Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve is not having a good day.

First, Fury comes to him admitting that they’d lost the Tesseract— the very thing that he’d dived into the Arctic to get rid of— and then asks him to somehow lead a group of heroes in order to get it back.

Never mind that Steve hasn’t even been out of the ice for a month yet and apparently the person who stole the Tesseract is an alien…

Despite all this, the team of unlikely heroes manages to pull together and fight off the alien army from space and capture Loki, who is apparently the adopted brother of Thor — another alien (god?)— Who can also do magic—

Steve lets out a breath and steps away as SHIELD agents rush in to claim Loki’s staff.

“I’m going to work on coordinating search and rescue,” he says and Loki copies him, literally, turning into him with a shimmer of magic and repeating Steve’s words in a mocking tone.

Ookay, he thinks as he leaves the rest of the Avengers and starts jogging down the stairs. This day keeps getting weirder and weirder. A roar echoes down the steps and he speeds up. Apparently, the Hulk is taking the stairs too, and he doesn’t seem too happy about it.

Steve pulls himself up and over the railing and jumps down several flights of steps. He reaches a landing with a door labeled ‘14’ in bold black letters and wrenches it open, hoping to be able to find a different set of stairs than the ones that the Hulk is currently stomping down.

Instead, he finds something else.

Seriously this day.

He’s not exactly sure how Loki managed to escape, but here he is, dressed like him and everything, holding the scepter.

“I have eyes on Loki,” he says carefully into his earpiece. “Fourteenth floor.” He doesn’t get anything in reply except some vague shouting and he desperately hopes that Loki hadn’t killed everyone the moment he’d turned his back.

“I’m not Loki,” the fake him says slowly, setting down the scepter’s case. “And I don’t want to hurt you.”

Yeah right, Steve thinks before launching himself at the impostor.

Surprisingly, Loki seems to be able to fight just as comfortably with a shield as with a staff, and he matches Steve move for move. It had taken Steve days of constant training to be able to achieve that kind of control.

Gods. Right, he thinks as he kicks Loki away. They probably do this sort of thing for fun.

“I can do this all day,” he warns the trickster as he tries to think of some way to contain the god. Obviously, Thor’s cuffs don’t work.

“Yeah I know,” Loki says, sounding strangely exasperated. “I know,” he repeats, before throwing his shield, and it sure is weird watching that move from the outside.  

Steve throws his own shield and knocks both of them out of play before continuing to wrestle with Loki. Nobody has responded to his comm call and he’s beginning to wonder if maybe he hasn’t yet figured out how to use the thing properly when the staff gets kicked through the glass siding of the walkway and falls to the floor below.

Alright, fine, he thinks and trips them both. Except now, they’re falling the whole fourteen floors and he’s definitely going to be bruised after this.

Dazed and panting, he’s about to launch himself up and continue the fight when he sees his compass sitting open on the floor, Peggy’s picture staring at him. He snatches it up and stumbles to his feet, his other hand pressing onto his belt where he can feel another compass pressing through the fabric.

Fake-Steve makes it to his feet as well and Steve stares at him, clutching the other compass in front of him accusingly. “Where did you get this?” he growls.

Loki doesn’t answer and instead makes a dash for the scepter, but Steve is so done with this day and he wastes no time in wrestling Loki into a chokehold. He’s busy wondering how long it takes for a god to pass out when Loki gasps out three impossible words.

“Bucky… is… alive.”  

Without thinking, his arms loosen from around the other’s neck. “What?” he breathes, his mind going still with shock.

And then Loki punches him in the face and knocks him out with the scepter.

This. Day.

oOo

Steve wakes up to a hand on his shoulder and he reacts on instinct, his own hand snapping onto the stranger’s wrist as he lurches and scrambles to get his feet under him.

“Woah, woah. Cap it’s me.”

Blinking, he halts in a semi-crouched position, looking up to see a SHIELD agent standing over him. “Agent Rumlow?” he says, trying to place the guy among the dozens of other agents he’d met. Rumlow had shown him around the Helicarrier hadn’t he?

“Hey Cap,” Rumlow says, his hand still on Steve’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“Loki,” Steve says, glancing around. “He tried to steal the scepter—” He cuts himself off because the scepter is still there, sitting on the floor amid the legs of several other SHIELD agents. “Or, at least, I thought…?” he trails off in confusion.

“We got a call from Mister Secretary,” another agent pipes up, Agent Sitwell…? “He said that Loki got away with the Tesseract.”

“What?!” Steve gasps and tries to lurch to his feet. “Did he hurt anyone?”

“Woah, Cap,” Rumlow says, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder as the world tilts slightly and he sways on his feet. “You look like you need to go to medical.”

“The scepter…” He tries, eyeing the thing as it is once again placed in its case.

“Don’t worry Captain,” Sitwell says, and then he winks. “We’ll get it to where it needs to go.”

