Where Souls Are Concerned

×××

The Asset was a frightening creature, more animal than man. The baring of his teeth brought the muzzle. The straps on his uniform screamed this is an animal who needs to be locked, a man who needs to be subdued. When really, he was a walking dead man. He lived, against all odds. Some would say it was persistence. Others would say stubbornness. Then there were the ones who said it was just plain stupidity. In reality, there was no rhyme or reason. The Asset wasn't a normal being. Never had been.

Hydra loved their little pet. He was perfect. Long hair, an accessible handle. Lips with angelic curves, that looked great stretched around - A sweet, overwhelming scent of ripe apples that could attract even an alpha with the strongest will. Though his body was built too much like one of the opposite designation, he could still do what he was conditioned, ordered, to do. But still, he could tilt his chin up, bare his throat, and everyone would be reminded - this weapon, this incarnation of death and terror, was a soft omega.

But sometimes...he got a little too much personality. He would speak without having been spoken to, would challenge and glare, demand and refuse. He got irritable, snapped at people with a tongue as sharp as his canines or the knives in his holsters, pushed all the limits he could.

They were the telltale signs that he needed to be taken care of. Wiped.

He didn't glitch often. There was no one who could make him skip a beat, lose his balance, falter in any way. It was impossible. He was fluid, swift, a well oiled machine. His instincts were buried. He put the mission above the preservation of his body, above whatever his body screamed at him to do while his mind was fogged with steam.

But the man on the bridge...there was something about him that tugged on the back of his brain. Something familiar, something he longed for, something that could be hung over his head and used to manipulate him.

He didn't like that weakness. When the techs sat him down in the chair that made his mind scream no, don't come near, never again, don't take them away, part of him was glad. But the other part of him screamed in anguish for the man he had long forgotten -

How dare they take him away again.

×××

Natasha Romanoff leaned against the metal framework inside the Raft prison, staring through the prison bars at the omega, Sharon Carter at her side. Her split bottom lip and the scratch above her eyebrow stung to all hell, like little grains of salt were stuck in the folds of fair skin. Her eyelids begged to drop, her joints were sore, but she was fine - she was fine. She could stand, she could walk, she was functional. She'd sleep later. Other matters were preoccupying her.

"Have you heard anything from Sam?" Sharon asked, to fill the tense silence. She was also looking in the monochromatic holding cell, a muted look of disgust sparking in her eyes, shown in the tense curve of her upper lip.

Natasha didn't turn away from the omega in the cell. He was completely still all but for the way his body expanded and retracted with every soft inhale and silent exhale, sitting on the cold floor and staring at the wall in front of him. His arms were bound in front of him from above the elbows down to the wrists, a shock collar strapped around his throat, the mask having not moved a centimeter.

Once again, he was trapped. He'd gotten his revenge, his freedom, and he did it all for nothing. The hand holding the key had changed, that was it.

"Steve woke up this morning," Natasha replied, easily. "He likes Troubleman."

Something in the omega's eyes flashed, his eyebrows raising slightly out of their brooding expression. She found it interesting, how the omega reacted to Steve. On the bridge, in the helicarrier. Just hearing his name.

She wanted to know why the mask hadn't been taken off. Why he was still in the leather and kevlar uniform, when he should have been given Raft-issued scrubs. Hell, they hadn't even touched his mud-caked boots.

He probably hadn't let them.

"Sam's staying with him, right?" Sharon double checked. "Are they going to be coming out here?"

Natasha shrugged. "Hell if I know. Right now, I'm worrying about him." She jerked her chin toward the unmoving omega. She started to turn away. "I want to be let in.

She nodded, stepping away. Natasha pushed herself off the metal framework, planting her feet firmly in front of the barred cell. "If they let me in," she started, slowly, knowing he was able to hear her, "I want you to know that I'm not going to hurt you. I was hoping we could talk."

The omega didn't respond, all but for the twitch of his metal shoulder.

Natasha followed Sharon back out to the control room just outside the main containment cell. She pulled some strings, made some excuses, and a guard led her back around behind the cells, to the heavy duty metal doors.

"He's fiesty," the guard said, voice mostly monotone. He was a beta, very evident in the way he held himself and smelled, in the way he regarded the Winter Soldier. He turned his head to her, his eyes having gone a little wide. "Have you read the leaks?"

She didn't look back at him. "I've been sorting through them. The Winter Soldier has been through a lot of grief."

The guard didn't respond, just began to turn the metal handle to open the door. Once it was barely cracked, the smell of warm caramel and baked apples smothered them. But the omega didn't show any signs of heat, beyond a slight sheen of sweat that could have been passed off as horrible body heat regulation, or distress.

Natasha carefully stepped inside the cell, and the guard closed the door behind her. She moved to stand in front of the omega, between him and the wall he was staring at. She sat down, pulling her legs out from under her. Their positions put them on an even playing field, or as close as she could get to one.

"I'm Nat. A Black Widow. I'm sure you know."

The omega stared back at her, unresponsive. Unimpressed, maybe.

"I remember seeing you around the facility," she went on, voice steady, eyes calculating. "In action, completing a mission, it's one of the most terrifying things I've ever seen..." She tilted her head, contemplatingly. "In and out of cyro. In and out of the chair."

The omega flinched. He kept his eyes averted. The stench of heat was graced with a sudden undertone; baked apple and caramel crisp turned into overripe apples and spoiled cream.

She pushed on; "My point is - I've seen you without your mask. So may I take it off?"

The omega's eyes flicked up to hers, caution and mania present in the light blue irises. Natasha understood. It was against protocol, against the omega's programmed instincts. The mask hadn't come off on the highway, on the helicarrier, in the Potomac. Why would it come off now, when his identity was the only thing possibly protecting him? He must've put up enough of a fight that the Raft operatives hadn't been able to touch anything he wore.

Breaking away from their staring contest, the omega turned his eyes up the corner of the cell, diagonal from Natasha's right shoulder. She followed his eyes up the wall she leaned against and immediately understood. He was being watched, visual and audio, and he was plenty aware of it.

"Switch me," she offered, turning her head back. "Still being monitored, but your face will be mostly obstructed."

The omega shook his head and rolled his eyes, as if done with playing the game that was his life. He lifted his metal elbow to the edge of the bed and pushed himself up, pulling his knees under himself.

Now that he was on his feet, Natasha finally moved. They passed each other, both of them turning so their backs wouldn't be to the other, because they didn't quite trust each other. The omega leaned his back against the wall and slid down it, and Natasha lowered herself down in front of the metal bedframe.

She leaned forward, her hands carefully outstretched, elbows bent to tear them back if need be. The omega moved forward, responding to her motions, craning his chin toward her, as far away from his throat and the shock collar as he could. Though she was an omega like him, knew what she went through, he didn't trust any fingers near his throat. And she could see why, when the columns of muscle stretched underneath the metal band; baring the layers of bite marks over his mating gland, partly covered by the collar.

She didn't comment on it, just hooked her fingertips into the part of the mask that dug into his cheeks. She tugged, and the mask came free from where it squeezed his jaw. Red irritiation lines scored his cheeks, his throat just above his Adam's apple, tracing the curves of his jaw that led up to his ears. The rough, netted texture left barely-visible patterns in his cheeks.

The curve of his lips was absolute sin. If Natasha was an alpha, she definitely would have noticed him. She hated that the fact was true.

He exhaled, sighing in relief. He let his chin fall, crowding his broad shoulders back against the wall. Natasha was surprised when he spoke, quiet and breathy, though the deep grumble contrasted with that manner; "The muzzle restricts air flow and verbal communication."

Natasha glanced down at the sturdy black mask in her hands. Of course it was a muzzle.

She remembered a commotion that was once caused in the Red Room, when the Winter Soldier had been loaned out to test their training. The Soldier had gone into heat in front of the girls. Madame B crowded them to the other side of the room, though the Soldier hadn't moved. He was just still, as if he were waiting for a threat. Through everything Natalia had heard about heats, she thought he would have been writhing and begging, being a sorry excuse for a ghost story.

