Parcours

Tony sounds half asleep when he answers. Sam goes for it anyway. “How fast can you get to the Caspian Sea?” He can see Steve packing for him, getting their bags ready to go. 

“Like, now?”

“Yeah, like now. Our metallic friend just gave us a ring. I think we’re gonna need air support. Natalie confirms this.”

“Ah, Natalie, what a woman, what a traitor,” Tony muses. He’s back to business almost immediately. “Leaving now? It’ll take maybe 18 hours.”

“You wanna do this? I mean with everything and all?” Not very eloquent there, Samuel. 

“I said I wasn’t gonna welcome him with open arms and I’m still not convinced. But call it a whim, call it Natalie threatening me and Pepper’s good influence. Anyway, this seems like a problem I’m gonna have to agree to hash out when a 100 year old man isn’t giving a distress call from the Caspian Sea. I’ll take the jet, maybe bring a friend.” 

Sam’s mind goes holy shit. “I’ll pass that around. It’ll take us a good long while too. Probably radio silence, so just try not to make us shoot you down.”

Tony snorts. “As if you could. See ya soon, Birdbrain.” And hangs up without saying anything to Sam, who stands there for a couple seconds before he realizes that Tony’s just like that. 

“Good to go?” Steve’s got all the bags in hand.

“Good to go.”

Natasha sent them a map right after she hung up, and it’s the sketchiest goddamn thing Sam’s ever seen, and he’s seen some sketchy-ass terrain. They’re essentially gonna be offroading so that their trip takes 14 hours instead of 18. He glares at the jeep before he gets in. At least it’s got padded seats, which is better than he can say for some of the rides he’s taken. But still. It’s hot and fucking dry, and dear fucking lord it’s two soldiers in a car. 

But it does mean that maybe they’re gonna get eyes on Barnes, and that’s a victory that Steve needs. Sam too, because he wants Steve to stop falling apart when he stops looking directly at him. It’s like the world’s worst optical illusion. The man’s strong, Sam’s not denying that. He doesn’t think he’d still be here if this was his life. Steve’s gone through World War Fucking Two, what’s got to seem like time travel, aliens in his hometown, his government hunting him down, and now his best friend being an assassin that should have been dead in the aforementioned World War. 

Sam really does hope it’s not a trap. Natasha didn’t seem to think the chances of that were high. But if it turns out to be, at least they’ve called Iron Man in. And potentially War Machine, if Sam’s excited mind is to be trusted. That’d be so fucking cool, if it weren’t for the circumstances. 

He takes the first half of driving, and Steve conks out pretty much immediately. It’s what soldiers learn to do - sleep in any jostling vehicle because who knows when their next chance for it will be. Sam knows he’ll be like that too, when Steve takes over the wheel. They cross into Kazakhstan after not too long, and the border guard looks absolutely, utterly bored. Doesn’t even mention searching their vehicle, just glances at the passports he’s offered and waves them on through. He barely looks at either of them. Steve doesn’t even have to wake up. Borders are weird, Sam thinks. 

The terrain’s settled into its rocky, hilly bullshit, that Natasha had said it would. Their car, even if it was a particular color before, starts to get a coating that makes it blend in. Even on the big road, there’s dust, and Sam’s not excited for what their fucking dirt road is gonna look like. They switch drivers before then, so Sam doesn’t even notice when they exit the main road. Steve wakes him up before the drive’s over, though. 

“We’re still a little far out from the coordinates he gave us. We should probably leave the car here and proceed on foot. The dust clouds are pretty bad on these roads.”

Christ, he thought he gave up trekking through the desert long ago. But yeah, Steve’s absolutely right. He nods. 

“How far is far out?”

“Hour’s walk. I’m calculating it for you, not me.” Meaning Steve could do it in less. 

“Yeah, good plan. Been a while since I took a hike in full gear.”

They would have made it in the hour Steve calculated, but they’re about halfway there, according to Natasha’s map, when there’s a deep boom, smoke rising up above the hills moments later.

