good.
Maybe creating one alternative timeline wouldn’t be so bad.
-000-
Three days later….
Bucky Barnes was once again a prisoner, this time in the Raft. No one even knew he was gone. No one was left to care. The one person who might have come looking for him was gone.
Steve.
He and Steve talked for an hour or so after Steve gave the shield to Sam, and that was that. He didn't know where Steve went after their conversation but assumed it was to spend the remaining time he had with whatever family he had made for himself. Steve probably had children. It was only right that he spend his last days with his family.
There were no Avengers who’d take an interest in his whereabouts. Sam was the closest thing he had to a friend, and as far as friendships went, it barely qualified as one. Sam only gave him the time of day because of Steve, and Bucky figured that was more than generous considering how many times Bucky had come close to killing him.
Whatever plans his captors had, they didn't tell him. They did, however, question him—about everything. His missions, Steve’s whereabouts, and what he knew about how billions of people suddenly rematerialized. He gave them nothing, which just pissed them off.
They were with the US government, which was far lighter on Hydra than it used to be, so maybe, if he was lucky, he wouldn't end up back in the hands of Hydra. Nevertheless, he knew what likely lay in store for him.
They’d use him as a lab rat. They had no intention of letting him see the light of day again, not unless they needed him for something. Maybe they'd want him to be their indentured super soldier. Not that anyone really needed a super soldier these days. With aliens and Hulks, one World War II era super soldier was practically obsolete.
They'd given him no chance to escape...yet. When they’d arrested him, flashing government IDs, he had a split second to decide whether to fight and run or surrender. Instinct kicked in. He almost ran, but he’d had enough of fighting and running, enough of killing. He didn’t want a repeat of Bucharest, with all its collateral damage. So, he let them take him.
He was starting to regret that spur-of-the-moment decision. He’d rather die than spend his life a prisoner, lab rat, or puppet.
He'd had hopes of escape when the Germans captured him…and then the Russians back during the war. He hadn't managed it then, not for any significant period of time. Not until Steve literally blew their operation to shreds. Maybe he’d manage it this time, but he’d wait and see what they had planned for him, just in case they were working through mounds of red tape and politics. Maybe they’d get him a lawyer.
Who was he kidding? There’d been no lawyer last time, in Berlin. He had to be realistic. The only people who ever got out of the Raft were the Avengers Steve busted out. He might die a prisoner. He only hoped this time it would be sooner rather than later, and they wouldn't make him hurt anybody.
Neither he nor Steve belonged in this time, but at least one of them made it home.
Bucky stared at the gray ceiling of his tiny cell for a small eternity, his shoulder blades pressing into the hard floor, until the silence made his eyelids heavy and dampened his thoughts. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be, Steve, he thought before he fell into a fitful sleep, filled with his most recent recurring nightmare. He was on his back fighting for his life, armed with only a knife. A hulking alien beast with four arms and razor-sharp teeth had him pinned, and a raccoon cackled about stealing the arm from his corpse.
-000-
"... And there's been no sign of James Buchanan Barnes, the man known as the Winter Soldier."
Steve turned off the television and picked up his phone. He'd debated returning home to spend his last days with his family, but then Bucky disappeared. At first, he thought Bucky's vanishing act was his way of processing everything that happened, but that didn’t sit right with him, so he tuned into the news, just in case anything came up about Bucky.
It was 24 hours a day of nonstop chaos on the screen after half the population returned. Amidst all those reports, including memorials for Tony and questions about “Captain America’s” whereabouts, that was the only mention of Bucky. At least he hadn’t turned up dead. That was something.
Maybe Bucky resented Steve for going back. If their positions were reversed, Steve might feel the same way. He wouldn’t be proud of it, but they were both only human, after all.
Steve knew firsthand how hard it was to adjust to a new world, especially alone. That was why he'd greased the wheels for a pardon and asked Sam to be there for Bucky. It seemed, however, that Bucky wanted nothing to do with either of them.
