Who the hell is Bucky?
Steve was growing despondent. It was clear to anyone who looked.
Since the day that Tony had told him about their time travel, he’d imagined the day he would be reunited with Bucky. Because, apparently, that was an option.
An option he so cherished.
Each piece of intel that brought them ‘closer’ took him on a journey. an adrenaline high, and the inevitable fall. Because each base was like a single cookie crumb leading them towards the final destination which remained nebulous.
Except the more they uncovered and raided, the more careful HYDRA became. And the more hidden the breadcrumbs became. It was a vicious cycle. But Steve tried to keep the faith.
He would get to Bucky and he would finally be able to fulfil his promise of keeping him safe.
He’d never had an easy life. And perhaps in his younger days, he had at least the illusion of carefree-ness. But he couldn’t really be sure. He had no memory of being any age other than this exact one.
Although… if he thought hard enough, he got flashes of himself with shorter hair, brighter colours.
He tries to chase the thought. Who was that man who he shared a face with?
Maybe he should ask.
And then.
Pain. Electric pain. Fire running under his skin.
He shouldn’t have asked.
He remembers the day he met Bucky, clear as day even if it was a century ago.
Him and Arnie had stopped some kids from taking Steve’s lunch money.
All of 25 cents. The thought made him laugh. Inflation was a bitch, wasn’t it?
Steve remembers the way he’d stuck by them instantly, he remembers their innate camaraderie. The way that Bucky would act like a shield between him, Arnie, and the world.
He’d remembered the day he found Arnie under the bleachers with Michael and realized why Bucky was so protective of them.
He doesn’t recognize the people around him. He blinks, once, twice. Then the words begin. And where the words are, seering pain follows.
He feels information unlocking. Designation, Mission, Handler.
He looks around and feels like he finally remembers where he is. What he’s supposed to do.
He stands.
It’s time.
Walking through the hall, Steve keeps his shoulders hunched. He wasn’t in the mood.
He passes Thor first, stuffing something in his face.
“It didn’t go well,” he says curtly, stemming any questions that could be thrown his way.
Approaching the fridge, Steve begins his smoothie making mechanically.
He hears footsteps. Tony, he identifies by the pattern.
Immediately, he turns towards the blender, away from the door, hunching his shoulders even higher.
“We’ll get ‘em next time, Steve,” Tony says instantly, footsteps stalling.
Steve sighs, trying to let the negative emotions ebb away. He turns back around, taking a large sip straight out of the blender jar.
“I know. Any leads?” he asks after swallowing.
“I don’t think he’d be at a base,” Tony answers. He walks over and settles in beside Thor, reaching over to pat his shoulder.
He’d never had an easy life. And perhaps in his younger days, he had at least the illusion of carefree-ness. But he couldn’t really be sure. He had no memory of being any age other than this exact one.
Although… if he thought hard enough, he got flashes of himself standing with another man—a boy, really.
He tries to chase the thought. Who was that man who he shared a face with?
Maybe he should ask.
And then.
Pain. Electric pain. Fire running under his skin.
He shouldn’t have asked.
Steve hunched his shoulders again, trying his hardest to blend with the crowd. They didn’t want him to play the undercover role, but he argued that it was supposed to be bad undercover work so he sort of fit the bill.
He takes a sip of the cappuccino, the ceramic looking miniature in his hand. He wants to laugh at the imagery, but manages to maintain his composure.
He looks down at the empty cup… It’s time.
He rises from his chair into semi-hunched stance, looking around, before walking out the door.
He doesn’t recognize the people around him. He blinks, once, twice. Then the words begin. And where the words are, seering pain follows.
He feels information unlocking. Designation, Mission, Handler.
He looks around and feels like he finally remembers where he is. What he’s supposed to do.
He stands.
It’s time.
Steve leans against the wall, going for casual. He wasn't really achieving that effect.
They'd been setting the trap for a month now. He believed in the plan. He did.
And he knew that nerves were natural.
But his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. And his hand was shaking a little.
But, still, he waited.
A chirp in his earpiece told him that all was going according to plan. Amazingly, all that did was ramp up his nerves.
He fought against his instinct to scan the environment because he was playing the character of himself playing the character of a normal guy.
He straightened his back, making a couple of small steps towards the alley. He starts ‘scouting the area’ and mumbling pieces of his script into his earpiece.
He could distantly hear the consistent thump of foot steps approaching. He walks deeper into the alley, turning and posing as if planning to scale the wall. He looks upwards and in the periphery he sees a shadowy figure stop at the mouth of the alley.
Steve turns again, putting his back towards him, and walks towards the dead-end. He hears the approach, but pretends to ignore it.
He wants to scoff at how obvious he was being, but Steve assumes that it was part of it. Taunting him before snatching him up and hiding him away.
Steve walks farther into the alley. The man follows. Finally, Steve turns around.
“You lost, buddy?”