What? Steve thinks bewildered, but he doesn’t have time to question the odd behavior because Rumlow and Sitwell both speed off with the scepter, and a different agent – he doesn’t know his name this time – leads him off to the medical suite of Stark tower.

Apparently, he’s not the only one having a bad day because Stark is there too, looking exhausted and slightly exasperated as he’s fussed over by doctors.

“It’s fine!” he hears Tony gripe as he walks in. “Seriously, I know more about this thing than you do, so you can keep your tests and scans away from me, thank you very much.” 

“What happened?” he asks, as he’s ushered in to sit on the medical bed next to Tony.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Secretary Pierce cornered us in the lobby and started making noise about reclaiming the Tesseract,” he says. “As if I’m just going to just give it back to SHIELD for their weapons program, uh uh, no deal.” He shifts as he waves off another doctor. “And then,” he continues, tapping on the arc reactor in his chest. “This thing decides to give out on me for no good reason.”

“What?” Steve says in shock, twitching away and pulling off his helmet for the doctor trying to shine a light in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Tony waves his hand dismissively. “Thor fixed it no problem,” he says, and Steve isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth or not. “But,” he continues, “of course, while I was busy doing the jig on the floor, Loki managed to sneak off with the Tesseract, so, there’s that.”

“Right,” Steve nods as his doctor huffs and walks off to the other side of the room. “I ran into Loki with the scepter too, or at least… I thought I did, it was still there when I woke up.”

“You’re saying he just left it there?” Tony asks in confusion, pushing himself up on the bed.

Steve shrugs.

“Actually Sir,” a cool British voice calls out from nowhere, causing Steve’s heartrate to spike as he jerks his head around, trying to find the source. “I have some surveillance footage that you might be interested in.”

Tony snaps his fingers and swings his feet off his bed. “Excellent J, bring it up.”

“What…?” Steve asks, feeling out of the loop for the millionth time that day.

“Oh right,” Tony says, looking over at him. “I guess you haven’t met JARVIS.” He waves at the ceiling. “J, introduce yourself.”

“Certainly,” the voice says. “My name is JARVIS, Captain; I am Sir’s personal AI.”

“AI?” he asks tiredly, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“Artificial Intelligence,” Tony cuts in. “Super advanced computer. You know what those are right? JARVIS is like them, but he can think for himself.”

“So… he’s a computer in the tower…” Steve says slowly.

“Sure, whatever,” Tony says with a hand wave. “He basically runs the place. Anyway, what do ya have for us J?”

“I feel this footage is best viewed in a more private setting,” JARVIS replies. “Perhaps you and the Captain could move to one of the labs?”

Tony doesn’t even blink at the odd request. “Alrighty then,” he says, rubbing his hands together and pushing himself off the bed before looking over at Steve, a mischievous look on his face. “Let’s get outta here.”

Steve casts a quick glance to the white-coated doctors at the back of the room and hurriedly pushes himself off his own bed before following Tony to the door.

“Okay, we’re going. Bye!” Tony says with a jaunty wave and they dart out of the room, the automatic door cutting off the rising protests behind them.

Tony grins at him as they make their way down the hall and Steve can’t help but crack a smile in return, although he does hope that Tony’s reactor really is fine, and he doesn’t need to stay in under observation.

Tony leads them to an elevator at the end of the hall and addresses JARVIS again once they’re inside. “Alright JARVIS, is Lab 1 still in one piece?”

“Yes Sir, it is,” JARVIS replies from somewhere in the ceiling.

“Good, alright. Take us there.”

JARVIS doesn’t respond but the elevator starts moving. As they start going down, Steve gives a start as he realises that in all the confusion, he’s managed to hang onto his helmet but not his shield.

“JARVIS?” he ventures tentatively, instinctively looking up at the ceiling.

“Yes Captain,” JARVIS replies evenly.

Steve glances at Tony who seems to be watching him intently, before continuing. “Do you happen to know where my shield fell? I lost it in my fight with Loki.”

“Indeed,” JARVIS says. “Your shield is currently on floor 8, near the west side windows.” 

“Oh, thanks,” he replies.

“Okay then,” Tony bursts in, drumming his hands on his legs. “We’ll get someone to fetch it for you.”

“What? No, you don’t need to do that–” Steve protests but Tony waves it away.

“It’s no big deal,” he reassures before directing his voice to JARVIS. “JARVIS? Make sure someone gets Cap’s shield and returns it to him.”

“Certainly, Sir.”

Steve gives a tiny sigh before he notices that Tony seems to be watching him again. “Is there a problem?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and squaring his shoulders defensively.

Tony’s eyes seem to scan him for a second before he gets a calculating look on his face. “So… do you just carry your shield around on your arm all day? ‘Coz that sounds tedious.”