“Shit. Looks like he got busy without us,” Sam says. “Where the fuck would he have gotten that? Do you think those other bases just had fuckin’ C4 laying around?”

Steve shrugs. “Fuck if I know. He wasn’t even the demo guy when I knew him. But we need to move.”

So they make it in closer to 50 minutes, all told. Barnes really did a number on the base. It must have been subterranean, or at least partially, because there’s a big fucking crater in the earth and a whole lot of bodies already. Sam doesn’t see Barnes anywhere, but he can hear the crack of gunfire, which is probably as much of an announcement of his presence as they’re gonna get. 

“Just start shooting, I guess,” Steve says. “I’ll take the jeeps.”

“Yeah, we got our fucking pick of targets,” Sam replies, getting his own weapon ready. It’s true. There’s people fighting somewhere, but there’s also guys getting into the part of a motor pool that isn’t currently burning. It’s a madhouse and Sam wonders if this is Barnes using them again, like he did for his wound. It would make sense. 

His considerations don’t really matter once he starts shooting. Then it’s all about not dying.

He’s chosen his line of attack carefully, but he’s about to have his luck run out when he hears whirring in the sky. He doesn’t look up, but there’s a flash of light and some of the goons fall down and don’t get up. That’ll be Tony. Sam fires, and then looks up. There’s two figures in the sky, so he really did bring a friend. Thank god for that, because this place is like a fucking anthill. They just keep coming. It’s gonna show up on satellites, he’s pretty sure. With that plume of smoke? No way it’s not gonna get noticed. But hopefully it’ll all be done by then and they can figure it out from there.

With the extra help, they finish off the stragglers. Iron Man and War Machine, once they seem satisfied with their air support no longer being fully needed, go to check out the mangled remains of the bunker. Natasha goes with them. Sam’s got no fucking clue how she got here or when, but clearly, she found a way. That’s how spies are, he supposes. Sam and Steve regroup, and no one sees the Winter Soldier. Sam wonders if he’s still here. They look everywhere, Steve seeming a little desperate, but Bucky’s nowhere to be found. 

The, well, not the Avengers, regroup when no one else seems to be stirring inside the base. 

“Sam Wilson. I was pararescue,” Sam says as he shakes the man’s hand. “That’s how you say ‘I’m crazier than you’,” Steve whispers in the background. He can hear both Tony and Steve snicker. Sam is the better man and ignores them. 

James fucking Rhodes grins at him. “I guess I couldn’t expect anyone with a full brain to be running around with Steve Rogers.”

Sam grins right back. “Nice to meet you, sir.” 

“Nice to meet you too. Call me Rhodey. Tony won’t call me anything else, and I feel like this kind of situation doesn't need to be formal. We’re all friends here, anyway. Especially if we’re going to be spending another 18 hours in a jet together.”

Barnes chooses this exact moment to make himself known. He sort of just appears, like he’d always been there, walking slowly towards the group, his hands away from his body. 

Natasha’s been pointing a gun at him from the beginning. Sam and Rhodey turn, almost as one, Rhodey raising his repulsors, while Sam just waits. Tony’s in the suit and Steve looks like he wants to go run and hug the guy. Because of course.

Barnes stops, several meters away, close enough to be heard, but far, far out of reach. He’s still.

“What do you want?” It’s Natasha. They shared the plan with her, but they all thought Barnes would probably be the one speaking first, so that’s as good as anything. 

“I’m done,” Barnes says. The crowd relaxes a fraction, except for Natasha. “I request extraction.”

Sam’s not sure that’s enough.

“Do you know who you are?” The plan is sliding into place. She’s got this. 

“James,” he says. Sam wasn’t expecting that. “I call myself James. I was formerly designation: the Asset, the Winter Soldier. I was formerly Bucky. I remember things.” The speech isn’t quite smooth, but it’s not that dull whisper that Sam remembers from before. “I will submit to interrogation. I will submit to incarceration. I will submit to prosecution.” God, Sam thinks. He’s really doing it. 

