Twisted Ends

Bucky could feel the long tendrils of rage clawing at his insides, the prickling and explosive heat simmering just below the surface. Watching. Waiting. Observing. Biding its time before it reared its murderous head and shredded everyone around him to pieces.

He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath through his nostrils. He needed to compose himself. He was letting his emotions cloud his judgement, to drive his decisions. No, he thought. That wouldn’t do. He was better than that. In fact, he was the best, thanks to seventy years of captivity and torture and-

No. He needed to stop. He needed to get it together. He was diving back down a dark, infinite pit of despair. Of something not completely himself. Something animalistic and unhuman. He wasn’t that person anymore. Wasn’t that THING. He was James Bucky Barnes. He was making amends. He was doing good. He WAS good. He wasn’t a monster; he never had a choice-
Another deep breath. But he needed to lean on the skills that had been forced upon him all those years ago, use what had been given without permission by those that were targeting them. Targeting Rhodey. Targeting SAM.

Sam, who had helped people. Sam, who always did what he thought was right, regardless of his own wellbeing. Sam, who had his faults and always took accountability. That same accountability that was now lashing back at him, being thrown back into his face.

Bucky felt his mood cloud further, the Vibranium of his arm creaking under the strain of his fist. His stomach tumbled into knots over the outcomes ping ponging in his head, things he didn’t want to do. Things he was more than likely going to have to do, to revert back into a darker version of himself.
He wasn’t a killer anymore. At least, that was what he had been telling himself these last few months. But now, with these dark, vengeful thoughts swirling around in his head, he wasn’t entirely sure where the Winter Soldier had ended, and he had begun.

“Buck?” Sam materialized in front of him, drawing him from his musings. He was looking at him with those big, expressive brown eyes. Concern was carved into his face, a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. “You good?”

Bucky shrugged. No. He wasn’t. But he’d do what he always did. What he did when Steve had just been a sickly kid getting beat up in Brooklyn back alleys. He’d play face. He’d pretend.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” He lied, moving to take a stand near the billboard Rhodes had hastily thrown together. His eyes drunk in the endless amount of paperwork, scanning in the information and calculating. Plotting. To someone else, it would look like just a mere collection of random words, documents and names. But to him…he was trained for this. He knew what to look for, the patterns to follow. The threads to untwist. He clicked his tongue. He could feel that anger continuing to simmer, as well as another emotion he knew intimately. Fear.

“You don’t look it.” Sam appeared again, his stare boring holes into the side of Bucky’s head. Bucky sighed in exasperation. Christ, he was like a dog with a bone.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but when someone I know tries to kill me, and believe me, I’m VERY familiar with the feeling, it doesn’t make me feel too chipper.”

Sam grimaced.“ Okay, fair point.” He stated, eyeing the board with a weary huff. “But are we sure it’s even Sharon?” Bucky glowered.

Sam was many things. He was smart, kind, and compassionate. He was forgiving and empathetic.

He was also blind. And incredibly dense. And one of the biggest idiots he knew.

“Sam, really?’

“Don’t ‘Sam, really?’ me, Barnes.”

“My apologies. I’ll rephrase. Are you fucking stupid-“

“Gentleman, let’s save the usual cutesy bullshit for another time, shall we?” Rhodes quipped, a piping cup of coffee steaming in his hands. Bucky could smell the hazelnut creamer, two spoonsful of sugar and the delicious amount of caffeine. He blinked. He could really go for a cup right about now.

Rhodey continued, oblivious. “Much as I enjoy our usual team banter, I’d really like to get to the bottom of why my house is currently bugged more than a termite infested log.” Rhodes leaned down to his cup, eyes closing and taking in a deep whiff. The bastard. Bucky openly gawked. Sam cut him a stern ‘don’t start’ look and gave an exhausted sigh. Like he was a child. Rude.

Bucky glanced between Rhodes and his coffee, slowly raising his brows. Rhodes blankly looked back before glancing down, guffawing obstinately.

“Quit that shit.” Rhodey clutched his cup, bringing it possessively to his chest. “Caffeine doesn’t even affect you anyway.”

“Wow, that’s cold, Rhodes.”

“You know that’s right.” Rhodey gingerly placed his coffee on a coaster. He pinned Bucky with an aggravated glower. “Can we please focus on the task at hand?”

Bucky gave a nonchalant shrug.

“Jesus Christ. How do you two get anything done?” Rhodey questioned, moving to his pile of never-ending documents. Sam piped up. “It’s hard.”

“Obviously.”

Rhodey pinned more papers to the board, stabbing them into the cork with an aggressive vigor. Good to know that he was at least on the same page. Unlike a certain dense Captain America. Small mercies.

“What’s the hurry, Rhodes? Worried about your internet history leaking?” Bucky quipped. Rhodes gave him a pointed look.