All he got was a grunt in return and the man began approaching steadily. Steve could hear the stomping footrest of at least 7 other men, approaching.
Steve smirks at the man. It was now or never.
He lunges then, the Winter Soldier responding in kind. The two jump into light brawl. Light mostly because Steve was focusing on getting him in position rather than actually fighting him off.
He hears the distant agents pause in the distance. He taps his earpiece, “Rock and Roll,” he mutters, trying to be quiet.
The Winter Soldier flinches at that, head tilting in confusion. Which gives Steve enough time to push him one last time, roughly towards the back wall.
Right as he was about to impact against the wall, a portal appears in its place, leaving him to fall through.
Steve watches it close, tapping his foot as he waits for his own. A second portal appears then, right as he could hear the agents advancing, he leaps through instantly, almost knocking Stephen over.
“How come you’re never that excited to see me?” Tony drawls as Steve rushes to right his posture. He blushes lightly, sending Tony a look before looking towards the back section of the room.
There the Winter Soldier stood, punching an invisible barrier repetitively. He didn’t seem like he was going to tire at any point.
Steve turns to scan the room. They were currently in the sub-basement. Tony, Loki, and Stephen were helping run this whole operation. Hela had invited herself, claiming expertise in ‘magic’, although she wasn’t offering any help. Bruce and Thor were lurking in the background.
Steve sighs, turning to Loki, “now what?”
Loki sends him a look, “I can restore his memories. I’ve never done it before, but I found it an old enough text that it can be trusted.”
Hela, siting on a couch in the background—one that she’d made appear as soon as they got there— snorts at Loki, “You justify your qualifications to the mortals? You never seize to disappoint, little brother.”
Her apathetic drawl seems to startle Bucky, who pauses to scan his surroundings again, and then seems reinvigorated in his punching.
Loki scoffs at his sister, refusing to turn and acknowledge her prone form.
Steve nods at Loki absently, his gaze drifting naturally back to Bucky.
Steve sighs again, deeper this time, “We should at least try to get consent?”
An hour later, they were no closer to getting a coherent answer from him. And he was still punching.
Tony sighs, "I'm the last person to suggest something like this, but we should just go ahead.. there isn't going to be any improvement here.”
Steve nods in response, humming before leaning back in his chair.
They’d arranged themselves in a semi-circle around the barrier. It was an odd thing to look at, a force-field. It was incredibly sci-fi and he was reluctantly awed at Hela’s abilities, but he’d be remiss to ever admit that to the woman.
Steve watches as Loki stands up, looking intent. He instinctively shuts his eyes. He reopens them the next second. He couldn’t afford to be squeamish about this whole thing, not right now at least. Not when Bucky wasn’t in control of his mental faculties and Steve was his oldest friend.
Not when Steve had already assigned himself responsible for Bucky’s capture and now his recovery.
As Steve rose to his feet, he tried to steel his nerves. He kept his eyes on Bucky, protective and assessing. He makes an aborted step forward before remembering the force field.
“Bucky. I’m sorry about this. I’m not sure if this is going to hurt,” he tries to project his voice confidently, but he can detect the warbling.
Bucky punches the wall two more times before stopping and instead f the expected snarls, he tilts his head, eyes looking remarkably lucid. “Who the hell is Bucky?”
Steve startles at that, “You are.” Bucky seems to look pensive at that, looking around as if to confirm that he wasn’t the only one who heard it. Bucky then flinches, so strongly he almost loses his balance.
Steve watches carefully, shielding his reactions, trying to understand. He comes up blank, he’s never dealt with anything like this and none of his research prepared him for being faced with it. Well, Steve thought, he supposes it did. But the addition of his emotions was throwing him off his game.
Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.
Flashes of a man with the same face with shorter hair and brighter colours.
He tries to chase the thought. Who was that man?
And beside him, another. He's seeing him now, is it real or in this mind?
Maybe he should ask.
He anticipates the pain. It is a familiar thing. He knows not to ask, but he can't stop the question.
Yet, the pain doesn't come.
The images continue to flash, his to keep, finally.
Bucky is me? So who is the other one?
Tony felt like watching Steve was just as torturous as watching Bucky. He looked tortured, emotionally. Well, he supposes they all are. Tony steps forward, lifting a hand to clasp Steve’s shoulder gently, “Hey, let’s give them some space to work, yeah?”
Despite the lack of response, he began pulling him back, away from the forcefield. He hands him a glass of water before sitting beside him.
Steve looks at the water like it’s a foreign object before returning his gaze in front of him, looking like he was holding vigil. Tony sighs, slumping down a little, he joins him in watching.
Loki and Stephen were standing in line, facing the forcefield. Across the iridescent barrier Bucky stood, stock-still. His posture was stiff, as if at attention, but his eyes were clouded. He looked lost in his own thought, pensive and more than a little devastated.
