Chapter 2
After the fourth time gasping awake with Bucky’s name on his lips, Steve gave up on sleep and slipped out of bed. He pulled the curtain aside to see that the sun was just starting to illuminate the city, and quickly changed into workout clothes. He grabbed a pen and paper from Sam’s drawers on his way out and left a quick note, Gone for a run. SR, before hurrying out the door.
The sharp breeze in the morning felt cleansing. It wasn’t uncommon for him to dream of the train, but now his brain had more ammo to fuel his nightmares.
Bucky falling from the train, Bucky tortured in the chair, Bucky forced into the cryo chamber, Bucky calling his name for help, Bucky looking straight into his eyes and not recognizing him, Bucky falling from the train again… and all with the clear message: why didn’t you save me. Why didn’t you stop this pain.
In the bunker at Camp Lehigh, Zola had said Steve died for nothing because Hydra was still alive and thriving. Except Steve didn’t put the plane in the water just to defeat Hydra; he did it to avenge Bucky’s death. So although Zola didn’t have the whole picture, he was definitely right about one thing: Steve died for nothing because he failed to save Bucky.
He was determined never to fail again.
Steve’s feet slammed against the pavement repeatedly as he thought. The problem was his total lack of data points with which to make a plan. He knew he couldn’t trust his gut anymore when it came to what Bucky would do; Bucky had been an assassin for 70 years, which was twice as long as Steve had known him in the last century. He couldn’t assume that Bucky would remember everything at once, or that he would follow what the old Bucky would do even if he did remember.
It would be a lot easier with Natasha. She knew way more about that kind of world and how to run this kind of mission, but she was off who-knows-where doing whatever it was that she needed to do. Steve didn’t even know how to contact her.
Of course, Steve could also go to Tony. With all the resources at his disposal, he was sure Tony could find more information that would help Steve make a plan. But Tony only knew him as Captain America. The man and the shield. He didn’t know Steve.
That wasn’t Tony’s fault. It had only been a few weeks since Steve had been pulled out of the ice before he was brought to Fury’s helicarrier to do battle against a homicidal alien. Steve spent most of that time either alone or with well-meaning but over-bearing and awe-struck SHIELD agents, none of which helped him adjust to living in a new century. It had been way easier to hide behind Captain America: a stand-up, non-controversial, order-following soldier, as that’s what most people expected him to be. Not to mention that Tony looked so much like his father…
But of course, Tony wasn’t impressed by him the way most of SHIELD had been. Steve should have expected as much, if he were being honest with himself. Howard knew that Steve was a skinny sack of bones that scientists made into a super human. Steve had nothing to do with that process and was just lucky to have been chosen, and Howard had clearly impressed that on Tony. Tony was a man of science, he became a super hero through his own hard work and genius, of course he wouldn’t admire Steve, who had been given his powers by others. Everything special about you came out of a bottle.
Not to mention, Steve had been wrong about Tony. He had accused him of selfishness, said he was unwilling to sacrifice himself for others, and Steve was wrong. Tony had taken a nuclear weapon on his back and flown it out of the atmosphere, saving the entire population of New York City, and almost died in the process.
This mission—finding Bucky, saving Bucky, bringing Bucky home—this mission was personal. This was Steve Rogers’s mission. Like he told Sam, he didn’t want to force himself into being Captain America again, at least not for this. And Tony didn’t know Steve Rogers, he only knew Captain America. Steve and Tony weren’t friends; they were, at best, co-workers: Tony Stark’s Iron Man and Steve Rogers’s Captain America. Steve couldn’t go to Tony for help, no matter how many resources Tony had at his fingertips.
Which left him back at square one.
Well. He might not have all the pieces, but Steve knew how to make a plan.
The sun had completely risen when he made his way back to Sam’s house, dripping sweat and trying not to notice the people whose eyes followed him down the sidewalk.
He let himself in. Sam was flipping bacon in the kitchen.
“This is the one time I cook for you,” Sam said without turning around. “You had an emotional breakthrough last night, so I’m making bacon, but don’t expect me to be waiting on you all the time.”
Steve laughed. “Thanks, Sam. And, hey, when you have an emotional breakthrough, I’ll cook breakfast.”
Sam snorted. “Sure you will.”
Steve grabbed a glass and filled it with water, stealing a strip of bacon off of the pile Sam was making before Sam could slap his hand away. “Today, we find Bucky.”
Sam turned around to face him, eyebrows raised. “Today?”
“Ok, fine, today we make our plan that will lead us to finding Bucky.” Steve placed the now empty glass of water on the table. “Right after I shower.”
“Thank god,” Sam said. “Apparently even super soldiers can smell.”
Steve laughed as he walked into the bathroom. Yeah, Sam was a good friend.
Steve took a short shower and came back into the kitchen, where Sam had finished cooking the bacon. There was a nice stack waiting for him next to a few boxes of cereal. Steve put a generous portion of bacon on his plate and slid Bucky’s folder closer to him.