Then the HYDRA guards that had been brought with him walked into the training room, and the Soldier finally moved. But he didn't go toward them, like she'd thought he would. He moved away, acting against all his designation's instincts. Natalia wasn't sure how he'd been able to do it, after everything she had heard. He tried, but the guards followed, two grabbing him by the arms so a third could push the muzzle on his face. The third alpha bent his own head down, pushing his nose into the Soldier's throat, mouthing and nipping along the marred scent gland.

Natasha turned her eyes back up to the omega. "I'm sorry they made you wear it. I'm sorry for what they made you do, what they did to you."

The omega lifted his eyes up off the floor, looking into her green irises. The set of his mouth let her know that he did not believe her. But she didn't need to make him believe her. She just had to let him know.

"I know what it's like," she continued, wanting to make herself his ally. One friendly face in the midst of a dark crowd. "To have your biology used against you. The Red Room, they wanted us all to be omegas, so we could get close to the alpha leaders. They made decisions for our bodies. I've spent a lot of time reclaiming myself." She tilted her head to the side, showing the overlayed scars of temporary mating bites. "I'll be the one to bite. I won't be bitten. Not again."

The omega's eyes took on a calculating edge, like he couldn't quite believe that. That she could get away with that in the world they had to live in. He leaned forward, pulling his knees up to his chest to rest his elbows on them. He questioned, sounding genuinely curious, though at the same time bitter and challenging, "You really think you can do that?"

Natasha shrugged. "If the person I would want to mate with wants me, then they'll have to be okay with that."

He leaned forward, hunching his shoulders. "You definitely bark, Natashka. But when push comes to shove, are you sure you wouldn't give in?"

"The instincts aren't my identity. They are a part of me, yes, but they aren't me. They aren't anyone." She paused, assessing him. He seemed to be at ease, but she knew better. He was coiled, ready to jump, ready to do anything needed.

Well, so was she.

So she pushed. She gestured to her own throat. "Do you remember any of them?"

The omega dropped his chin, a low growl coming from deep in his throat, from behind his clenched teeth. She found the nerve.

"Wasn't one of them Johann Schmidt?" she toed along the line, knowing plenty well what she was doing. "The very first? Or did something from your previous life actually carry over?" The omega went completely still, the rise and fall of his chest ceasing. "Was your bond broken, Omega?"

The snarl that followed the question caused fear to sink deep into Natasha's core. It was filled with anguish and hatred. Pure agony filled her veins as the sound washed over her, picking her up into a tidal wave. The fog of heat crawled through her ears, clouding her mind.

"I need to know your limits," she tried to amend her mistake. She had pushed too far. This omega had been tortured for too long, was so alone...it wasn't fair for her to use that to her advantage. "I want to help you, but I can't do that if I don't know how you think."

The shield over his face didn't vanish, but the angry curl of his upper lip smoothed out. He jerked his head, flicking the stringy brown hair out of his face. "Why do you want to help me?"

"Because you taught me, despite the Academy, to never leave your own behind." It was true. From a young age she'd watch the Soldier hide behind his mask, whether the muzzle was on or not. She had watched him kill the girls she was raised with, land impossible shots in the field, carry on as though his heats weren't making him swelter under the leather of his uniform. She was told stories as a little girl, of the omega with the metal arm that was death incarnate, not needing anything but his body to make an effective kill. She and the other girls in the Black Widow Ops Program were told that if they didn't obey, if they rebelled or tried to escape, the omega who had nothing to lose would follow them to the ends of the Earth. But the Earth never ended. It would be futile, a never-ending cycle of running and fear until his metal hand closed around their throats or he landed a bullet in their skulls.

Through those things, Natalia promised herself she would help him, if she ever had the chance. It was the least she could do, after he spent evenings with her alone, correcting every shaking limb, stomping down on each hesitation before it could even blossom. He had kept her alive. He taught her the truth, that omegas could work through their heats, that they didn't have to depend on an alpha - it was their own choice. The Soldier, who haunted her childhood nightmares with his gunshots and gleaming arm, was a good man underneath the machinery they made him to be.

He had no choice, just like her.

The omega leaned his head back, tilting his chin up slightly. To an alpha, this was submission. To a fellow omega, this was trust. He trusted her, to an extent. She promised herself, then and there, that she wouldn't abuse it.

×××

Natasha slowly broke down the Soldier's walls. She got him to stop thinking of himself as a machine, to stop speaking through manual instructions. She got him to smile every now and then. It made her proud.

It was progress. Slow and steady.

Two months after her first visit, the door was opened and the scent of heat once again flooded her senses. Behind her, Sam hissed in surprise. Hastily, before the Raft guard - an alpha - could act, she pulled Sam inside the cell. If he was an alpha, she wouldn't have insisted he come. She wouldn't ever do that to Bez.

Bez growled, warning her. But the door slammed shut behind them before he could get anything else out. "Sorry," she apologized, genuinely. "I thought that another friendly face in the world would be nice. You said two weeks ago that it would be okay."

Bez frowned at her, lines crinkling around his eyes. The unspoken not when I'm in heat and want to tear everyone's face off was very present in what she could see of his grumpy expression. She grimaced in reply, and he huffed, turning away from her.

"This is the guy that landed Captain America in the hospital for three days?"

Behind the mask, Bez growled again, though this time the sound was deeper and more feral. Sam backed off, leaning against the prison bars across the little cell.

Natasha squatted down beside the Soldier, waving a neutralizer in her nimble fingers to show what she was coming close with. "Look what they gave me, Bez." His eyes widened in shock, and she pressed it to where the magnetic pieces connected. The uncomfortable arm cuffs popped open, and the Soldier immediately sighed in relief, stretching his arms out in front of him. The panels on his metal arm shifted, the recalibration whirring. He twisted both of his wrists, bent his elbows a different way, his clenched fists tucked against his shoulders. He sighed again, upper body falling limp. He then pushed himself up, pulling a leg beneath him to get his weight on one knee. He twisted gracefully, moving to the other wall.

When he was no longer in motion, Natasha raised her hands and pulled the mask off. He looked up at her, a corner of his mouth quirked up. "Thanks, Natashka."

"No problem." She shifted, dropping down in the place he had previously been in. "Bez, this is Corporal Sam Wilson. He was in D.C. with us. Sam, this is Bez. Not his name, but I call him that because I don't want to call him 'Soldier' or 'omega.' It's degrading."

Sam inclined his head. "Hey, man. Why 'Bez?'"

"'Bezymyannyy' is Russian for 'nameless,'" he answered, smile gone. He kept his eyes on Natasha.

Sam shifted, uncomfortable in such a suffocating room. He opened his mouth, not wanting to breathe in through his nose.

"You smell like him," Bez murmured, breathing shallow and soft. He had his shoulders pressed to the wall, leaning far down so only his hips touched the floor. "You both do."

Sam canted his shoulders. Natasha looked between them. She turned to the Soldier, taking everything in - the scent of his heat wasn't just warm, it was all-encompassing. He was an omega who denied what his body tried to tell him it needed, but also an omega in distress. The grief and longing were deeply entwined with the scent of warm caramel and apples.

"Smell like who?" Natasha asked, testing the waters. But she very well knew who. The one alpha that made him sit up in interest, one that he didn't even know.

"Steve." Maybe he was humoring her by saying his name, or maybe he had to say it. Like he was admitting something to himself.

"How exactly do you know Steve?" Sam asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Not a challenge. Just getting comfortable. The easy set of his shoulders, the relaxation of his center of gravity, were his giveaway.

"I...I don't know," he whispered. He sounded lost, aimless. He got a terrified, far away look in his eyes, a sign that he was trying to remember something. It didn't always happen when Natasha was visiting, but when it did she let it run its course.

Sam was quiet, studying him. "Do you hear anything from him? In...memories, I suppose?"

Natasha frowned. But the Soldier shook his head, like he was fending off flies. "I don't - It changes. Slurs together. Back the hell off." He jerked his head, flicking hair away from his face. "You smell like pack."

Now that, she could answer. "We are. The Avengers are. We've made a support system, a family."

He inhaled deeply, his eyes glowing with frenzy. He whispered, letting his head fall back against the wall, "We lost ours. It was just the two of us."