Loki and Stephen continued to speak amongst themselves, murmuring in low tones. They seemed to be formulating or confirming a game plan that they both disagreed on. Tony watched, interested to see how it would turn out. And before he could find out, Hela stood suddenly.
The movement in his periphery grabs Tony’s attention instantly. He’d almost forgotten she was even there. He watches as she approaches, in almost a cat-like prowl, stopping in between the two men.
“You’re both pathetic,” she spat, putting a hand on both their shoulders and pushing them back.
She looks straight at Bucky, walking forwards and through the barrier. “You,” she snaps, raising her hand to float in front of his head. Bucky’s eyes clear immediately, snapping forward to meet her hand and flinch. Before he could get far, Hela whispers something—that no one catches—which soothes his expression and posture.
The noise coming through the barrier is muffled, making it hard to follow, and putting most people on edge. They tried, and failed, to get through the barrier, but they knew they weren’t any sort of match for her.
Her hand continues its approach, the palm of her hand finally meeting his forehead. Bucky hardly flinches at the contact.
The images flash, faster now. He can’t grasp a single one, like sand through his fingers.
Coney Island. Rebecca. Hot dogs. A uniform and freshly buzzed hair.
The memories start clicking into place.
Coney Island with Steve. Rebecca off to boarding school. Hot dogs and Delores. The Commandos.
He was Bucky. The blonde was Steve.
He was… He was a monster.
This time, Bucky flinches so hard he falls over.
And as Bucky topples over, Hela withdraws her hand, watching apathetically, not even bothering to help.
The others startle, but she can hardly hear it. With a wave of her hands, the the barrier collapses, immediately sending someone lurching towards her.
She side-steps before looking up, “Now, was that so hard?” She tilts her head with a smirk before disappearing in a cloud of green.
Loki breaks the tense silence with a scoff, “The smoke was entirely for show.”
Steve is at Bucky’s side instantly, checking his pulse. “Is he.. is this supposed to happen?”
Loki hums, approaching, “She more or less did what I was planning.”
“-And like I’d said, it might be too much at once,” Stephen adds.
Loki huffs, kneeling lightly before moving a hand to float near Bucky’s forehead. Steve flinches, almost swatting him away, before stopping himself.
Loki ignores it, continuing with his assessment. “He’ll be fine, he’s enhanced. He needs time.”
Loki stands then, turning towards the rest of the room, bowing before disappearing in a similar fashion as Hela.
“As much as I hate magic, I love the drama,” Tony remarks, standing from his chair. “Steve get him to the bed, yeah?”
--
It was hours later that Bucky stirred. Steve was instantly at his side, offering him water. Bucky takes the water on reflex, gulping it down, before becoming conscious of his surroundings.
In that time, Stephen appears in the doorway, making a few small steps forward.
Bucky’s eyes, Steve notices, are substantially different than the Winter Soldier’s had been. The blue seems almost lighter, and significantly more alive. Although the second Steve catches his eyes, he sees a brief flicker before they shutter.
Steve feels his heart lurch. Was something wrong? Steve greets him immediately, voice soft. Bucky flinches immediately, looking troubled.
Steve frowns, unsure of how to respond. Before he could ask again, Bucky turns his head towards Stephen.
“Where am I?” he asks, head turned towards Stephen, refusing to acknowledge Steve.
Steve watches silently, feeling oddly rejected. Something was wrong, it must be.
Stephen continues, uncaring to the tension in the room, “You’re in New York. Can you tell me your name?”
“I’m James Barnes— Bucky,” he takes a breath. “How am I here. How is this happening?”
Stephen moves forward, stopping to lean his hip at the foot of the bed, “We sort of.. kidnapped you. With noble intentions.” Stephen sighs, “I know how it sounds.” He taps something on the StarkPad in his hands, “We found your identity through HYDRA’s servers, and did what we could to bring you home.”
Bucky rakes hand through his hair, “I don’t have a home anymore.”
Steve stands up suddenly, “Bucky, that’s not true. I’m here.”
Bucky, finally, pulls his attention towards Steve, his face pulling into a pained grimace. He doesn’t say anything, but he nods minutely.
Steve tries to keep his face neutral still, unsure of if he succeeded. Something was wrong. Did he even recognize him?
“Do you-..” he starts, almost accusatory, before reigning himself in. “Do you have any memories?”
Bucky looks away then, down at the bedspread, “I remember everything.”
Stephen’s voice breaks through the tension, “Well… that’s good.” He stands up, “Get some rest, don’t strain yourself too much.”
Before he leaves, he places the StarkPad on the bed, "Use this to catch up, there's a course on here."
Bucky nods at that, face still pointed towards the bedspread. Steve watches as Bucky shoots an awkward glance at him from the corner of his eyes. He sighs.
“I’ll uh-..” He steps away, “I’ll leave you to it.”
Steve walks out the door, heart feeling like it was breaking. Maybe he was the thing that was wrong.