Sam shot him a look from the opposite side of the table, but it was a bit diminished by the bacon hanging out of his mouth. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
Steve nodded. “I’m ready, Sam.” He took a bite of his own bacon as if to prove he could look for Bucky and take care of himself at the same time. “Ok, so we don’t know where Bucky is now. But we know a little about where he’s been.”
Sam looked at him skeptically. “You mean on a helicarrier that’s now in pieces at the bottom of the Potomac, or somewhere along the riverbank of the Potomac itself?”
“Yup!” Steve said brightly. “Two places we know he’s been. We can start there. We know that he was injured—I dislocated his shoulder for sure, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some internal bleeding from when the beam fell on him.”
Sam nodded. “And he probably wouldn’t go to a hospital. Because, you know, super secret assassin who was supposed to have died seventy years ago…”
Steve glared at him. “Yes. That’s one way to put it, I guess. So, he would’ve had to hole up for, I don’t know, two or three days? If he has the same healing factor as me, that would be as long as it took me heal, I think.”
“Ridiculous,” Sam muttered. “Ok, so we look for places in, say, a twenty-file mile radius of the Potomac where a scary looking white guy, who probably smells like death after climbing out of the river and may be actively bleeding, can lay low to recover for about forty-eight hours.”
“Assuming he stayed in one place,” Steve said. “I think it would be three days until I’d be battle-ready, but he could’ve been moving around with less functionality earlier than that.”
“Steve, what about the other possibility?” Sam asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s the possibility he went back to a Hydra base,” Sam said. “You said he was brainwashed. I know—” Sam held up a hand to keep Steve from protesting. “I know you said he recognized you at the end there, that he saved you from drowning in the river, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t very confused and scared. He might’ve gone back to a Hydra base for a lot of reasons, one of which being he didn’t know where else to go.”
Steve frowned, but he had to admit Sam had a point. “That could actually be good, in a way,” Steve said thoughtfully. “A Hydra base wouldn’t be that hard to find, now that we know what to look for. And if he did go back there, it’s likely there would be no one there to, uh…” Perform routine maintenance on the Asset after each mission, including fluids and any necessary maintenance on the arm. Fluids must be replenished at least one hour before the Asset enters cryo sleep. “All of Hydra probably scattered as soon as they realized Insight wasn’t going smoothly like it was supposed to. I know lots of people weren’t arrested, but I’m sure they wouldn’t have stuck around in a Hydra base waiting to be found.”
“Ok,” Sam said slowly, “that’s a surprisingly rational point.”
“So let’s start by looking for Hydra bases in DC,” Steve said, ignoring Sam’s jab. “If we find any signs that Bucky was there, that’ll help us expand the search outwards.”
Sam nodded. He pushed his plate aside and got up, grabbing his laptop off the living room table. He returned to the table and started typing. “We grabbed Sitwell here,” Sam said, and a small dot appeared on the map displayed on the screen. “And when the Winter Solider attacked our car, we are about… here.” Another dot dropped on the map.
“They drove to intercept us,” Steve added.
“So they must’ve come from nearby,” Sam said, nodding. “At most, their base had to be…” he typed a few more things and a large circle appeared on the map, “within this radius.”
“Ok,” Steve said. He thought back to the disturbing “maintenance routine” they put Bucky through. “Wherever it was, it probably needed to have access to a lot of power. If they put him in a cryo chamber… well, I’m sure it took a lot of power to keep that cold.”
Sam nodded and kept typing. “Ok, there’s twenty-six locations in that radius that use a significant amount of power. What else you got?”
“They had, what, one vehicle? Two?”
“At least five guys, I don’t think they were all crammed in the backseat,” Sam said. “So, some sort of nearby garage space.” A few more keystrokes, and the number of highlighted buildings dropped.
“What are we left with?” Steve asked.
“Let’s see… there’s two movie theaters, one office building, a couple of the Smithsonian museums, and a bank.”
“What’s the office building?” Steve asked.
Sam typed a few more things, then his shoulders slumped. “The bottom few floors are a server farm.”
“A what?”
Sam shook his head. “It’s where data… never mind, it’s not what we’re looking for. I’m sorry, man.”
“Wait,” Steve said. “How many banks are in that radius?”
“There was just the one,” Sam said, confused.
“No, how many total banks are in that radius?”
Sam’s eyebrows raised. “Oh… seven, it looks like. So why does only one bank show up with that much power?”
“Right,” Steve said. “I say we check it out.”
Sam was already flipping his laptop shut and standing up. “Let’s do it.”
They ended up choosing outfits to blend in, rather than to prepare for battle. Sam slipped a knife into his ankle-holster, but they were otherwise unarmed. Steve jammed a baseball hat on his head and looked longingly at his shield before leaving it behind. “We’re coming for you, Bucky,” he muttered, as he closed the door to Sam’s place behind him.
