Bucky POV
Fourteen years, two months, and seven days.
That's how long James Buchanan Barnes was incarcerated. It was supposed to be fifteen years, but he got off for good behavior- and getting in the good graces of Warden Rumlowe from giving him head every third Saturday hadn't hurt either. His lawyer came in three days before, and as soon as Bucky saw the look on her face, he knew what she was about to say. There had been one little catch, though.
“You committed forgery, larceny, and embezzlement, James. Unless you want to serve the full time, this is the only way I can get you out.”
“Alleged embezzlement. That was never proved. And what the fuck use is being free if I have a pig tied around my fuckin’ leg?”
In the end, though, he'd agreed to all of Carter’s terms, signed the paper, and 72 hours later he was standing outside of DC Federal Prison carrying a lunch bag full of magnets and wearing a suit that had fit him better 14 years and thirty pounds ago.
He looked at the address in his hand. He had to be there by 4 p.m. to check in with his parole officer. Parole. He wanted to laugh. It was going to make the plan a hell of a lot more difficult, that was for sure. Two years he was going to have to meet with some cop every day at 4 p.m. If he was thirty minutes late, a warrant would go out for his arrest.
It was 2:13 p.m., and he had just over an hour and forty-five minutes to set things in motion before he was as good as hogtied.
He'd sewn a fifty into the lining of his suit. He could tell that the security guards had missed it from the way his cuff crinkled. They'd confiscated his Swiss army knife, of course, but the thread he'd used was weak, and he ripped the seam with his teeth and pulled the bill out.
A brief walk to the end of the block told him the Radio Shack had closed, but there was an ATM next to the boarded up window. His accounts had all been liquidated and closed over a decade ago, but a quick flourish of one of his magnets rendered him with five dollars in dimes. He dialed an old number, one which he was relieved to hear was still in service.
After four rings, she picked up. “Romanov.”
“Nat.”
“Holy shit, you out already?”
“Almost. Listen, I need a ride, a phone, and an ID. I'll pay you back-”
“Don't even mention it. You at the jail? I'll be there in ten.”
The last thing he wanted to do was stand out, so while was waiting he used his fifty to buy new jeans, a t-shirt, a light jacket, and a baseball hat from a thrift store in a strip mall.
Nat pulled up at the moment he walked out of the store, and he popped his collar and stepped in.
“James.” She hugged him over the console. “It's good to see you.” She punctuated her statement with a gaze, lingering over his middle.
“You too. I see you aged like a wine, honey.”
She chuckled, putting the car in drive. “Thirty-five isn't that old, sweetheart.”
He nodded to the dash of her Tesla roadster. “You've done well.”
“We've come a long way since college.”
“What do you now, petty crime?” He wrinkled his nose, although he could never imagine Natasha doing something so boring.
“Espionage. I get by under the radar as long as I don't keep anything longer than I need to.” She winked. “Where are we headed?”
He gave her the address. “I have an appointment at four, so I have to hurry.”
“Sure. You got a ride to that?”
“Nat, I don't want to impose-”
“Nonsense. The car is yours. I was thinking silver isn't my colour, anyhow.”
“I don't have a license.”
“So don't get caught.”
They arrived a moment later, and she paused before shutting off the car, “Listen, James, I don't know what you're up to, and I don't want to know any more than must. But if you need a cat-”
“You'll be the first to know. Thank you, for everything.”
“Don't mention it. I owe you.” She left the driver's seat, and immediately hailed a cab.
At 4 p.m. exactly, Bucky walked into the iHop on the address. He greeted the hostess. “I'm looking for Rogers, party of two?”
The host nodded. “Right this way.” He lead him toward a corner booth, where an overweight and elderly man sat, wearing a police uniform. Bucky smirked. This would be easier than he thought.
Once reaching the booth, the host turned and gestured to his right, where a blond man about Bucky's age sat at a table alone, sipping black coffee.
He looked up as Bucky took his seat. He was handsome, strikingly so, and Bucky couldn't judge his height while he was sitting, but he could have easily been over 6’2”. He wore a simple black tee over cargo pants, and it was tight enough to reveal the contours of his thickly muscled arms, his strong pecs and narrow waist.
“Mr. Barnes, I'm glad you could join me.” He gestured to the steaming plate of French toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs before Bucky.
“It's afternoon.”
“It's never too late for breakfast.”