She couldn't help it - her brows drew inward, in confusion. She glanced up at Sam, only to see him analyzing the Soldier, face set in stone and eyes sparking with worry and an underlayment of frustration.

The two Avengers left about an hour later. Natasha usually stayed for as long as she can, but Sam had been starting to get antsy. She put Bez's mask back on, relocked the restraints, and kissed the flushed apple of his cheek. Guards pestered her as they walked through the walls to the quinjet as they always did, but Natasha paid them no mind.

Sam took her by the elbow as soon as they were lifting off, exiting the hellhole they wouldn't push upon anybody. He demanded, voice low and giving away the anger that had been radiating off him for some time, "What the hell kind of game are you playing here?"

"Sam," she warned, before ripping herself out of his hold. She was fine with being touched - in fact, Sam was someone she was almost always comfortable with, beside Steve and Clint - but she did not appreciate the manner in which he had pulled her in. He immediately saw his mistake and backed off, not hesitating to lift his chin.

"I'm sorry. But you really have no idea who that is?" He paused, as if waiting for her to push the conversation on. When she didn't say a thing, he scoffed. "That's James Buchannan Barnes. Bucky Barnes. I grew up with his face in my textbooks. One of the most iconic omegas in modern America - of all time."

Alarm swept through Natasha. She knew the scent of distress was strong enough to slap the beta in the face. How could she not have known? What did she have to do now? Tell Bez - Barnes. James. Bucky. Tell Steve?

Oh, god. Steve.

"Steve's -?"

"Yeah. Steve's."

Well. Guess she now knew who had made the first bite, that was now buried under layers of abuse kept in the form of scars.

×××

"Tell me about Bucky."

Natasha had Steve stuck on the mat, sitting on the backs of his thighs. She had just performed a basic self defense maneuver and could now dislocate his knees if she wanted to. But the idea of it, the joy it brought her, soured when she felt him stiffen at the Soldier's name.

"Why now?"

"Just curious." She pushed herself up, walking around Steve's body to hold a hand down to him. He took it, but pulled sharply and slid his hips underneath him, his foot finding her hip and lifting her off the floor. He flipped her, and she fell on her back on the bright blue mat, the two remaining within inches of each other. He smelled overwhelmingly of sugary cinnamon and bitterly sweet honey, just like he always did.

"What about him?" Steve's voice was cautious, though the softness he saved for Bucky Barnes hadn't gone unnoticed. Never had. Get a few glasses of Thor's mead in him and Steve would wax poetic about how strong Bucky was, how beautiful he was, how much of an asshole he was. Tony got a kick out of it each and every time.

"Just...him."

Steve sighed, shaking his head. He raised his hands, grinding the heels just below his eyes. He let his hands fall, spread wide, and Natasha waited for him. When he asked, "Have you ever been in love, Nat?" his voice resonated with a wistful sorrow - like he longed for whatever the feeling he was asking her of.

She didn't move. Steve wouldn't be able to see her shaking her head. "I can't say I have."

"There's nothing like it in the world. Just having someone that understood me, it was amazing. We'd known each other since before we could remember, we went to school together, and things were easy because of that. We didn't have to talk about our childhoods, families, hobbies, because we already knew everything. Our families, Rogers and Barnes, that was our pack. We were pack. We lost them all, until we were the only two left. His sisters and brother were half our age or less. When their parents passed, Becca was sent to a finishing school for omegas, Dom and Ellie were sent to an orphanage in Jersey, and my ma was only able to take Buck under her custody. She had to buy him."

She had nothing to say to that. So she asked, to urge Steve on; "Weren't male omegas not able to be with male alphas?"

She could practically hear Steve wince. "Only his siblings knew, because of that. But we bonded, about a year and a half before my ma passed. The world doesn't get in the way of a bond. They're sacred, and a lot of people won't touch them."

This was a good segue, so she took advantage of it. "When did you feel it break?"

Silence followed. Natasha sat up, pivoting on her hip to look at her friend. He was staring up at the ceiling, palm pressed to the single, muted scar she knew to be on his neck. He looked like he was being torn apart from the inside and out, body tense and unforgiving. Pain was etched into the sad set of his mouth, the regret-filled fog in his eyes.

"When he was in Azzano," he finally murmured. Anger poured from him in jagged waves. Though she knew she was safe, something deep inside her was telling her to run, to get away while she still could. The only other thing that gave the anger away was the tense lines on his face, around his eyes and lips. He snarled, "Schmidt." He sat up, slow and swaying as if he were drunk. "Bucky didn't want it, so it was just temporary - but, he was in heat when Schmidt did it, so it lasted longer than a couple of weeks to a month or two. It lasted for more than six. Over six months of Schmidt pumping commands and artificial feelings into him through the bond. He..." he scoffed, wiping his hand over his face. "He couldn't come near me without feeling sick. It broke our hearts. He wanted comfort, he felt like he didn't own himself, and he wanted to feel safe. But he couldn't do that."

Natasha had her own experiences with temporary bonds. Hers had never lasted more than three weeks. She couldn't even imagine having one for over six months. And that must've been what most of his bites were. Repeats of the same people, preying on his quick cycle to get even more control over him.

His body had been under so much stress. She wasn't sure how Bucky Barnes was still alive.

×××

The routine went on for two years, before the Winter Soldier's cuffs were unlocked for more than a couple hours and he was let out of his cell. He was put on a sleek jet with a man dressed in civilian clothes; jeans, hoodie over a charity shirt, sneakers. Barnes didn't speak to him, though the beta tried - especially after he caught the undeniable fog of heat.

"You're scary, you know."

Barnes - because he wasn't Bucky, hadn't been since Zola got his hands on him - scoffed.

He said, no hand held out or arms outstretched for a hug, "Clint Barton. Hawkeye. Nat and I are good friends."

If it regarded Natasha, he had to reply. Curse her. "You recruited her. Saved her life."

Clint shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah, what else could I do?"

Barnes decided he'd trust this guy. "Bucky Barnes."

The smile peeled from the blonde's face, and he nodded sourly. "I've been told. Really sucks what the Raft did to you." He paused. The what HYDRA did to you was left unspoken.

"Is what it is." He backed himself up into one of the benches, and sat down. It felt good to not be so blatantly watched, though he knew it was happening.

"Oh! I have something for you. Natasha sends her love, she'll be waiting for us at HQ. Or, once she gets done with her mission." Clint dug into the bag at his feet, and pulled out a thin, plastic wrapped rectangle. He tossed the packet at him, then pulled out a water bottle and rolled it across the floor.

Barnes read the label as he bent down to pick up the bottle. It was an ordinary medication label, but the name on it was his. Something was his for the first time in so long. And what he was given, he'd wanted - needed - them for years.

He turned his eyes up to Clint. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It's unconstitutional that they wouldn't give them to you, especially since your cycle is sped up. You don't have the normal twice a year."

"Right." He pressed his thighs together and ripped open the package of heat suppressants. He skimmed the days, some of the instructions, before he pushed his thumb into the plastic side. One of the pink pills broke through the foil backing, falling into his lap. As he picked it up, he confirmed, "Yeah, every two months."

Clint pulled a plastic bag from his duffel, and chucked that across the space at Barnes, too, once the water bottle was pulled from his lips and the pill had been swallowed. Barnes capped the bottle and pulled the bag open. He was confused to only find protein bars in ziploc baggies.

"They're made for a supersoldier. Withstand the high metabolism. Also, they're chocolate. And I have clothes in here, whenever you want them. Nat picked them a while ago, said you'd be comfortable, so I'm trusting her judgement and hope it's right."

Barnes scoffed, amused. "Hit me." He caught the next bag before it could collide with his face.

×××

"Five years ago, I had a heart attack." Secretary Ross paced in front of the screen in the conference room, body pulled tight. Shoulders squared, movements limited. Natasha had a very bad feeling about the Secretary being in HQ. "I dropped right in the middle of my back-swing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after thirteen hours of surgery and a triple bypass...I found something forty years in the Army had never taught me: perspective. The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives...but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word 'vigilantes.'"

She already knew where this was going. Fantastic. "And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?"

He whipped his head toward her. "How about 'dangerous'? What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?" He twisted, remote from the table in hand, and turned on the screen behind him.