Steve huffs out a sigh and looks away. “Well, it used to strap to my back, but with this new suit…”

“It’s a piece of garbage,” Tony decides with a flippant hand wave. “Typical of SHIELD really— J, put ‘Give Cap an Actual Suit’ on my to do list.”

 “You don’t have to do that—” Steve tries, but he’s cut off by the elevator doors as they open.

“Alright,” Tony says easily, breezing past Steve. “Welcome to the lab, try not to break anything. JARVIS, what do ya have?”

Steve steps into the lab and has his breath taken away. Despite all he’s seen with SHIELD and the Tesseract, the level of advanced science that seems to live in every corner of Tony’s tower still leaves him in awe.

Bucky would love this place. He winces at the thought and thinks back to what Loki had said during their fight. Skipping over the question of how on earth Loki even knows about Bucky, he would have thought that Loki had said what he did in order to distract him and steal the scepter. Except he hadn’t. He’d left the scepter there. And that didn’t make any sense.

Tony’s already made his way into the middle of the lab and JARVIS pulls up several holographic screens. Still completely enraptured by the tech around him, Steve drifts forward, placing his helmet on a workbench by the screens.

“The security cameras in the tower picked up some interesting footage,” JARVIS explains as he pulls up several images on the screens. “The footage leads me to believe that Loki may not have been the one to attack Captain Rogers.”

“How is that possible?” Steve questions. “He looked exactly like me.”

“Indeed Captain,” JARVIS responds as Tony throws him a surprised look. “However, I believe it best to simply watch the whole altercation from the beginning.”

“Okay then,” Tony says, folding his arms across his chest. “Play it back.”

Instead of playing Steve’s fight as he was expecting, JARVIS starts a video that shows all the Avengers together at the top of the tower, right when they cuff Loki. “If we zoom into the top right-hand corner,” he says, and the image suddenly expands to show only a portion of the room. “I think you’ll find something rather interesting.”

“What the…?” Tony says, leaning forward in confusion as a shadowy figure comes into view.

“That’s…” Steve glances between Tony and the screen. “That’s you isn’t it?”

“JARVIS, run facial recognition,” Tony says intently, his eyes fixed on the screen.

“Already done Sir,” JARVIS replies. “The scan brings up a 99% match with one, Anthony Stark.”

Tony curses softly as they watch the Other-Tony follow the proceedings from the sidelines of the room before flicking something off his sleeve and jumping away, the familiar colours of the Iron Man suit appearing right before he falls out of view.

“JARVIS, what did he flick?” Steve questions, his arms folding across his chest defensively. Seriously. What is up with the future? Loki had been in cuffs by then and under the eyes of dozens of people, so the Other-Tony couldn’t be him, right?

JARVIS zooms in and slows down the video and they watch as a tiny figure speeds across the room and lands near the Tesseract before crawling up Tony’s arm.

“Is that…” Steve gapes. “Is that a person?”

Tony darts forward and pulls his finger across the screen, rewinding the footage. “JARVIS is there audio for this?”

“Indeed, there is Sir,” JARVIS replies and the video begins to replay, this time with sound.

“Ooh, alright. You’re up little buddy.” They hear the Other-Tony say. “There’s our stone.”

“He’s after the stone?” Steve asks in confusion and Tony shivers and rubs his arms next to him.

“What happened next, J?” Tony demands and the video screen changes to when the Avengers exit the elevator and arrive in the lobby. A small screen pops up and shows the Other-Tony as he sneaks in onto the ground floor dressed as a SHIELD agent.

“It seems your doppelganger left via his suit and came back in here,” JARVIS provides. “Then Secretary Pierce attempted to take back the Tesseract.” The lobby video plays, complete with audio, and Steve watches as a blond older man confronts both Thor and Tony before several agents physically try to reclaim the Tesseract.

“He seems to want it very badly,” he murmurs.

“Indeed Captain,” JARVIS replies. “However, I believe you will find the actions of Sir’s impostor quite interesting.”  

The video rewinds a bit and zooms in on the Other-Tony who seems to be mumbling into an earpiece and trying not to draw attention to himself. “Alright, move it Stuart Little, things are getting dicey out here, let’s go.”

They can’t hear the response of the Other-Tony’s tiny companion, but Tony rubs his arms again. “I can’t believe that guy was on me,” he grumbles under his breath.

“You’re only giving me a mild cardiac dysrhythmia ,” Other-Tony mutters and Tony jerks, his eyes wide. In the background of the video, agents are trying to physically tear the Tesseract away from Tony and both sides are becoming more and more agitated. “Do it Lang! The window is closing, pull my pin.”

Steve opens his mouth in shock and then the video pulls out, showing the real Tony freeze and drop the case as his arc reactor begins flickering.

“Medic! Guy needs help,” Other-Tony calls and suddenly the case is spinning across the floor, straight into his hands. Other-Tony scoops it up and begins marching away, heading for the stairs. “Good job, meet me in the alley I’m going to grab a quick slice-” They hear him say, before he’s cut off by an angry Hulk.