“Really?”

Bucky shrugged again, leaning back against the wall. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were still being watched. Or maybe he was just paranoid. Wouldn’t that be nice? He jutted his chin to the board. “What do we know so far besides the obvious?”

Rhodey sighed, picking his cup back up and taking a long sip. Dick.

“Well, unfortunately things don’t seem to be boding well for a certain associate of ours.” He sighed. “Now, I’m not entirely familiar with the CIA’s current missions regarding human trafficking. Not entirely sure that’s up their alley much these days, considering we have giants breaking through the Earth’s crust and the threat of alien invasion and all. But what I DO know is that there are A LOT of discrepancies in their department regarding the use of funds in Madripoor, as well as some activity in Russia and Sokovia. Now, none of that is entirely unusual. But what IS, is that there are repeats of names in these reports. Members of the GRC are signing off on these assignments. And these names are known HYDRA operatives that we have very recently sniffed out, I might add.”

Rhodey heaved himself down into a nearby recliner, continuing to nurse his coffee. “Another thing to note is where these people are ending up.” Rhodey handed Bucky a document. Bucky scanned it over, feeling himself grow more and more uneasy. He could feel that inkling again, clawing at the back of his consciousness. That sixth sense of his was trying to tell him something.

“These are known locations that were controlled by the Power Broker.” Bucky said, his mouth suddenly tasting bitter. “I thought the Power Broker went off grid shortly after our stint there? And after Karli stole the last of the Super Soldier serum.”

Rhodes nodded an affirmative, casting a glance towards Sam. Bucky noted how Sam was shifting his weight from heel to heel, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Bucky couldn’t say that he blamed him. Sam was many things, but espionage was certainly not his forte. Or it could have been the mention of Karli, the wound still fresh.

“You’re correct. Every facility we’ve dug up has known connections to the Power Brokers empire, or what was anyway. Now, we don’t have anyone there on ground to confirm, but I’m betting money that this is all somehow connected.” Rhodey rubbed at his temples. “Problem is, I’m just not sure how.”

Bucky could feel that tickle in the back of his brain growing more and more persistent, like a phantom itch that just wouldn’t go away. He tapped his bicep absently, a knot beginning to form at the pit of his stomach. Images of the chair and cryochamber flashing vividly in his mind. “Well, I think I might have a few ideas.”

Sam gave him an encouraging nod. “What are you thinking, Buck?”

Bucky chewed on his lip, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. Sam noticed. Of course he did, brown eyes flashing with discomfort. He placed a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder, the warmth doing nothing to chase away the chill that was slowly trickling down his spine.

“I don’t think you’re going to like it, Sam.”

Sam frowned. “I don’t like it when people threaten me and threaten to kill my friends.” Rhodey cleared his throat. Sam hurriedly added, “And bug their homes. Can’t forget that.”

Bucky took in an unsteady breath, fingers slowly tightening around his bicep. He needed to ground himself. He needed to keep himself in the here, in the now. Not the past.
He licked his lips in trepidation. “I think the Power Broker is trying to recreate the Super Soldier serum.” He could feel himself fighting to keep his breathing under control. “I think they are trying to recreate the Winter Soldier program.”

“Woah there, Barnes.” Rhodey sat up in his seat. “That's one hell of an assumption. What makes you think that?”

Bucky walked to the board, picking up a marker. He began to highlight the data that struck him as odd. His eyes frantically scanned the information in front of him, highlighting dates, shipments, and the numbers of people being trafficked.

These weren’t just numbers. They were people. People who had had families, loved ones, lives. They had been robbed, just the same as he had.
He felt like he was going to be ill. The ghosts were back, their hands clawing at him and tugging at his clothing. At his hair. At his-

He cleared his throat. “Look at the dates and number of people being moved in. They are always within two weeks.” Sam came to stand beside him, eyes roaming over the data. Bucky swallowed. “There’s also this right here.” He pointed to a small section at the bottom of the cork board. “That’s a crematorium that’s on the books.” He paused, trying to swallow around the sudden tightening in his throat.

He was transported to Nazi Germany, back before he had been introduced to HYDRA. Back when he had just been Sergeant Barnes. And even then, he had still been surrounded by death and heartbreak. Surrounded by the vile evilness and apathy of humans.

He could still remember the black smoke billowing out of chimneys, as clear as if it was yesterday. He could hear the screams of mothers as they clutched at small shoes echoing in his ears. He could remember the overwhelming sense of guilt at being too late, at upchucking his MRE’s behind a tree, sobbing until he cried himself dry. He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present.

‘History is always repeating itself.’

Rhodey stood up, walking over to the board with wide eyes. He turned to Bucky, head tilting slightly in disbelief. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?” Bucky gave a troubled nod. Rhodey pointed at the board, finger smacking the highlighted letterings with such force he poked a hole clean through. Bucky felt himself flinch.