"New York."

Footage of the chitauri flooded the screen. Mobs of people screamed. She remembered how terrified she was, everyone was. Aliens, gods? They were real. The world had a wake-up call, a reality check. In the footage, the Hulk slammed into a building, bringing up a shower of concrete dust.

But they participated in cleanup. Tony funded construction. It wasn't their fault that the sky had opened up, but they tried to fix it the best they could.

"Washington DC."

The Insight carriers fired on each other. The Triskelion, the 41st and surrounding floors destroyed. A helicarrier fell into the Potomac, sending a wave toward the phone that was recording. Another camera zeroed in on Steve falling from his helicarrier, then the Winter Soldier following close behind.

"Sokovia."

Familiar screams filled their ears, and then they watched the footage they had refused to watch - the block of rock, the city, rising into the sky only to fall right back down.

"Lagos."

The building reduced to cinders. Paramedics flooded the walkways, going in and out of the building as they evacuated the area. The camera focused on the glassy eyes of a dead girl, white dust stuck in her dark lashes, like snow flurries.

Their regret of what took place in Nigeria was still fresh. Across the table, Wanda looked even more distraught, her eyes going wide with turmoil.

"Okay. That's enough." Steve's voice took a commanding edge. He was all Captain America now, just because there was an outsider in their midst. A government official, one who believed that they owned the Avengers as a unit and each being individually.

Despite Steve's underlying warning, Ross continued; "After DC, you left a dangerous weapon at the scene. We had no choice but to take the Winter Soldier, an omega, into custody." Immediately, the reels switched to Raft security footage. It was dated from the first week he had been imprisoned there, before Natasha had visited. He was in the cell with two guards, fighting for what could have been - believably - his life. He thrashed, kicked, punched, growling and snarling behind the muzzle. Even though the sounds were muffled, anyone could hear that the omega was making sounds that were alpha-worthy. One of the alphas reached for his collar, and Bucky bashed his metal fist into the side of his head - he crumpled to the floor, dead, and the other alpha ran. But he wasn't fast enough to evade attack, before Bucky grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him close, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and throat, metal hand clamping his chin.

Natasha closed her eyes just before a sickening snap filled the room. When she opened them, two alphas were laid out on the floor, the Winter Soldier standing above them like they were plots of land he had conquered.

Natasha couldn't bite back a retort - Ross was using the footage to make them feel guilty. Using Bucky to make them regret leaving the omega behind. Ross was fishing for a reaction, and she refused to give him the one he wanted - "You should have let him out over a year ago. At least for good behaviour."

His eyes widened, almost gleefully. "You think that," he pointed to a new image, of Bucky - mask on - with an alpha wrapped around him, a collar being clamped around his throat. The layers of scars were bared to the camera, "was brought on by good behaviour?"

"It's unconstitutional to deny an omega heat suppressants," Sam spoke up, from the other side of the table. "Especially one who goes into heat every two months."

"It's unconstitutional to imprison an omega, who has been subjected to more abuse than anyone here can wrap their heads around," she piled on. "You've seen his throat. Yet you put shock collars on him to cover the scars."

"One of your own guards bit him last year!" Sam practically snarled. Natasha remembered when they had learned - on a visit. They could smell the alpha on him. He couldn't talk, could barely stand to look at them. The commands were that strong.

Ross didn't comment on anything they said. Instead; "Captain Rogers, I think you'll find this interesting."

Another video started - Barnes, tugging desperately on his mask as a Raft guard held it in place, palm pressed to the vent. He thrashed, trying to get away, but the guard wouldn't let his head go.

"Don't move."

Barnes froze, tremors going through his body. The command, though recorded, sunk deep into Natasha's bones. Her programming was the only thing that kept her safe. Unfortunately, across the table, behind her back, Wanda and Tony both went rigid.

The alpha finally let Barnes go; he jerked to the side, pulling the mask off. He gasped for air, coughing and gagging. His face was clear in the frame, including the red that rimmed his eyes and the pained tears that brimmed in them. The alpha reached behind his ear. It wasn't common knowledge, but Natasha knew of the scent gland, the pressure point, that was there. When the alpha's fingers circled over it, Barnes jerked but immediately turned to goo, his eyes glazing over as he tipped his head to the side.

A low growl rose from Steve's very core, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Pheromones flooded the conference room, permeating everyone's senses. Natasha felt heat - not an omega's, no. An alpha's anger. Pure rage burned in Steve's blood. Ross himself, who had goaded this reaction, took an instinctive step back. He took a second to compose himself under Steve's bared teeth and feral glare. He finally said, coolly, "As of three hours ago, Agent Clint Barton flew to the prison, and is on his way back with Sergeant Barnes."

The growl tapered off, silent shock momentarily replacing the beacon of fury. Steve whispered, "He's coming here?" before Ross could move on. He sounded broken and bare - he wasn't hiding anything. He was an alpha who had cherished his mate, and had suffered through a broken bond. And now that mate was back.

"Yes. Only because he falls under today's requirements."

"You're putting us in the same room as a broken omega?" Rhodey questioned, voice level. Steve glared at him. "What are we supposed to expect?"

"Don't threaten him and he won't threaten you. He is innocent," she cut in, before Steve could - maybe literally - bite his head off. "He's nonviolent unless he is provoked. Much like some of us."

"For the past four years," Ross began loudly, to gather their attention and move on, "you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution; The Sokovia Accords."

×××

The two men were mostly silent on the jet ride to Upstate New York, only sharing small talk because that was the only thing Barnes would let climb his mental walls. Clint Barton was very kind and he made Barnes smile, but he didn't know him. He wouldn't tell him things he would tell Natasha.

The ride lasted about three-four hours, it had only been that long when Clint got up to land the jet. With the beta turned away, Barnes finally let out a relieved sigh. He was out. He wasn't going back, not without a fight. He would remind them of what he was if he had to.

The platform lowered. Gradually, Natasha was revealed, standing at the edge of the helipad, arms crossed over her chest. The corner of her mouth twitched up when she saw him, safe and sound.

Barnes started out of the jet, only stopping once he was standing in front of her. He postured himself, showing off. As he had been working on, he told her, "I like it."

She smiled wider. "I'm glad."

He often ran cold, and she knew that, so the two jackets would have been the right choice if he hadn't been on the edge of heat. An insulated black leather jacket, a grey T-shirt poking out underneath. He knotted the dark blue denim jacket around his waist. The black jeans held on to his form, leading down to be tucked into his old combat boots, which he had never let the guards at the Raft take. He was comfortable, besides the shock collar around his throat and the heat that was still coming down. It was a good feeling to have.

"What was I brought here for?"

"The government has pulled together every enhanced being that isn't under S.H.I.E.LD., or any enhanced being that has worked with the Avengers. You, unfortunately, qualify." She explained quickly, only looking away from him at the end, to see if Clint was coming or not.

The beta came up behind him, but gave him room. He had the small duffel bag over his shoulder, and he nodded grimly to the two ex-Soviets. "Let's get this over with."

The three started into the modern white HQ building. Barnes followed them, not sure of where he was going. The feeling of being lost was something he didn't like, but he trusted Natasha to help him through it. He even trusted Clint.

He was brought to a common room. Seating was available around a large white coffee table. A gigantic, accessible kitchen lined one wall. It was a nice space, aesthetically, no matter how mute it may be. The layout wouldn't serve any good in a fight. No cover.

Barnes immediately recognized Sam Wilson. He also knew Tony Stark, who had the ghost of his father following him around. Wanda Maximoff smiled and waved at him, which, as well as Bucky walking into the room, caught the attention of Steve.

Steve.

The broken look in his eyes, the wave of distress and depression, took Bucky back in time. All of a sudden he was in Azzano, holding on to a body that shouldn't have been Steve's but it was, the weeks old bite on his throat exposed.

Being mated to Schmidt hadn't been ideal. He'd gone into heat in the cell, in front of his men. Dugan and Gabe had tried to protect him, but there was nothing they could have done. HYDRA took him away in his sleep. He'd woken up with arms hooked under his pits, Dugan and Falsworth grappling at his torn pants through the bars of the cage; Zola took everything that made him Bucky Barnes, but Schmidt took everything that made him human.