As soon as they got to the bank, Steve knew they were in the right place. From the outside, it looked shut down, just an empty building. The front door was locked, but Sam looked around surreptitiously while Steve forced the door open, and then they were inside.
The lobby area was dark, with the only light coming from the windows that were partially covered up. Steve didn’t like how their footsteps echoed slightly in the large, open space. He looked at Sam and gestured towards a door behind what would have been the teller’s desk. As quietly as they could, they crossed the lobby and got to the door.
“This has got to be it, Sam,” Steve whispered, looking at the electronic lock beside the door.
“It could just be the door to the vault,” Sam whispered back, but he bent down and grabbed his knife anyway.
“Then why is it armed?” Steve asked. “You ready?”
Sam moved to the side and nodded.
Steve took a deep breath, and then a few steps back. He really wished he had brought the shield—this was going to hurt a bit. He took a three-step running start and hurled himself into the door. It burst open, splintering the frame, and Steve was already running before it hit the ground.
He was vaguely aware that he was running through an abandoned office space, but he saw another door on the far wall and ran through that one, too, then skidded to a stop. This was the door to the vault, there was no doubt about that. The walls were still marble but the space was completely dark. Only with his enhanced vision could Steve tell that there were several layers of bars, like giant gilded cages, separating the space.
Sam arrived at Steve’s left shoulder, breathing heavily. He reached into his pocket and then there was a small light illuminating the space in front of them; the flashlight from his phone.
Sam turned and searched the wall until he found a small switch, and the overhead lights flickered on, casting the space in a dull yellow light. The barred doors were all open, and Steve found himself moving deeper into the vault without even thinking about it.
“Oh man,” Sam muttered behind him.
The place was trashed. Hunks of metal were lying scattered around the floor. Wires that were clearly ripped apart lay scattered all over the place. There was a fist through multiple computer screens and filing cabinets were lying on their side with papers spilling out. Worst of all, there were bloodstains on the floor and on some of the deposit boxes on the walls.
Steve sank to his knees, his breath hitching in his chest. “Bucky.”
“Your boy was definitely here.” Sam was examining the hole in one of the computer monitors. “This was broken by a fist but there’s no blood around the edges.”
Steve didn’t need the confirmation, it was like he could feel in his bones that Bucky had been here.
“Why so much destruction?” Sam asked. “It wasn’t to hide intel, or he wouldn’t have left the files.” He started picking through the mess on the floor to go look at the papers strewn about.
“The chair,” Steve murmured. Once he said it, he knew it was right. He looked at the pieces of metal on the ground, and in his mind, he pieced it into the chair he had seen a picture of in Bucky’s file. Broken shackles, a metal head piece in pieces with the wires poking out, a seat torn cleanly in two. “This used to be the chair that they used to—to wipe his memories.”
Sam exhaled sharply. “This wasn’t strategic, it was revenge.”
“Or fear,” said Steve, feeling cold all over. He’d never forgotten the haunted look on Bucky’s face when he told Bucky they were going after Zola on that train. It was just a moment, a flash of something before his jaw clenched and he looked determined, but Steve would always remember the fear in his eyes.
“Steve, look at this.” Sam had abandoned the paper files and was running his hand across the safety deposit boxes on the wall. “Some of these are open.”
“Anything in them?” Steve asked.
“No, but I think there might’ve been.”
“What?”
“Money,” Sam said. He jammed his knife into the side of a safety deposit box and pried it open. “I think he took cash.”
“Good. It was Hydra’s. Better for Bucky to have it.” Steve looked around them room, his eyes landing on the biggest bloodstain in the corner. It was splattered partially across the wall and looked like it had dripped on the ground, creating a small puddle. “Sam, how old do you guess this blood is?”
“Hm, I’d say at least a day or two, probably more,” Sam said. “It’s hard to tell, but it doesn’t smell like a battlefield in here, so he wasn’t bleeding out in here this morning or anything.”
Steve nodded. “I think you’re right. He hasn’t been here for a couple days.” He stood up quickly. “So. Where do you think he’d go next?”
“Whoa, slow down,” Sam said. “We should… I don’t know, isn’t there something we should be doing here? Someone we should call? This used to be a Hydra base—”
Steve groaned. “It’s probably a bureaucratic nightmare right now. I wouldn’t even know who to ask.” He ran his hand over the barred door. “Hill,” he said with a sigh. “We should call Hill and let her know. She can shut it down, and get any intel to Fury.”
Sam nodded. “Ok. I’ll call Hill, you take a look through some of these files and see if there’s anything useful here.”
Steve knew Sam was right. He felt desperate to run out of that bank and start yelling for Bucky, but he knew wouldn’t work. He couldn’t help but picture those last moments on the helicarrier, looking up at Bucky’s face; although one of Steve’s eyes was swollen shut and he could barely breathe, he saw the moment of recognition in Bucky’s eyes. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line. Bucky was out there, and Steve was sure he knew who Steve was. It’s not the end of the line yet, Buck, Steve thought. I’m coming.