“You’re telling me that HYDRA is disposing of people by cremating them?” A curt nod. Rhodey quickly left the room, turning the corner swiftly towards the bathroom. Bucky cursed his enhanced hearing, clenching his teeth as the sound of retching reached his ears.

“You think they’re experimenting on them, don’t you?” Sam murmured breathlessly, sorrowful eyes looking at the board as if he stared intensely enough, that maybe he could will it away. Bucky wished, not for the first time in his overextended life, that it could be that simple.

“I don't think. I know.” Bucky turned his gaze to the floor, nose crinkling as the echoes of screams resonated in his eardrums. “It makes sense why they continue needing shipments. No one is making it to the next phase.” He sniffed. “It was the same at Azzano, when I first got the serum. No one else besides me survived.”

Sam’s eyes searched his own, piercing down into his very core. He seemed surprised at the information, not that Bucky blamed him. It wasn’t a time he was exactly found of. The only people that knew about Azzano where long dead or fucking around in another timeline. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t important.

He rubbed his neck, trying to stretch out his trapes. The muscles were beginning to spasm around his prosthetic, and he could feel the migraine slowly creeping in.

“They’re needing to replace test subjects when the others kick the bucket. The best way to dispose of that number of people without attracting attention is cremation. Digging mass graves is somewhat of a giveaway to nefarious shit.”

Sam looked sick. He turned back to the board, hand coming up to rub his chin. “I just can’t believe that Sharon could be in on something so…evil.” He turned to Bucky. “She was our friend, Buck. She was Steve’s friend. And Tony’s. How could she turn like this?”

Bucky slowly shook his head. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Sam.” He breathed. “We were gone for five years. A lot can happen to a person in that timespan. A lot can change.”

“A person can change from a friend into whatever this is?” Sam waved at the paperwork in disbelief. Bucky shifted uncomfortably. Sam looked at him and cursed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t mean it like that. This-” he motioned to the wall of evidence, “This is nothing like what happened to you. This...this is something else.”

Bucky sniffed. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Sam.”

Sam gave him a considering look. He gave a tight shrug, turning away from the board. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m still sorry. I can’t imagine that this is easy for you. Any of it. And this shit,” Sam took in a deep breath, “You are nothing like this, Buck.”

Bucky sucked his teeth, his voice coming out lower than he intended. “I’m not made of glass, Sam.”

Sam sighed. “I know you’re not, Buck. You’re the strongest person I know. That doesn’t mean that this still can’t bother you. You can still have emotions. Opinions on matters, especially like these.”

Bucky could feel the prickle in his eyes. He blinked it away. Rhodes came stumbling back, thank fuck, saving him from having to answer.

“You alright?” Bucky asked, handing Rhodey is abandoned mug. Rhodes nodded, taking the cup gratefully.

“You didn’t poison this or whatever, did you?” Rhodes asked.

Bucky rolled his eyes. He welcomed the intrusion, the quick wit to bring the mood back from its dour turn. “Sorry, but no. I really don’t want to deal with the backlash of poisoning a Colonel, you know? The U.S government barely forgave me for Kennedy. I don’t think they’d let you slide.”

Rhodes paused mid sip. “You’re the one who assassinated Kennedy?”

Bucky blinked. “…no?”

Rhodes gawked, slowly bringing the mug to his lips. Bucky squinted. Rhodes just slurped obnoxiously and unbothered, and Bucky started to ponder if maybe he really was willing to risk that pardon. Sokovia could be nice this time of year, anyway. It would be so easy…

Sam let out a disgruntled sigh, striding over to Rhodey and snatching his cup. Rhodey stood frozen, eyes peering into the empty space where his cup had just been in admonishment. “The fuck?”

Sam dumped the coffee down the drain, giving Bucky a pointed look. Bucky gasped. “The fuck, Sam!”

“Guys. Let’s stop talking about poisoning and killing each other, please? We need a gameplan.” Sam, the ever-respectful house guest, rinsed and toweled off the mug before turning to face them. Bucky could see the worry burrowing between his brows, the corner of his eyes were pinching in dejection.

“Look…I know that I’ve been adamant about wondering if Sharon is truly up to this, but if it IS her, how come she hasn’t shown up in any of these documents?” Sam paused, taking a breath and glancing up at the ceiling. Another breath before continuing. “How can we be so sure?”

Bucky considered Sam’s posture, how he was holding himself. His arms were crossed tightly to his chest, weight shifting from his left to his right foot, toe tapping anxiously. There was a hopeful glint in his eyes. Bucky sighed.

“Sam…” he hesitated. He could feel Sam coiling tighter on himself. He didn’t want to be do this. He didn’t want to be the one to break him, to destroy his outlook on a person he had called friend. Had trusted, openly and without question. But it wouldn’t be far to dump that on Rhodes, either. Bucky sniffed.