James continues. “I will allow myself to be disarmed via EMP. I will submit to medical testing. I will submit to restraints.” This needs to stop. This is wrong in a whole different way. This is so goddamn wrong. He’s giving up. He’s assuming that they will use him like HYDRA did. 

“James,” he calls. This diverts the man’s attention. “We accept your terms.” They aren’t terms. This is unconditional surrender. He uses the same precise speech, though. They went over this. “We do not require your incarceration and we don’t want to interrogate you. We want you to be able to heal and to feel safe. We will attempt to help you regain your memories and to take care of you before we even consider opening you up to prosecution.”

James stares at him. It’s that same considering stare from the apartment, but this time there’s nothing coiled behind it. “I accept. If that is how you see fit to handle me.” Fuck, this isn’t right. They accounted for some of the wrong variables. He’s healed in some ways, but not in others. 

Natasha takes back over. “You can approach now. Hand over your weapons when you get to me.”

It would be almost comical, the amount of weapons James has on him, if Sam wasn’t sure of two things: that he could and would use them at a moment’s notice, and secondly that he’s sure that James is waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Can I hug you?” Steve asks, because of course he does. 

“Yes,” says James. There’s nothing behind his eyes. He’s not giving permission. He’s accepting what they dish out to him. This is very bad. He gave up all his agency when he surrendered. 

Steve doesn’t notice, stepping forward to wrap him in a hug, burying his face into James’s flesh shoulder. But Sam notices, and he thinks that Natasha does too. James hugs back, or at least returns the gesture lightly, probably to keep up whatever pretense he’s keeping up. Steve pulls back with a soft smile, and turns to Tony to figure out transport back to the US - Sam hears something about a jet. Rhodey strides over to deal with that as well, so Sam goes to find Natasha. James stands watching. 

“He thinks he’s a prisoner,” is the first thing he says to her. 

“He’s right,” she says. “Sort of. As soon as the government gets word of this, they’re going to drag him to trial.”

“He looks better. When he was at Steve’s old apartment, he wasn’t like this. I think he really does remember things. But,” Sam chews his lip, “I don’t think he’s all there. Did you see what happened when Steve hugged him?”

She nods. “It’s hard to escape the programming. It does seem like he’s come a long way, given your description of him, but you’re right. I saw it too. It was in the way he said ‘handle’ as well. I’m not a psychologist and I really - I came in from the cold kicking and screaming. It’s going to be difficult to help him.”

That’s sort of the bottom line, isn’t it, Sam thinks. How do you keep a super soldier from breaking? How do you keep two super soldiers from breaking? Because break Steve will, if they don’t consider him too. 

“They both need therapy. More than what I can give. I know I’m the only person any of you really trust to talk about trauma things, but I can’t take all of that on. I need rest. I’m too close to Steve to be really helpful, and I’m so fucking out of my depth with James. I’ll vet anyone you throw at me, but I can’t keep going like this. He hides it, but Steve’s not doing well at all.”

She considers him a moment before speaking. Her gaze and James’ both strip everything away. “I think we could make that work. Tony will probably be willing to bankroll it. I can help go through the psychologists with you. Because you’re right. It’ll have to be someone very special to deal with James.” She gives him one more of those piercing stares. “You’ve done a lot for Steve. He was worse before. It wasn’t my job to help him, so I didn’t. I probably should have,” she says. “But I also wanted to respect boundaries. SHIELD didn’t give him a lot.”

Sam shrugs. “It was probably also a matter of timing. And you were on the inside, so no offense, but why the fuck would he go to you?”

She shrugs. “None taken. It’s a fair point. When we get back, we should talk to Tony and then figure out how to talk to the pair of old men.” She reaches out to pat his shoulder, before turning to walk over to James. “Rest on the way back. You deserve it.”