“NO! STAIRS!” Hulk screams and Other-Tony goes flying. The case spins away and pops open, both of them watching in slow motion as the Tesseract tumbles out and lands next to Loki’s feet.

Loki’s eyes widen and in an instant, he swoops down, grabs it, and disappears in a cloud of blue smoke.

“Oh, we blew it.” They hear Other-Tony say as Thor stabilizes Tony and notices Loki’s absence. The video cuts off and they stand in silence.

“What was that!” Tony snaps, staring at the screen.

“That couldn’t have been Loki,” Steve says. “Right? I mean,” he gestures to the screen. “He was right there the whole time; he couldn’t have been the other-you too.”

Tony draws his lips into a thin line. “We’ll have to ask Thor about Loki’s powers, but I doubt even he would know how to give me a mild cardiac dysrhythmia.”

Not to mention the Iron Man suit that he had, Steve thinks uneasily, the suit hadn’t looked like the ones that Tony used.

Tony rubs at the arc reactor in his chest. “JARVIS, who was that little guy?”

Steve’s head perks up. “The other-you called him Stuart Little, didn’t he?” he asks before JARVIS can reply and Tony stares at him for a second.

“Indeed, Captain,” JARVIS responds. “However, Stuart Little is most likely a reference to a children’s book published in the year 1945.”

“Oh.” His chest tightens and he ducks his head slightly, his cheeks heating. “Never mind then.”

“It is of no consequence Captain,” JARVIS says. “If you like, I can pull up a copy of the book for you later. As for the identity of our tiny companion, I believe Sir’s double calls him by the name of Lang; however, there is no record of such an individual in my database.”

“Wow. Shocker,” Tony drawls sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “We don’t have record of Honey-I-Shrunk-The-Kids on hand? Amazing.”

“How did he even get so small?” Steve asks, ignoring the reference and hoping that shrinking is not some sort of common thing they do now in the future.

“Who knows,” Tony says, waving his hand dismissively. “There’s all sorts of crazy stuff in New York...” He pauses for a second, before clapping his hands together. “Okay! So, crazy-double and tiny-man, both trying to get the Tesseract… and Loki got it and then tried to go for the scepter?”

“I don’t believe so Sir,” JARVIS responds and pulls up more images on the screen. “You see, Captain Rogers’s fight was happening at the same time as the Tesseract incident.”

“Let’s see,” Tony says, narrowing his eyes and folding his arms again. “This is some Doctor Who craziness,” Steve hears him mumble under his breath.

JARVIS starts the video and shows Steve’s double make his way into the tower and climb up several flights of stairs before stopping in front of an elevator. He has an earpiece in, and they hear his one-sided conversation as he pushes the lift’s button. “On it. Head to the lobby.”

JARVIS then pulls up the lobby surveillance and lets it play silently in the background, showing the Avengers and a very surrounded Loki. Meanwhile, he cuts to a camera in the elevator where the STRIKE stands with the scepter and Agent Sitwell is on the phone. “Evidence secure,” he says. “We’re on route to Doctor List.”

The doors open as he says something about a secretary and Other-Steve gets into the elevator, all the agents eyeing him apprehensively.

“Cap,” Sitwell says. “I thought you were coordinating search and rescue.”

“Change of plans,” Other-Steve says, and even through the screen, Steve can sense the tension in the elevator.

“Hey Cap,” he hears Rumlow say and the man seems to give his doppelganger a calculating look.

Other-Steve nods stiffly. “Rumlow,” he says before shifting and looking around him. “I just got a call from the Secretary… I’m going to be running point on the scepter.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at that and glances back at the lobby scene where Secretary Pierce is just now confronting the Avengers. Back inside the elevator, the SHIELD agents don’t seem too happy with Other-Steve’s claim.

“Sir, I don’t understand,” Sitwell stutters, sounding nervous.

“We got word that there may be an attempt to steal it,” Other-Steve reasons.

“Sorry Cap,” Rumlow says, shaking his head. “We can’t give you the scepter.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion because while he knows that Other-Steve isn’t the real one, Rumlow doesn’t know that, and therefore has no reason not to trust him.

“I’m going to have to call the director,” Sitwell states, almost looking smug.

“That’s okay,” Other-Steve says confidently. “Trust me.” He then leans in close to Sitwell’s ear, but not too close as to not be heard by everyone else in the room. “Hail Hydra.”

“What?!” Steve bursts out and spins away from the screen, his heart pounding.

“JARVIS, pause,” he hears Tony say in the background as he stumbles against a workbench.

What was that? he thinks frantically, his chest squeezing painfully. Hydra? It can’t be, Hydra’s gone. It has to be. I. Killed. It.

“Hey, hey Cap. Cap, you with me? Steve, hey.”