It wasn't being with the Howling Commandos that was hard. It was, sickeningly, being away from Schmidt. The bond was temporary, but it had lasted months. Bucky went mad with the longing that was pouring through the bond, the alpha commands that sank deep into his bones. Steve being near disgusted him, sometimes all he wanted to do was shoot a bullet between his eyes -

Natasha's voice cut through the cloud; "Barnes. Breathe."

He inhaled sharply, taking a step back. He shook his head, jarringly, his tied-back hair swaying on the back of his head. The heat, though slowly diminishing, wasn't helping his clusterfuck of emotions. Clint stood beside him, trying to calm him with his scent of the family he undoubtedly had to get back to, Natasha just a step in front.

"Let's just get this done," Natasha insisted. Barnes liked her judgement. "Someone explain?"

Sam ducked in, and Barnes was thankful for him. "Apparently, the Avengers - people with enhancements, natural or artificial, are ruining the world. We do a lot of damage, I don't disagree with that. But we keep worse from happening, and I don't get why the government doesn't understand that."

Bucky didn't respond, just let his face morph into a dark glare. What did the government want them to do, let Project Insight engage? Everyone in the room would be dead. Then what would they do? Cry in a ditch while aliens are flying through a hole in the sky?

"Robocop? Lost your voice?" Tony Stark was looking at him, like he was putting him through a test. Barnes didn't appreciate it, a low growl rising from deep in his chest in reply. The other omega just rolled his eyes at the clear posture. "Yeah, I get it. I didn't want to talk much after I got out, either. And I'm a jerk, so I doubt you'd want to talk to me." Barnes didn't agree or disagree. He stayed silent. Stark suddenly grinned and pointed at him. "I like him. He's mine, I'm calling dibs," Barnes still didn't bother replying, no longer feeling threatened by the other omega. Miffed, a little upset, sure. But he could tell that his safety wasn't on the line. Stark had said he had been captive, too. He now had two omegas on his side that understood. "You want a new arm?"

Barnes narrowed his eyes as Sam directed the billionaire with a simple; "Tony. Focus."

"Well, what do you think, Big Bird?" Stark turned on him, faking at ease. Steve visibly rolled his eyes, finally looking away from Bucky, leaning forward and taking the shiny white book off the coffee table. He cracked it open and began to read.

Sam turned to him. "I think this is stupid and a waste of time."

"Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have," the other man standing behind Steve's chair stated. Barnes's mind supplied him the name. Colonel James Rhodes.

"So let's say we agree to this thing," Sam postulated. "How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?"

Rhodes leaned in closer. "A hundred and seventeen countries want to sign this. A hundred and seventeen, Sam, and you're just like, 'No, that's cool. We got it.'"

"How long are you going to play both sides?" Sam shot back.

"I have an equation."

He turned his body, looking fed up. "Oh, this will clear it up."

The red and grey android continued; "In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate."

"Are you saying it's our fault?" Steve asked, voice ever-levelled and controlled. It wasn't Steve, not really - it was Captain America. Bucky knew the difference, he had the second he heard Steve begin to organize his men outside of the burning wreckage that had once been a labor camp.

"I'm saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict breeds catastrophe. Oversight...oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."

Rhodes turned back to Sam, goading him with a final, "Boom."

"Tony." The billionaire moved his hand from over his face, craning his head up to look at Nat as she spoke. "You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal."

Steve interjected, voice flat all but for the hint of sardinia, "It's because he's already made up his mind."

"Boy, you know me so well." He quickly sat up and winced. As he moved toward the unreasonably sleek-looking kitchen, he ground his fingers against the back of his head. "Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache." He took a mug from the cupboard, turning back around to face the group. "That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort. Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?" He put a small metal rectangle - his phone - into a wicker basket on the counter. The phone acted as a projector, giving off the image of a young, smiling boy. Stark turned away, then back again, and looked at the projection as if he hadn't put it there just a few seconds before. "Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, three-point-six GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where - Sokovia."

The room immediately took an even darker mood. Guilt poured from everyone - Barnes knew vaguely what had happened. Nat came to his cell, beat to hell. She sat down beside him and cried. Gave him a couple newspapers, sat as close to him as she could as he read.

"He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass." He popped a pill into his mouth, downed it with a gulp of coffee. "There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys."

"Tony." Steve got his attention, doing that thing with his voice that Barnes absolutely hated, where he was soft but firm at the same exact time. If he added a little bit of lust and heat to it, Barnes's hindbrain was gone for. "Someone dies on your watch, you don't give up."

To Barnes, that sentence felt a little pointed. His averted his gaze from the exchange, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Who said we're giving up?

"We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions." He held up the shiny white book, which must have been the printed Accords. "This document just shifts the blame."

Behind him, Rhodes looked even more irritated, if that was possible. "I'm sorry. Steve. That-that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about." He shook his head. "It's not the World Security Council. It's not S.H.I.E.L.D., it's not HYDRA."

Steve looked over his shoulder. "No," he agreed, "but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change."

"That's good," Stark insisted. "That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing."

"Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose!" Steve hefted the book again, tossing it back onto the coffee table. He sounded tired, scrambling for a hold, though he wasn't near done. "What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us...? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own."

"I agree with him," Barnes voiced, the pad of his thumb pressed to the center of his bottom lip. Immediately, at hearing him speak for the first time in that room - besides Clint and Nat - all eyes turned on him. He didn't let himself take the step back that he really wanted to. He stood his ground, kept his dark eyes on the coffee table. "If I hadn't been sent on my missions, no one would have died. And I can bet we've all been in a position where we felt we needed to do something but couldn't."

"Tony, I've lived this. The road shows, those weren't my choice. Sure, Azzano proved the army of my capabilities. But it was my decision to go behind enemy lines. I saved men that the government was going to leave to rot."

Stark exhaled sharply through his nose. "If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us. The video of Barnes in prison? That'll be us, sooner or later. That's the fact. That won't be pretty. I don't know about all of you, but I'm not getting my neck prodded again."

"There's not a good life out there, for any of us," Barnes gave into the scenario. "They gave you guys the option to be free if you wouldn't sign, right? To retire? Well, not all of us are going to get that. The government is always going to want to own their super soldiers, the individuals who are stronger because they're not normal." He shook his head. "They're not giving me a choice. This is to taunt me. They're just going to lock me up again, along with any of you that don't show up to sign them. Their definition of retire isn't a white picket fence, a normal life - it's confinement. This is a power play. Sign, or give up your life."

With a false aura of calmness, Wanda said, "You're saying they'll come for me."

"We would protect you," the android, Vision, instantly vowed.

Hesitantly, Nat said, "Maybe Tony's right." The billionaire whipped his head toward her, shock spilling from him. She expanded her viewpoint; "If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off -"

Sam interrupted, incredulously, "Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?"

She shook her head, not at what Sam had said but at what he was implying. "I'm just...I'm reading the terrain. We have made...some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back."

Stark exclaimed, "I'm sorry, did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?"

She rolled her widened eyes. "Oh, I want to take it back now."

Stark shook his finger at her. "No, no, no. You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed - I win!"

Barnes couldn't believe her. She had been owned for so long, and now she was thinking of signing over her rights. "Winning their trust back is showing them the good we can do. We don't do that by baring our throats!" At the slight rise in his voice, a sharp, familiar jolt of electricity ran through his body. The scent gland on his throat felt like it was on fire, surrounded by little pricks on the collar, and the stimulation made his knees give out beneath him.

"Bucky? Hey, Barnes, you're with me, you're with Nat, you're in Upstate New York. It was just a shock -"

"Get it off!" His outburst made another shock engage, the sharp points digging deeper into his skin. Why wasn't he being pinned? He was always pinned when he was being bitten. Was the alpha careless?

"Guys, there's blood!"

Hands came near his throat, and a hoarse shout escaped him as the teeth sank in completely, his gland bending to accommodate the pressure of the bite.