A few phone calls later, he confirmed that neither Sam nor the Wakandans had seen Bucky in over a week. An unease grew in his gut. He didn't think this was like the last time Bucky had disappeared, but he couldn't be sure. He had so little time with Bucky between Bucharest and Thanos. The man he'd known back in 1945 would have wanted a shot at a real life, but so many things had been done to Bucky since then. Maybe he just wanted to disappear. Steve could understand that.
Still, that feeling wouldn't go away. It took him a few more phone calls, but it was hard to get to the bottom of things while still staying under the radar. He couldn't let his time travel decision become public knowledge. He trusted Sam, though, and the Wakandans.
Another phone call and two hours later, the feeling in his gut was a raging inferno. Every one of his internal alarm bells were blaring. Someone had taken Bucky. The Wakandans intercepted intelligence communications within the US government. There was no smoking gun, but there was enough to convince Steve that an agency within the United States had captured Bucky. He could only hope they meant to detain him, but he was no longer the naïve soldier he used to be. If Bucky was still alive, Steve couldn't leave him.
He re-dialed another number. "Hey, Sam, I need your help."
-000-
The lab rat part of Bucky’s stay came almost immediately. He sat on the exam table and took slow breaths, schooling his features into a blank slate, pushing the itchy unease under his skin deep into his gut. He could play nice, for a while—give himself time to see what they had planned for him before he did something that he couldn’t undo.
He let them slide a needle into his vein, draw blood, punch out tissue samples from his arm with their tools, and he peed in the cup they handed him. But when they handed him another cup and told him to provide a semen sample, he refused.
He didn’t know what they wanted it for, but it couldn’t be good. Hydra had taken semen from him, and he never found out what they used it for. Did he have biological children? He tried not to think about that, but sometimes he dreamed of a blue-eyed assassin sneaking into his apartment in the middle of the night to dispatch Hydra’s old asset and scrap him for parts.
No. He wouldn’t give anyone else a chance to create a super soldier breeding program. He didn’t know if the serum affected his swimmers. Maybe they did, or maybe they wanted to find out, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of having a child conceived as a lab experiment, used as government property.
Ross stood in front of him, arms crossed. “Don’t make us do this the hard way, Barnes.”
Bucky looked around the room. There were four armed guards, three scientists, and Ross. He’d had worse odds, even with an electric collar on and his wrists shackled in front of him with vibranium cuffs, presumably so he could make use of the cup.
Where the hell had they gotten the vibranium? The Sokovia disaster, maybe?
“I said no.”
Ross nodded at one of the armed guards, who reached into his pocket. The collar beeped, and a second later, the jolt was enough to steal Bucky’s breath. He didn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction. That had been a warning shock.
“Do your best,” Bucky eyed the guard who had activated the collar. “The answer’s still no.”
“Then we’ll take it from you,” Ross said.
“Why don’t we give him a little time to adjust?” one of the scientists said.
Bucky looked at the man. He wasn’t familiar – gray hair, a round face, and glasses. He looked like so many other scientists who had made Bucky part of their science experiments over the decades, but by the way the man quickly averted his gaze, it was obvious he wasn’t completely on board with the situation.
“No, doctor.” Ross turned to the guard. “We can’t let the prisoners think compliance is an option.” He nodded again at the guard.
The collar beeped again, and the jolt was enough to send him forward, toppling off the table. When it stopped, he was panting, the skin beneath the prongs hot and angry.
“Fuck off, Ross. No!” He got his legs under him and stood.
Two guards brought out electric batons, and the collar beeped again.
-000-
Steve had driven by the sanctum a couple of times when he was a young man, during his Avenger years, but he'd never seen the inside. He was about to knock on the door when it opened, seemingly of its own accord. He looked at Sam and took a step inside.
Sam had the good grace to let him go first. It was good to see him after almost 75 years. Those decades had passed faster than he could have imagined. Steve wasn't as fast or strong as he used to be, but he got around pretty damn good for his age. He had the serum to thank for that
Wong came downstairs, pausing halfway down, eyes dancing between them as he raised his eyebrows. "Don't tell me there's another alien invasion."