Steve blinks and looks up to see Tony in front of him, his hands out, but not touching. “You good?” he asks him carefully, his gaze strangely intense.

Steve shudders out a breath and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before glancing back at the frozen image on the screen. “I thought Hydra was gone,” he rasps.

“Ditto,” Tony replies quickly. “I’m just as lost as you are right now, alright?” he scans Steve for a second. “You gonna be okay?”

Steve huffs out a laugh and gives his head a shake. “I’ll have to be,” he responds grimly as he straightens and eyes the screens in front of him. “Is there still more footage?” he asks.

“Looks like it,” Tony says, eyeing him carefully before he too turns back to the screen.

Steve swallows and nods. “Alright, let’s go.”

JARVIS restarts the video and Steve watches as the SHIELD agents look shocked at the Other-Steve’s announcement, but not shocked-confused, as in ‘why is Captain America talking about Hydra’ or shocked-angry, as in ‘Hydra is bad and I don’t like it’ but more like, shocked-awed, as in ‘I can’t believe this is happening to me right now.’

Something sick curls up in his stomach and he grits his teeth as the agents make no protest when Other-Steve takes the scepter and leaves the elevator.

“Wait,” Tony says suddenly and the video pauses. “JARVIS, zoom in on his face.”

JARVIS complies and the camera zooms in on the Other-Steve’s face. He’s smirking.

“Son of a…” Tony trails off with a glance at Steve that he doesn’t quite understand before grinning and shifting back. “Whoever this is,” he says, tapping the screen. “I’m guessing he’s not actually Hydra. Not with that face.”

“You think?” Steve asks, his eyes scanning his impostor.

“Yeah, I mean, look at him.” Tony waves his hand absently. “He looks like he just pulled the wool right over the eyes of all of them.”

Steve relaxes slightly. “It does look like that,” he agrees before frowning. “But that would have to mean… that would mean that all those agents are actually Hydra.”

Tony swallows. “Right. Yeah. That too.”

Steve presses his lips into a thin line. “Keep playing please, JARVIS.”

The video resumes as Other-Steve marches out of the elevator. “Tony what’s going on?” he says into his earpiece, looking concerned. “Tell me you found that cube.”

Meanwhile, the lobby video silently shows Other-Tony on the floor next to a rampaging Hulk.

Other-Steve sighs and swears when he looks up to see the real Steve, and once again Tony casts a glance at him that he can’t quite read, although this one looks mostly amused.

“This is weird,” Tony mumbles, as they watch the fight between Steve and Other-Steve.

“No kidding,” Steve replies and winces slightly as they both tumble off the walkway and JARVIS has to cut to a new camera while they fall.

“Holy—!” Tony jerks and turns to stare at Steve. “Are you alright? How many floors was that?!”

“Yeah I’m fine,” he replies dismissively, ignoring the twinge of the newly forming bruises on his shoulders.  

“Captain Rogers fell approximately 14 floors,” JARVIS says at the same time.

Tony sputters at that for a second before turning away grumbling, his hands shoved in his pockets. Meanwhile, on screen, Steve confronts Other-Steve with the compass, his voice hard.

“What’s so special about the compass?” Tony asks curiously and Steve glances away.

“It’s mine,” he says finally. “I always carry it, and I couldn’t understand how Loki would even know about it, let alone have one.” His fingers press onto his belt again. “Especially since I still had mine the whole time.”

Tony’s brow furls in confusion and they both watch as the two Steves wrestle and fall into a headlock.

“Bucky… is… alive.” Other-Steve rasps and Steve shivers.

“This guy’s looking less and less like Loki,” Tony says quietly.

“Yeah,” Steve says shortly. But what does that mean? he wonders uneasily. If that’s not Loki, then who is it?

Other-Steve knocks him out with the scepter and takes it, and the extra compass, before walking off with one last parting quip. Steve sighs. “After that, I woke up with Rumlow standing over me and the scepter still there.”

“Indeed, Captain,” JARVIS says. “I suggest you keep watching.” He pulls up another screen and it shows Other-Steve sneaking into Stark Tower, this time carrying the scepter.

“What…?” Tony chokes out as they watch the new Other-Steve watch Steve’s fight from the shadows, darting out just as the Other-Steve leaves and replacing the scepter near Steve’s unconscious body. He then glances up and looks directly into camera before giving a very deliberate salute.  

He’s gone just as quickly and Rumlow and Sitwell rush in not long after.

“Don’t worry Captain,” Sitwell says with a wink. “We’ll get this to where it needs to go.”

Steve gives a start and curses. “If they’re really Hydra…”

“Then they just got their hands on the scepter again,” Tony says grimly.

“Are they actually Hydra though?” he questions a little desperately, gesturing at the screen and swallowing against the tight feeling in his throat.

“Excellent question, Captain,” JARVIS says. “I believe there is another clip that may answer your question.” The screen clears and a new box pops up, showing Other-Tony once again. They’re back at the top of the tower and audio comes on just as Sitwell and Rumlow rush into the room.