All of a sudden, the teeth tore from his throat. He gasped, jerking away from the people that had crowded him. He quickly slapped his flesh hand over the wound. Nat was standing with her back to the Avengers, arms spread, and Clint and Stark were close beside her. Rhodes had his fingers dug into Steve's shoulders, Sam had jumped into the alpha's lap to pin him. In front of Barnes crouched Wanda and the red-and-grey android with the yellow gem in his head.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant Barnes, for violating your boundaries. Your electric collar is off your person," Vision informed, opening his hand and letting the collar drop to the floor. Bucky's wide eyes followed it, dragged over the four bloody spikes that were slowly withdrawing back into their hidden spots.

"They replaced the old one two weeks ago," he muttered, voice scratchy.

Clint broke away from the group, stampeding into the kitchen. He tore the roll of paper towels off the bar on the wall, tugging a stack off of it as he hurried back. He pulled the bundle off the roll and handed it down to him.

"That's practically bond torture," Tony insisted. "Ross can get sued for that -"

"It's not a real bond, Tones," Rhodes reminded him.

"Look at his neck!"

Barnes immediately put the paper towels on his already-healing throat, holding them in place with his hand, effectively covering the scars. Nat lowered herself down into a squat, turning and planting herself on the floor beside him. Softly, she explained; "I have a lot of work to do. You know that. Better than anyone."

Stuck silent, he gave her a light nod. He wouldn't hide how disappointed he was. She didn't deserved to be lied to, after everything she'd done for him. He was happy that she was doing what she wanted, but he had always enjoyed her company.

The room silenced at an obnoxious buzz. Steve wrestled his phone from his pocket, checking the notification - his face immediately fell.

"Steve?" Clint asked.

He inhaled sharply, his eyes suddenly glassy. "Buck. Do you remember Peggy?"

He nodded his head again, and applied more pressure to his throat with the heel of his hand. He could already feel the wound beginning to close, the lack of venom not affecting his enhanced cell growth.

He stood up from his chair, clearly intent on leaving as quick as he could. "Come on."

Knowing that Steve wasn't a threat, he pushed himself back up to his feet - held a hand down to Nat, but she shook her head - and followed him out the side door after tucking the bloody paper towels into a small trash bin. It turned out to be a stairwell, and Steve immediately rushed down three flights, and Bucky followed a little slower. His brain lightened at the heavy, depressing scent of grief, causing his thoughts to swim and his old instincts to rise. Steve was upset. He had to do something, anything.

He had stopped at the final stair on the third flight, leaning the small of his back against the raling. Bucky leaned his hip into the railing, standing a step above him. He placed his hands on either side of Steve's neck to maneuver him, turned Steve to face him, and guided his nose into the junction of his shoulder on the unwounded side of his throat.

"Buck, what're you -?" he started to ask, voice thick. He was shaking like a weak leaf in Bucky's arms, like he would when it was cold in their old apartment.

"It'll make you feel better. Just breathe."

Steve paused for a few moments, then turned his head up, nuzzling along the curve of his jaw. He murmured, "Too close to the blood," and pulled back.

Despite himself, a warm feeling made his heart melt, and a smile tugging at his lips. Being so close to someone he always knew he was safe with was getting to his head. He was practically drowning in the alpha pheromones, and the undeniable instinct to make him feel better. His hindbrain took Steve's statement as not wanting to see him hurt, even though he knew logically that Steve was valuing his own discomfort. The blood disgusted him, because Bucky himself was disgusting.

At the scent of his conflict - between his memories of Steve and what he had been conditioned to believe - Steve frowned, wound his hands in the front of Bucky's shirt and pulled him closer. With an aching crack in his voice, he expressed, "I didn't know you were alive."

The tremors in his voice, the overwhelming air of guilt and heartbreak surrounding him, made Bucky's head fill with fog and his stomach tighten. Their faces were so close, Bucky looking down at the man who was once his alpha, Steve looking up at the ruin of his omega. Their foreheads were almost pressed, all Bucky had to do was tilt his chin forward and their noses would brush. He pushed a strand of blond hair off Steve's forehead, and reminded him, "You couldn't have known. And what could you have done? You were presumed dead, Steve. You couldn't have been there, anyways."

"I should have known - I got close enough to you in DC, I smelled you, and I convinced myself it was just similar and to not go all Alpha about it." His eyes flicked down to the bloody side of his throat, and he said, raw but careful, "The Raft didn't treat you like they should've."

Bucky's fingers tightened in the back of Steve's soft hair. He forced himself to not think about the guard that had bitten him while he had been taken over by a burst of exhaustion during one of his heats, and said, "Natasha and Sam helped make everything better. They...They couldn't get me out, but they proved that they have my back." He forced his hands to relax, and ran his fingers through his hair. He confessed, softly, "I hope I have you, too."

"You'll always have me, Buck," he breathed. He tilted his head up, sliding their noses together and pressing their foreheads. So close to a kiss, but terrified to cross the line after all the time that had passed.

Bucky vaguely remembered the last time he had kissed Steve Rogers. It had been one of comfort, before they had set off to take Arnim Zola captive. Steve had grabbed him by the hip and tugged him in as close as he could, bent him back over his arm with the force of the kiss. Their men had hooted and laughed, and they broke away from each other with smiles on their lips.

But even though he remembered now, Bucky wasn't strong enough to let himself want. He couldn't want an alpha, not after everything that had happened to him, when the thought of Steve remating him made him want to cower in fear.

He leaned back slightly, forcing himself to put the closeness behind them. Nothing good would come from being close to an alpha.

×××

Three days later, Barnes found himself in a pew of a beautiful church in London, squished in between Steve and the edge. The shards of red and blue stained glass came to life when the light struck them, making the portraits of Jesus glow in the holiest way.

He remembered how disgusted the Bible made him feel, once upon a time. Even though a church was supposed to be holy ground, he just saw it as a beautiful building. Because that's all it was.

"Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of SHIELD," the woman onstage - Sharon, he recognized her from the beginning of his time at the Raft - smiled, sad and closed-lipped, "but I just knew her as Aunt Peggy...She had a photograph in her office. Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I never told anyone we were related.I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman or an omega succeed at either. And she said to compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move...it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in they eye and say, 'No, you move.'"

×××

"Hey, you wanna see something cool?" Steve glanced away from the security screens as Tony walked into the little glass-walled office. He was dressed to the nines, having been at the UN conference. With his enhanced senses, Steve could just barely detect the chemical scent blocker on his neck and wrists. Jacket strewn over his arm, Tony held up a rectangular, shiny black box. "I pulled something from Dad's archives." Steve moved away, pulling out a chair for himself. Tony said, under his breath as Steve sat down, "Felt timely."

Still standing, Tony set the now open leather box between them. Two twin fountain pens sat inside. A trickle of dread ran down his back, snaking around his spine.

"FDR signed the Lend-Lease bill with these in 1941...Provided support to the Allies when they needed it most."

Steve countered, "Some would say it brought our country closer to war." He raised his head. If he took a pen, he was saying he would sign. He'd never. He wouldn't hand over what remained of his rights to a government that owned the rest of them. He wouldn't sign himself over to a government that hurt his mate, didn't even tell him he was alive. There were too many flaws in the system, and Steve wanted nothing to do with it.

A little frustratedly, Tony went on; "See? If not for these," he tossed his suit jacket over the back of a chair, "you wouldn't be here. I'm trying to...What do you call it?" He sat down, heavily, in the chair. "That's an olive branch." He set his arm on the tabletop, casually. "Is that what you call it?"

Steve tore his eyes away. To change the subject, he asked, "Is Pepper here? I didn't see her."

The omega withered. "We're...kinda..." he struggled for words. "Well, not kinda -"

He looked Tony up and down, calculatingly. "Pregnant?"

Tony blanched, and was suddenly able to speak - good. Steve got him out of the nervous loop. He said, shaking his head, "No. Definitely not. We're taking a break." He quickly added, "It's nobody's fault."

A wad of guilt settled in his stomach. But this, versus the Accords? He was able to talk about this, if Tony wanted. "I'm so sorry, Tony. I didn't know."

"A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA...and then Ultron." He spread his hands. "My fault. And then, and then, and then, I never stopped." Shaking his head, he confessed, "Because the truth is I don't wanna stop. I don't wanna lose her. I thought maybe the Accords could split the difference." He rolled his eyes away from Steve's, getting up out of his chair. We paced over to where Steve had been before, looking out from behind the glass at the security footage. "In her defense, I'm a handful." He turned around, quickly.