Bucky hadn't eaten since lunch, and he gratefully tucked in to delicious spread before him. “I didn't expect you to be so casually dressed, being on-duty.” Not to mention young. He'd thought they'd stick him with whatever underpaid parole officer they had lying around.
Rogers shrugged. “I'm ex special forces. Unless I have to wear fatigues, I'm not much for uniforms.” He took another sip of his coffee. Bucky went back to eating, but he noticed that Rogers kept looking at him. Determined to not take his eyes off me for a second, he assumed.
“So, this is how I figure it’s gonna go. I’ll give you my number, and you’ll hand me your phone. I’m going to install an app on it so that I can always see where you are. If I feel like you’ve gone to a sketchy place, I’ll text you, and you respond within ten minutes and convince me that you’re being a law-abiding citizen. We have a set meeting here, at 4 p.m. every day. If you’ve been extra good, maybe I’ll relax on the meetings and we can go to once a week, or even a month. But for now we stick to this. Copy?”
Bucky was already sweating. Ex special forces? What the fuck? Clearly this man was used to a position of authority, and used to everyone obeying that. Well, that wasn’t gonna wash with Bucky.
“Uh, yeah, might have a bit of a problem with that.” Rogers paused, and Bucky rushed to clarify. “I need to get a job, and the one I’m applying for requires that I travel a lot. So it might be hard for me to make a meeting every day if I’m not around.”
Rogers nodded, taking in the information. “Normally I wouldn’t be too keen on that, but we encourage employment. How far are you going to be travelling? A few towns over?”
“Well, that’s the thing. I was looking into a position in Wakanda.”
Bucky was very aware of the austere rules within his parole, one of the most important being that he was confined to the District of Columbia.
Rogers just stared at him from over his coffee, peering over his black shades. “Wakanda?”
“It’s a country in West Africa,” he explained.
“I’m familiar. I’d need more details about the employment.”
Bucky nodded, letting out a breath. This one was gonna be a bitch, that’s for sure. “Of course. I don’t have the job yet, but assuming I do get it, is this-” he gestured between himself and Rogers “-gonna be problem?”
The ex special forces agent didn’t reply for a moment, setting down his empty cup and checking something on his smartwatch. Finally, he spoke. “Not at all. In some cases, we allow parole prisoners to go outside the state. I’ve never seen a national transfer, but I’m sure it’ll be allowed, providing you adhere to the laws of both countries-” Bucky made a go on gesture with his hand. Yeah, yeah, we know, I’ll have to stick my nose up your ass for the next twelve months “-and that I accompany you, of course.”
Bucky nearly choked on his scrambled eggs. He overcompensated by swallowing his entire mouthful, and his eyes watered. Once he could breathe again, he wheezed out his response. “Accompany me?! To Wakanda?!”
Rogers nodded. “Of course. That’s the only way they’d allow it, I’m sure. That won’t be a problem…” He titled his shades down and examined Bucky with his ice blue eyes. Bucky forced himself not to swallow or show any sign of submission. “Will it?”
Bucky sat down on the bench next to Clint. “We have a problem.”
Clint looked over, but didn’t catch Bucky speaking in time to read his lips, so Bucky repeated himself. “Yeah, I’m out of bird seed,” Clint replied, frowning down at the empty bag in his hands. The legion of pigeons around them cocked their heads, as if sad at the loss of food.
Bucky sighed and pulled the ham and cheese out of his sub, handing the bread to an ecstatic Clint. “No, the fucking pig wants to ride my ass all the way to Wakanda.”
Clint laughed. “Ride? Get it? Piggyback?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “This is serious. How the fuck am I supposed to steal 2.8 billion dollars-” Clint elbowed him “-with him up in my business? And he’s not even a regular cop, he’s ex special forces. I don’t like this.”
Clint shrugged, and turned to the birds, who were all too happy at Bucky’s offering. “So you had to have known parole wouldn’t be easy. Even if you were on probation, they’d be paying special attention to you.”
Bucky sighed. “Yeah, but I’m not doing this for me, Clint. It’s for her.” Clint couldn’t see him, as he was too busy looking at the birds. Bucky thought for a moment more before Clint turned to face him. “You’re right. This changes nothing.”
Clint grinned. “Excellent. So. Who’s the driver?”
“I don’t know. I’m thinking helicopter for this one. You have connections there, don’t you?” Clint nodded. “Perfect. You take care of that. Meanwhile, I have to find a decent hacker. And an explosives guy.”
“Nat knows someone,” Clint added with an air of casualty that was betrayed by Bucky’s knowledge of their history.