"No, but I need your help." Steve moved to the bottom of the stairs and rested one hand on the banister to steady himself. "Bucky has disappeared. We suspect someone has taken him. There's no one left to could help him. The Wakandans have their hands full putting the nation back together after the Blip. It's just me and Sam."
Dr. Strange appeared on the landing behind Wong, giving Steve a curious once over. "Wilson.” He nodded, eyes going to Steve. “And you are?”
He straightened and squared his shoulders. “Steve Rogers.”
Dr. Strange raised an eyebrow. "You're looking a bit long in the tooth, Captain."
"It's a complicated story. Can you help me...or, rather, Bucky?"
Wong studied him impassively, arms behind his back. “What kind of help do you need?"
"I hate to ask, but he's my friend, and I need to make sure he's okay. Can you open a portal to find him?"
Wong and Strange looked at one another for a moment.
"What if--?" Wong began.
"--Then we close it."
"We don’t know who we’ll find on the other side. I don't want that kind of trouble... Not right now. We've got enough on our hands.” Wong leaned closer to Strange and lowered his voice. “The basement isn’t even properly permitted.”
Dr. Strange tilted his head. “We can always do a forget spell."
Wong breathed a heavy sigh and raised his fingers. "James Buchanan Barnes." He moved them in a circular motion in the air, and a golden ring appeared.
On the other side of the portal, Bucky was hunched near an exam table with a cluster of guards around him, some with batons in their hands, others with guns. Bucky looked up, eyes wide. His face was battered, and his arms were shackled in front of him. He wore a blinking metal collar around his neck — a goddamned collar, like an animal.
Steve took a step closer to the portal, but Sam’s hand on his arm stopped him from going further. Seeing this version of his friend, wounded and shackled once again, felt like a kick to the chest. The doctors and armed guards startled and turned to look at the portal. Half the guns turned to face Wong, and the other half remained poised on Bucky.
"S-Sam?" Bucky muttered, eyes fixed on Steve.
A splinter of guilt skewered Steve's chest. Even after everything, with his own life on the line, Bucky was still protecting Steve. Whoever the men were holding Bucky, they didn't recognize Steve. They weren’t expecting him to be an old man.
Bucky sprang into action, sending the closest guard sailing through the air with a shove of his shoulder. The collar around Bucky’s neck beeped, and guards descended on Bucky with sizzling batons that hurled a scream from him and dropped him to his knees.
"Bucky!" Steve went to launch himself through, but a hand restrained him.
"Stand down!" a guard shouted.
One of the guards fired two shots into the portal. Steve and Sam dove. Instantly the portal vanished, cutting off Bucky's scream
"You okay, Cap?" Sam asked, already back on his feet. He extended a hand.
Steve batted the hand away and made it to his feet on his own, although not as gracefully as he used to. "Why the hell did you stop me?"
Sam raised his hands placating only. "What exactly do you think was going to happen if you made it through that portal? You can’t take on an entire facility of armed men in your current condition."
Steve gritted his teeth. He might be old, but he wasn't dead yet.
"Mr. Wilson is right." Dr. Strange floated down the staircase. "If you’d made it through that portal, you'd be a prisoner, too."
"The room was garden variety evil lab, but those uniforms…." Sam looked at the empty space where the portal had been. "That was the Raft. If we're going to help him, we have to be smart about it."
"You're right." Steve’s anger at Sam deflated. He didn't like it, and he hated himself for not being able to charge in and get Bucky out of there. "We do need to be smart about this.” An idea was beginning to percolate. It was crazy. Reckless. Dangerous. “Do you know where Scott Lang is?"
The narrow gaze that Sam sent his way told Steve that Sam had a pretty good idea where his mind was heading. "Yeaaah... You're gonna do something stupid, aren't you?"
"Probably, but stupid has worked out for me before. We're also going to need Bruce."