Steve knew they were going in circles, beginning something important then backing out because they were too hard to speak off. He tried to do something to stop the cycle, because Tony came in the office for a reason. He said, truthfully, "I don't mean to make things difficult."

"Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth," he admitted. He turned away from the glass, pacing behind Steve. "But I don't wanna see you gone." He took another seat, diagonal from where he had been. "We need you, Cap. So far, nothing's happened that can't be undone, if you sign. We can make the last twenty four hours legit. Barnes can get transferred to an American psych-center instead of a Wakandan prison."

"A psych ward would be just as much a prison to him. He would still be contained, that's all he'll know." As much as it saddened him, he knew that was going to be something close to the truth.

Tony frowned, pressing his hand over his mouth as he thought. After what felt like almost a minute ot silence, he pulled his hand away and inhaled sharply. "I can't imagine the pain he's been through. And I thought my time was bad. Heats every two months, alphas constantly breathing down his neck...being bonded over and over again for seventy years...One of those things alone is excruciatingly painful. But all together?" He shook his head, as if to untangle his thoughts. "I can't believe he's still alive and functioning."

Steve huffed, leaning farther back into the chair. "I hate thinking about it. Three days ago, I didn't even know he was alive. He's been through hell, and no one had any clue. He won't let me near him, unless he's trying to calm me down...He won't look at me unless he has to." Not since the almost-kiss in the stairwell, when Steve had been sickened by the undeniable fear that had flicked in Bucky's eyes before he had moved away.

"If his throat says anything, it's going to take a lot of time. He's always expecting an attack, Cap. It took Natasha months to get him to fully warm up to her. She had to push his buttons, and he growled at her half the time."

"How do you know that?"

"After some time, she came to talk to me about him. As another omega, and a person who has been held against their will." He tapped the table with his fingertips, inhaling deeply. "Look, Barnes got dealt a bad hand. And that's no ones fault but the people who did that shit to him. Underneath all the pain, your mate is still there. I know he is." Tony paused, hesitating for once in his life. Gesturing up toward the side of his jaw, he asked, "You know the ear thing, don't you?"

Steve nodded as he slid his hands through his hair. He looked a little apologetic, remorseful. "It's...It really isn't what you may be thinking. It blissed him out so he could sleep. It was stimulation during his heat, since I - you know."

Tony did know. Steve knew that. Most people did, or just ignored it entirely because they didn't want to think about it. As weak and sickly as he had been, his knot was something he was scared of. Not many alphas felt that way about that part of themselves, what gave them their high status in hierarchy, but Steve had been. He could have died, leaving Bucky all alone with a dimmed scar on his throat. He never wanted that to happen. It made heats difficult, but Steve did what he could. Rubbed the scent gland behind his ear as he told Bucky how good he was, how much he loved him...sometimes that would have been all he had to do and Bucky would unravel entirely into their mattress.

"It's not that common anymore," Tony reminded him. Steve sighed inwardly. He had heard that so much, coming into the new century. "It's improper for an alpha to do that in public. It's used as intimacy, an intense show of trust. Or, more often, dominance."

Steve frowned. He could definitely see that. The footage of the Raft alpha touching Bucky flooded his mind's eye, and he was washed through with anger all over again.

Tony slid his fingertips over the smooth tabletop. "It shoves humanity into the dog house. You either do everything you're told, or you simply can't comprehend what is being said." He leaned back again, pressing his weight into the weak joint of the chair. "If Barnes does...if he is ever comfortable with being your mate again, I don't think you should continue that. After what he's been through...that trick must've gotten old. It's dirty, it's unfair, but it is what it is. I've never let Pepper do it. Brings too much back." He shrugged, visibly waving off his vulnerability. "She never said a word."

He frowned as he thought. If Bucky wanted to restart his life, he was definitely going to need help. Mentally, physically. The thought of him taking on a support alpha made an instinctive fire burn through him, but if that was what he wanted then Steve wouldn't - couldn't - stand in his way. He pulled one of the pens from the case. He stood up and paced the small room, feeling nervous as he came closer to what he knew Tony wanted. If he signed, Bucky could get everything he needed. Steve wanted to do good by him. He hadn't for so long. He had no right to make choices for him, he knew that. People could only make decisions for themselves, and he'd always believed that. He could start to outline a rough plan. Bucky would choose if he wanted it or not. "I'm not saying it's impossible, but there would have to be safeguards. He has to feel safe, if he wants this."

Tony nodded in understanding. "Sure. Once we put out the PR fire, those documents can be amended. I'd file a motion to have you and Wanda reinstated -"

He spun around, fingers tightening around the shell of the pen. "Wanda? What about Wanda?"

"She's fine," he assured. "She's confined to the compound, currently. Vision's keeping her company."

He exclaimed, "Oh God, Tony! Every time. Every time I think you see things the right way -"

"What? It's a hundred acres with a lap pool. It's got a screening room. There's worse ways to protect people -"

"Protection? Is that how you see this? This is protection? It's internment, Tony."

"She's not a US citizen -!"

"She spent years as a prisoner -!"

"- and they don't grant visas to weapons of mass destruction -!"

He couldn't believe him. Humans were not weapons. "She's a kid!"

He shouted over Steve; "Give me a break..! I'm doing what has to be done...to stave off something worse."

He nodded, almost mockingly. "You keep telling yourself that." He held up the pen before pushing it back into its holder in the case. "Hate to break up the set."

×××

"Hey, Cap!"

Sam's shout jarred Barnes as he came to, a series of hot pulses going through the very back of his head. He tried to sit up, but found that his body wouldn't budge. He turned his eyes toward his left side, where his metal arm was pressed in a metal vice. His throat throbbed, his body trembled.

What happened?

Where am I?

The last thing he remembered was the intruder walking toward his holding cell, reading the Soldier's trigger words. Before that, Barnes had been thinking that the whole thing was ridiculous - why the hell, and how the hell, would he bomb the UN? The second he saw the news coverage, in that coffee shop with Steve and Sam, he didn't think. He just ran. No idea where, he just had to get away.

He couldn't depend on someone else. That stage in his life had long passed.

He reminded himself that Sam was there, and that Cap was Steve. He was safe. Away from whatever the hell the not-psychiatrist had planned on doing.

"Steve," he murmured, the sounds in the name slurring together. When he turned his eyes up, the light overwhelmed his retinas and he blinked repeatedly. The light seemed to wake him up, make him aware of himself and his surroundings. Drops of moisture ran down his temples. His stomach churned with pain and longing. When the scent of a pine forest met his nose, his insides rejected it, a nausea settling deep within him and the throb of his throat turning into a searing pain. With that, everything clicked into place. "Oh."

"Buck, everything's gonna be okay. Just remember that it's temporary -"

Steve's voice made him cringe.

He was in heat and his body wanted the alpha that had bonded him, even if it was just temporary.

Exasperated, because one part part of him was tired and another was desperate for something he didn't want; "No, Steve, you don't get it -"

Sam's gentle voice surrounded them, as well as the calming beta pheromones that Barnes knew well from when he would visit in the Raft prison; "Steve, I'm gonna need you to let it go -"

"How can I let it go?" he snapped, in a tone of voice that made Bucky want to back away and fine somewhere  sheltered and safe. "A random alpha off the street bonded my omega -!"

"No!" he shouted, sharp and clipped, making the alpha and beta both jerk back in surprise. "I'm a lot of things, Steve, but 'your omega' is not one of them. Seventy years changes a lot of things. You no longer have an omega, I've been passed around to who knows how many alphas. It's poetic cinema or some shit."