“You’re together again?” Bucky demanded.
Clint shrugged again. “Sometimes we are, sometimes we aren’t. She just looks at me and I can never say no.”
Bucky laughed. “Man, nothing’s changed since college.”
Clint grinned and poked him in the gut. “Some things change.”
Bucky bristled. “Okay, okay. Jeez. I just got out of prison. Give a guy a break, won’t ya?”
Clint promised to work on the driver, and mentioned he’d ask Nat to talk to the explosives guy she knew. Bucky had his own plans for the night to look for a hacker, and maybe a safe cracker while he was at it. Natasha’s gift of the car had been all too kind, but he needed a place to stay, so he decided to call in an old favour with the Langs.
Cassie answered the door. “Hey, Cassie!” She looked at him blankly. “Yeah, you won’t remember me. You were, uh, only two when we met. What are you, ten now?”
“I’m fourteen!” the girl corrected.
“That’s right. Hey, is your dad home?” Scott appeared in the doorway behind her. “Hey, ant-man!” Cassie raised her eyebrows at the nickname. “Your dad used to study bugs in college! He had an ant farm the size of a closet.”
“Insects,” Scott said to deaf ears. “Hey, Buck. What are you doing here?” His voice betrayed his anxiety at Bucky’s appearance, and Cassie seemed to get bored with the conversation and walked away.
“I’m planning a job.”
“I have a family now, Buck-- I can’t… I’m real glad to see you’re out of prison, but I can’t do anything you need me to.”
Bucky nodded. “Alright, that’s fine. I just need a room while I’m in America. The place looks really nice, I like the wing you added out back.”
Scott nodded and came outside. “Sure. 12-24 are all vacant, you can have any one. We have free Wi-Fi too.” He lowered his voice. “23 has a VPN and Tor already installed, if you’re looking to hire a hacker.”
Bucky grinned, and followed Scott downstairs to the inn’s office, where he procured the key. “That’d be perfect, thanks. But, you know, you’re the best hacker around.”
“Untrue,” came a voice from behind Bucky. He spun around and saw an attractive woman with dark hair enter the office.
“Bucky, this is my wife, Janet. Janet, this is…”
“James Buchanan Barnes,” she finished, holding out a perfectly manicured hand that Bucky took. “I wondered when you’d come around. You know, I can’t thank you enough for what you did for Scott. I know that was before my time, but I also know he wouldn’t be a free man today if it wasn’t for you.”
Bucky smiled, looking away. “Yeah, well… this should about make it even. Besides, there are no debts between friends.”
“So, I hear you’re looking for a hacker?”
Scott grimaced and looked over at the house, where Cassie’s silhouette could be seen against the drapes in her bedroom, dancing to some music. “Bucky, I gotta ask, why are you planning a job so soon after getting out?”
Bucky’s vision unfocused, and he clenched his fists, trying to tamper down his rage. “It’s for Rebecca.”
Scott nodded somberly, but Janet looked to him for explanation. “I’m sorry, Rebecca is…?”
“My sister. It’s a long story.”
“So, a job. I assume that means you’re planning on stealing something?”
Bucky looked to the camera in the corner, but he assumed it was safe. Scott would only employ people he trusted. And if he trusted Janet enough to marry her, Bucky did too. “Yes. From Donald Thanos.”
“The medical billionaire, Thanos?”
“That’s right. He lives in the States this time of year, but he keeps all his money in a vault in his Wakandan estate. We’re going to steal it.”
Janet nodded. “I know that asshole. I’m in.”
“Honey--” Scott warned.
“What? You don’t want to do it, that’s fine. But I know everything you do, and more. As long as I get my cut of the money, I’m in.”
Bucky nodded. “You’ll get your percentage.” They talked out a few more details, and then Bucky went to his room to spend some time coordinating the rest of his plans.
A little before midnight, his stomach grumbled, and he looked ruefully down at the rounded slope. It had crept up on him-- both the weight gain and the fourteen years. He’d spent nearly every moment plotting. He was angry, and he already knew the mistakes of letting his rage blind him. This time, he’d hone it. It was his weapon, a tool at his disposal, a device for him to use. He’d planned every aspect of this job, and now it was all- albeit imperfectly- coming together. He was going to drain that fucking bastard dry, his friends were all going to get rich, and he’d--
His stomach grumbled again, more insistent this time. Well, he’d get a midnight snack. Maybe some ice cream to celebrate. And then tomorrow, he’d get back into college shape.