Steve can hear their muted conversation with Natasha and Clint, but he focuses in on Other-Tony, and now that he’s looking for it, he can see the infamous ‘Lang’, a tiny bump, on Other-Tony’s shoulder.

“They were SHIELD,” Other-Tony mumbles as he watches the scepter being exchanged. “Well, actually Hydra, but, we didn’t know that yet.” Steve’s stomach drops and he barely hears Other-Tony’s parting words to his friend before the tiny figure is once again flicked across the room.

“JARVIS pause,” Tony says stiffly before pacing away and running his hand through his hair agitatedly. “Okay,” he says tightly. “Okay, who are these guys?” He swipes his hand in the direction of the screen. “We didn’t know that yet?” he repeats in frustration. “What are they, time travelers?”

“Actually, Sir,” JARVIS cuts in and Tony freezes, slowly turning to face the screens again.

“What, is it,” he says quietly and Steve’s eyes dart back and forth between him and the screen. Time travel wasn’t— they couldn’t do that now, right?

JARVIS pulls up a simplified image of both Other-Tony and Other-Steve and they rotate on screen as he talks. “According to my scans, both of your counterparts appear to be at least a decade older than the both of you,” he explains. “Additionally, you will notice that Tony’s impostor no longer has an arc reactor embedded in his chest.”

Tony opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything, simply staring at the screen.

“He removed it?” Steve asks, glancing at Tony. “Is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Tony replies dazedly. “It wasn’t a few years ago.”

“Indeed, Sir,” JARVIS says. “That, coupled with the multiple versions of Captain Rogers, and the new design for your counterpart’s Iron Man suit, leads me to believe that time travel might not be too far out of the realms of possibility.” 

“Wait a second,” Steve says suddenly. “JARVIS, pull up the part where the Other-Steve returns the scepter.”

“Certainly, Captain,” JARVIS complies, and the video starts to replay on another screen.

“There. Look,” Steve says, pointing to the screen. “He’s wearing a different suit.”

Tony blinks and seems to focus in on the screen. “…Are you sure you don’t have a clone sitting around somewhere?” he asks slowly.

“A what?” Steve questions, completely lost.

“Never mind,” Tony says, waving his hand. “Just so we’re covering all our bases here, we’re sure this isn’t Loki?”

Steve shrugs and folds his arms. “How would Loki know about Hydra?” he asks. “And even if he did, how would he know that Rumlow is Hydra? How did he know about my compass? And why did he care enough about it to grab it when he left?” He gestures at Tony. “How did he know about your arc reactor thing? And why make illusions that are ten years older? Most of all, why bring the scepter back?”

“Okay, okay,” Tony says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, but time travel? Why?”

Steve shifts and glances away, unconsciously falling into planning-mode, like he had so many times with the Commandos. “Let’s take a look at what we have,” he says, his hands itching to pull up various images on the screens but not feeling confident enough to do so. Instead, he relaxes for probably the first time since he’d come into the lab and begins calculating. “We know that both of them were working together,” he says. “Other-Steve talked to Other-Tony over the comms. and presumably told him to head to the lobby.” 

“Okay sure,” Tony says, folding his arms and gesturing with one hand. “So, both of them were after the Tesseract and Loki’s staff.”

Steve purses his lips. “Other-you called the Tesseract a stone… and we already know that the Tesseract is a power source…”

“So, Loki’s staff has a stone too, probably a power source as well,” Tony cuts in.

“Exactly,” Steve says. “And they both…” He trails off and spins to stare blankly at the screens. “Okay,” He says after a second. “Let’s assume that they’re both telling the truth right now and all those agents are actually Hydra.”

“Okay…” Tony says, his brow beginning to furl.

Steve starts pacing, his mind racing. “Other-Steve said he got a call from the Secretary.” He spins around to face Tony. “And Sitwell said something about a secretary on the phone too.”

Tony’s mouth drops open. “My friends call me Mister Secretary,” he recites in shock. “Wait. So you’re saying Alexander Pierce is Hydra?”

Steve starts pacing again. “It makes sense doesn’t it?” he says, waving his arm. “Because what was he doing right at that moment? Trying to get the Tesseract from you.” He plants his feet and looks at Tony. “Maybe they were trying to get the staff and cube away from Hydra.”

“…maybe,” Tony concedes. “Other-me certainly didn’t seem happy when Loki got the cube…” He blinks. “Wait, but why bring the scepter back then?” He gestures exasperatedly to the screen showing Other-Steve returning the scepter.

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it. “I… don’t… know,” he says finally. It’s a fair question, because while Other-Steve had taken the staff from Rumlow in the elevator, bringing it back had only let the staff fall back into Hydra’s hands. He think’s back to the salute Other-Steve had given JARVIS. “Maybe they couldn’t actually keep it?” he ventures. “Maybe they could only warn us?”