"Buck, I thought -"

"Yeah, that I was dead, I know. Did it break your soul?" When silence met him, he pressed on. "Every time I get bonded, they push what they want through it. I have no choice but to follow orders. Sometimes, if I'm myself, I can fight it. Schmidt wanted me to put a bullet between your eyes and I didn't. The only thing that kept me from killing you was how much I was in love with you." He shook his head, shrugging the one shoulder that was free because he had to move. He couldn't stay in one place, and he wasn't yet to the point of begging to be released. "When Zola told me you were dead, I knew I had nothing to go back to. Even then, there was no way I was getting myself out of there. The only thing I had was my stubborness and my own sanity. Took them twenty years to fully break my head open and make me into exactly what Hydra needed - a gun. Guns don't speak, they don't have minds, so they were able to use me for other things, too." Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Barnes cut him off; "This bite," he jabbed a knuckle at the fresh scar, "pushed me back into heat. You've never been on the receiving end of being an omega, thank god. You don't get it. You don't get to call me your omega. I know you don't mean anything bad by it, but - I'm my own person. I'm not just somebody's thing."

When the alpha spoke again it was with his public speaking voice, only dripping with anger spurred on by protectiveness. "Who was he?"

"No, man, we're not doing this -" Sam tried.

"I don't know." That made it worse. It was no better than the faceless Hydra goons that would come up from behind. He suddenly felt trapped, a monster trying to scratch it's way out of his stomach, and tried to tug his arm out of the vice he was confined to. When it didn't budge, a pitiful whine rose from his throat, and he leaned his forehead against the contraption as he attempted to control the tears building in his eyes. Fuck hormones.

"People are dead," Steve told him. Maybe as an incentive. "The bombing, the setup - the doctor did all that just to get ten minutes with you -"

He rolled his eyes, looking back up. "He's not a fucking doctor, Steve."

"- I need you to do better than 'I don't know.'"

"I don't know. I've never seen his face, I don't remember him." He shook his head, and leaned his temple back against the side of the vice. "He wanted to know about Siberia - where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where." He jerked away from the contraption, and hissed when the junction of his shoulder and arm started to sting. "Can someone let me out of this?"

"Yeah, on it, man." Sam was quick to walk up to the other side of the vice, which Bucky couldn't see. The pressing top of the vice raised, and Barnes was able to slip his arm out. He immediately jumped off the crate he had been seated on, his legs shaky and the heat making him lightheaded. He stumbled a few steps before he regained his footing, swearing under his breath. When he was  sure of what he was doing, he turned and locked his emgaze with Steve's.

There was a pregnant silence as they just stared at each other, words that they should or shouldn't say hanging between them. Barnes could tell that there was so much Steve wanted to say or do, but either was scared to or had doubts about. And he didn't blame him. This was uncharted territory for the two of them.

Barnes finally spoke; "He said he wanted to see an empire fall. He wanted to know about Siberia. He knows that I'm not the only Winter Soldier."

×××

The lights flickered on, and it seemed like Barnes was back in his nightmares.

The chair loomed in front of him, dark and mysterious in it's own right. He passed it with a wide clearance, pacing toward the six cylindrical capsules. One was dark, the siding raised up to reveal that it was empty.

It hadn't been inhabited since the mid nineties, when the Soldier was permanently transferred to the American holding division. Alexander Pierce claimed he knew exactly what to do with the Asset, instead of sticking him into a cryo tube for five or more years at a time.

A lot of it had included kneeling under his desk. Sometimes, he was convinced that his knees still ached, and forever would.

Barnes stopped in front of one specific capsule, where the ghoulish, frozen face of Josef  appeared between the parted, crystalized fog. The only different thing about him was the bloody hole in the middle of his forehead.

A surrounding speaker screeched, before clear words carried through; "If it's any comfort, they died in their sleep...Did you really think I wanted more of you?"

What the hell?

"I'm grateful to them, though. They brought you here." A new light turned on in his peripheral, and Barnes's  eyes found the 'psychiatrist' - Helmut Zemo, according to Tony Stark - in the control room. Steve, also seeing this, immediately flung his shield toward the clear separation panel. The shield bounced off the window, coming right back to his hand like a loyal dog. "Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.

Barnes averted his eyes, and happened to lock them back on Josef. His eyes were frosted over, he noticed.

Stark turned away from the cryo chambers and claimed, "I'm betting I could beat that!"

The alpha gave a light chuckle. "Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you'd never know why you came."

"You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?" Steve demanded. Barnes turned his eyes away from the tube to find the two alphas practically nose to nose, with only the glass keeping them apart.

Zemo confessed, "I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you're standing here, I just realized...there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw.

"You're Sokovian. Is that what this is about? Getting revenge? Because I think you know very well whose omega you bonded."

Barnes didn't say a word in protest, because he knew what Steve was trying to do - posturing, intimidation, to let Zemo know that dangerous, motivated people were after him.

"Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell." He disproved, "No. I'm here because I made a promise. Bonding the Soldier was the means to an end."

Calculatingly; "You lost someone?"

"...I lost everyone. And so will you." A little television came to life, playing security footage from a road that Barnes knew too well. "An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumples from within? That's dead...Forever."

×××

"I'm going away for a little while," Barnes revealed, looking up slightly, into Steve's eyes. He wasn't sure exactly how he would respond to this, besides clearly being upset, and he found himself putting on the timid act that had practically been engrained into him in finishing school when he was a pup.

He smelled the low aroma of frustration that came off of Steve, and was surprised when he sighed and nodded, lips pressed into a firm line. He ducked his head and said, "Whatever you need, Buck."

"There's a friend I haven't seen in too long," he went on, his nerves causing him to ramble. That couldn't be it - Steve was obviously holding himself back, and Barnes wasn't sure what was happening. Alphas didn'thold themselves back, in his experience.

But Steve did.

"I have a lot of stuff I need to work through."

Steve raised his head again, suddenly looking a hint sympathetic instead of just plain saddened, with the way his eyes narrowed so softly and his lips curled. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. You know that. It's just..." He raked a quick hand through his hair, sighing to make his shoulders deflate. He let his hand fall back down to his side, hanging limp without a purpose. "I just got you back, and you're leaving again."

"This isn't the end." He mustered a small, gentle smile. "If I'm completely honest, you're always going to be my alpha. I don't trust anyone. I just can't jump back into...normal, yet. I can't just forget everything that happened to me, and I can't convince myself to trust you again." He slowly reached up, setting his fingertips against Steve's throat, over the scent gland and the old bite that he had left behind. A shiver ran down his alpha's spine, making his torso tremble, his throat quivering under his light touch. "I'll be back. I swear, I'm not leaving you again. Not like I have before. This is temporary. We have until the end of time."

Steve's hands fell to his waist, ghosts of the tight, unafraid hold it had once been. His words came out scattered by his nerves; "It's...Can I -? This may sound horrible, but I really wanna kiss you."

Bucky couldn't help but smile. "I think I can swing that."

×××

It took him ages to knock on the apartment door. He just remained standing beside it, shoulder to the wall, absolutely still.

Would things go as well as they did with Natalia? Would she take the same approach, wanting to help, wanting to do what she could? Or would she fight back, thinking the Winter Soldier was finally chasing her to the ends of the Earth?

This wasn't a great idea, don't think he didn't know that. But he wanted to see her. Curse him, but he felt responsible. He had to check in.

Finally, he stepped in front of the door. He raised his fist and rapped his knuckles against the wood - the door opened within seconds, a gun pointed between his eyes.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said, voice soft. He didn't move a muscle.

The other omega's eyes narrowed, confusion covering her previously blank features. With a heavy Russian accent, she demanded, "Why not?"

"My name is James Buchannan Barnes." Her eyes flashed with surprise that she didn't bother to hide. "I haven't been with Hydra since 2014. I was imprisoned for two years in a secure vessel in the middle of the ocean. They want to put me back. I won't go."

She lowered the gun, but kept it pointed at his calves. "Why are you here?"

"I'm hoping to heal. This is my one chance, before it's taken away all over again." He tilted his chin up, showing trust and willing vulnerability, baring the layers of scars and the days-old bite. "I was hoping you may be a friend."

She huffed, pulling her gun close and relaxing her body. "Did Nat send you?"

"Nat's been great. She helped me, when I was in the Raft. She's now an outlaw, along with a couple of friends. But I can't be with them." He shrugged. "It's complicated."

Yelena scoffed. "Yeah, tell me about complicated." She gestured with her chin, directing him inside as she stepped out of the way. "Come in. I have drinks, you tell me everything."

×××