“Sam, it’s the fact her name ISN’T on here. Sharons good. She probably figured her name popping up would draw suspicion, so she scrubbed and took great care to insure she was nowhere to be found in your snooping.” Bucky rubbed his shoulder. God, his fucking prosthetic was killing him.

“But that’s where she messed up, it’s too clean.” Sam was looking between Rhodey and Bucky, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper in confusion. Rhodey cut in.

“Think of it like this, Sam. You suspect someone of murder, right?” Sam nodded; Bucky gaped. So that’s the analogy he was going with. Jesus.

“If you walk into someone’s house you suspect of murder and it’s clean, like STERILE clean, that can strike someone as odd, right?” Sam pulled a face.

“What?”

Rhodey sighed. “Like,” he gestured wildly with his hands, “You know, you go into someone’s house and it’s meticulously neat. And everything is scrubbed, and nothing is out of place? Like it’s not lived in?” Bucky felt himself slowly turning to glower at Rhodes. Sam frowned.

“Like…like Bucky’s apartment?” Sam asked.

Rhodey clapped. “Yes! Exactly like-“ Rhodey finally caught his frown, and Bucky poured every once of annoyance and pettiness into his stare. He felt Rhodes shrink ever so slightly. Good.

“Actually, you know what? No, not anything like that. Uh, let me think…”

“Sam,” Bucky cut in, moving to Sam’s side. He cautiously took Sam’s hands in his own, a move Sam had done for him countless times in the past. He gave them a gentle squeeze. “I know this is hard, and I’m sorry this is what it’s coming down to. I really, truly am. But it’s all right in front of us. The records, locations. Sharon works for the CIA, in the department overseeing the funds being distributed to the GRC for approval, and she is still known to use her ties overseas in Madripoor for her work. Don’t you think her name should show up somewhere?”

Sam huffed, looking anywhere but him. “Buck,” he whispered softly. “I don’t know if I can go up against Sharon.”

“I don’t think she’s going to give you a choice, Sam.” Bucky sighed. “If she’s behind all of this, we need to be ready, because she’s not just going to sit back and let us take her in. There are bigger things at play here.”

“I know, Bucky.”

“I know you do, which is why you’ve gotta trust me on this.” Bucky moved his hands to Sam’s shoulders.

“I do trust you, Buck. I trust you with my life.” Sam said solemnly.

Bucky searched Sam’s eyes, trying to weed out a lie. He scanned his features, looking for any sign of deceit. Of disgust. Of doubt. He found nothing of the sort.
Sam was looking at him like he hung the moon and stars. Like he had all the answers, all his emotions showing brightly on his sleeves. Even after all of this, after what someone he had trusted had done, had been CAPABLE of, Sam was still trusting. Still so…Sam.

Bucky felt like his throat was threatening to close on itself, suddenly tightening like a vice around his airway. His tongue was heavy like lead. He didn’t know what to say. He struggled to breathe in. It felt like too much.

Rhodes cut in, slicing through Bucky’s thoughts. “Well, then let’s get to work, boys. Think it’s time we cut to the chase before someone notices their special toys are MIA.”

Sam nodded quietly, gently pulling away from Bucky and moving back to the board. Bucky swore he felt just a little colder at the distance.

“Where do we start? Do we go to her office? To Madripoor?” Sam questioned, chewing anxiously at his nails.

‘Guess it’s my time to shine, then.’ Bucky internally sighed, rolling his shoulders back. Now wasn’t the time for hesitation. It was time for confidence, a time to use his specific set of skills. Bucky grimaced. It was time to become what he was best at. A ghost. A phantom. A nightmare.

He strode over, plucking a set of keys from Rhodeys desk. Rhodey gave him an agitated scoff, eyes narrowing as he flipped the keys through his nimble fingers. He gave his best sly smirk, his lips pulling across his teeth like an unused mask.

“Well,” he drawled, spinning the keys on his finger. “I think I might have a few ideas.”

Rhodey groaned, head leaned back as he slumped defeated into his recliner. “If it involves the destruction of my personal property Barnes, I’ll kill you.”

Bucky responded with a nonchalant shrug, ignoring how his gut was churning violently in his gut. "You really have that little faith in me, Rhodes?"

"I have zero percent faith in you. I have more faith with a hamster behind the wheel then I do you."

"Wow, that's hurtful."

Shit would probably work out. It normally did. Usually. Besides, there was really only one way to find out. No use gawking around and attempting to prevent the inevitable. Hopefully he’d retain all his toes when the day was over and done. One could hope. And prove that he was more reliable with vehicles then a rodent. Words he never thought he'd be pondering over.

He shook the keys in his fingers, taking small pleasure in how Rhodes’ expression darkened.

“Lets go have a party then.”