“Yeah, well, now Loki has the Tesseract,” Tony grumbles, moving to the screen and pulling up an image of Loki vanishing. “So I’m not sure just how helpful they were.”

“Maybe they needed it for something,” Steve says. “If they can… if they can time travel, it wouldn’t matter how long they had it for right?”

JARVIS chooses that moment to pipe up. “It does appear that the staff that Captain Rogers’ double returned is slightly different than the one he took.”

“What?” Tony snaps, his hands flying about the screen. “How so?”

JARVIS pulls up an image of both staffs and they look the same to Steve.

Tony too, apparently, because after a second he asks, “What am I looking at, J?”

“My scans indicate that the second staff seems to be made of newer material,” JARVIS says, enlarging the image of the second staff. “However, the power source of both seems to be the same.”

Tony relaxes. “Okay, so the stone is the same, it’s just the staff that’s… newer.” He drops his hands and mutters a few distinctive phrases about time travel under his breath.

Steve can’t help feeling the same way, because, honestly, aliens are one thing… but time travel?

“Okay, wait a minute,” Tony says suddenly, his hand waving in front of his face. “We’re focusing on the wrong thing here. It doesn’t matter where, or why, or what, or how they were here,” He runs his hands through his hair agitatedly. “We have a serious problem.”

Steve blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Tony says, looking over at him. “If they’re right, and it’s looking like they are… then this place is crawling with Hydra.”    

Chapter Text

Steve’s stomach drops. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Tony says sharply, pulling up images of Pierce and the agents from the elevator. “I mean, Pierce is the Undersecretary, he’s got ties to the World Security Council, they’re the ones who— oh.” He pauses abruptly, his eyes going distant. “Well that would explain the nuke,” he says dryly.

Steve shifts and thinks back to the debriefing packet that he’d been given about the end of the war. He shivers and tries not to think about what would have happened if Tony hadn’t done what he had with the nuclear missile.

“Okay, so Pierce is Hydra, probably,” Steve says, blinking away the image of the mushroom cloud that had been included in the packet. “That can’t… that can’t be legal right? Can’t we just expose him or something?”

Tony laughs. “With what evidence?” he asks, sweeping his arm out in front of him. “Footage of time travelers? Besides, we don’t know how deep this runs. Sitwell and Rumlow are both SHIELD agents… for all we know, SHIELD is compromised, and Fury is Hydra.”

Steve swallows tightly. “He was making weapons with the Tesseract,” he says lowly.

“Right,” Tony says, jamming his hands in his pockets. “So, at this point, we don’t know who’s not Hydra. You and me, obviously, Thor’s also a pretty good bet.” He tilts his head. “Bruce, I doubt it, but you can never be too careful I guess…” His hand drifts up to rub at the arc reactor.

Steve’s lips thin and his eyes trail over the screens in front of him. “Natasha and Clint, they could go either way.”

Tony nods grimly and makes a noise of agreement. “Right, so we know that Hydra is alive and seemingly well, considering that they have Pierce and all, and we know that—” He cuts himself off and stares at Steve. “They think you’re Hydra,” he says slowly.

“What?” Steve sputters.

“They think you’re Hydra!” Tony says excitedly, his hands flying. “This is perfect! We already have a man on the inside!”

“Tony stop,” Steve says, holding his hand out in front of him and resisting the urge to rub at his forehead. “Come on, who’s going to believe I’m Hydra?”

“They obviously did,” Tony says, pointing to the screen even though it’s no longer showing the elevator scene. “They bought the whole thing!”

“Okay sure,” Steve says, thinking back to Sitwell’s wink when he had taken the scepter. “But as soon as they do some digging they’re going to realize that I didn’t actually get a call from the Secretary and had no business taking the staff at all.”

“We’ll think of something,” Tony says with a wave and Steve’s throat tightens at the thought and his heartbeat starts speeding up. “Meanwhile,” Tony continues, “You can pretend to be all dark and tentacle-ly and figure out how deep this thing goes—”

“I don’t want to be Hydra!” Steve bursts out frantically, his eyes wide, and Tony pauses, his gaze flickering over him. “I don’t want—” Steve breathes and tries to unclench his fists. “I can’t—”

“Okay,” Tony says, quieter, his hands out in a placating gesture. “Okay, so. This all sucks, and the fact that Hydra probably survived your trip to the Arctic isn’t great but—” He scans Steve’s face. “I’m not seeing a lot of options here, Cap.”

Steve runs his hand through his hair and draws in another breath, looking away.

Tony drops his hands and drifts a little closer. “If these people are Hydra, and they probably are, then they’ve managed to hide it really well. Because as far as everyone knows,” he circles his finger in the air. “Hydra died with you buddy, back in World War Two.”

Steve drops his hand from his head and grits his teeth before leaning back dejectedly on the table next to him, his eyes drifting aimlessly around the lab.

“And the thing is,” Tony continues. “They think you know. They think you somehow found out about them, and I’m just guessing here, but I bet that if Hydra thinks you’re a threat to them, they’re not going to hesitate to get rid of you.”

Steve’s shoulders slump and he sighs, glancing up at Tony. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?” he says roughly. “If I don’t pretend to be Hydra then Hydra will make sure I can’t tell anyone else about them.”

“Exactly,” says Tony, spreading his hands. “So I suggest we make the best of it and try to sniff out the rest of them while making sure you don’t die in some sort of ‘unfortunate’ accident.”

“Okay,” Steve says, breathing in a little shakily before glancing back at the screens and asking quietly, “Do you think… do you think the Other-Steve was also telling the truth about…” His throat flexes. “About Bucky?”

Tony opens his mouth before glancing away for a second. “I don’t know,” he says finally, shrugging his shoulders and crossing his arms. “If he is, I don’t know how, and he’s gotta be like, a hundred years old now right?”

Steve pushes up off the table and sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s probably nothing.”

“No, no, no.” Tony waves his hands. “I didn’t say that. I mean, come on, we’re dealing with time travel and aliens here, resurrected war heroes are kinda part of the deal.”

Steve snorts and shakes his head. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Tony smile slightly. “I’ll have JARVIS keep a look out,” he offers, “I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

“Thanks,” Steve says tightly, blinking away a sudden warmth in his eyes.

Tony opens his mouth to say something else but is cut off by JARVIS. “Sir,” says the AI. “Agent Romanoff is calling.”

Steve and Tony share a glance. “Put her through,” Tony decides.

“Tony,” Natasha’s says sharply, her voice echoing around the room. “Where are you? Medical said you left—” She’s cut off by another voice.

“Are we still on for shawarma?” Clint demands. “’Coz Thor’s finally done talking with SHIELD about Loki and the Tesseract, and I don’t know about you, but I need food.”

As if on cue Steve stomach growls and he becomes aware of how many calories fighting an alien army burns.

Tony glances between Steve and the screens before he gets a calculating look on his face. “Sure, yup,” he decides, rubbing his hands together. “Shawarma. Meet us in the lobby, Steve and I’ll be right up.”

“Sure,” Clint says easily. “Nat, go find Bruce—” And the line cuts off.

“Is this a good idea?” Steve asks. “For all we know they could be Hydra.”

Tony shrugs and makes his way to the lab doors, leaving Steve to grab his helmet and scramble after him. “They could be,” Tony agrees. “But we can’t afford to let on that we’re suspicious.”

“So act like everything’s fine.” Steve sighs. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Tony gives him a strange look, but Steve doesn’t pay it much mind because leaning against the wall beside the elevator is his shield. The relief he feels upon picking it up is a little unexpected and he buckles it on carefully, hanging on to his helmet straps with his other hand, before getting into the elevator.

He lifts his shield arm slightly. “This is mine, right?” he asks JARVIS as the elevator starts to head for the lobby.

“Indeed, Captain,” JARVIS replies. “Your doppelganger picked up his own shield as he left with the scepter.”

oOo

They all meet in the lobby, even Thor, who is looking rather sour at his brother's most recent disappearance.

Shawarma, Steve discovers, is actually pretty good and as an added bonus, the store manager doesn’t mind that they descend upon them and eat literal godly amounts of food, claiming that it would probably go to waste anyways.

Halfway through the meal, Tony pipes up. “So, Thor. Now that Loki bibbidi-bobbidi-booed his way out, I was wondering if you could answer some questions about his powers.”

Thor sighs and puts down his handful of food. “Aye, Stark, I will do my best. Although I am no expert in the art of seidr.”

Tony blinks but brushes off the weird terminology. “Sure, okay, whatever. I’m just interested in the types of things he can do. Like, he can create illusions right?”  

“Indeed,” Thor replies. “He is adept at creating falsehoods.”

“Right,” Tony says. “Does he have some sort of limit though? Like, he can only create one at a time, or they all have green eyes or something?”

Thor frowns in thought. “I do not know if Loki has a limited number of illusions he can make, but I know that he can make at least a dozen at a time…” He looks pensive for a moment before continuing. “Loki has the ability to recreate his illusions perfectly if he desires, but they dissipate instantly once they are touched.”

Both Steve and Tony share a glance at that because Thor’s words confirm once and for all that Loki couldn’t have been their impostors, leaving them both with the uncomfortable reality of possible-time travelers and Hydra.

Natasha goes on to question Thor further about Loki’s skills and Steve finds that he’s not that hungry anymore.

“Fury wants us to report back and debrief,” Natasha says as they’re finishing up.

“Fine,” Tony says before anyone can reply. “But I’m not doing anything until I get at least one night’s rest.”

Natasha opens her mouth to protest and Tony holds up a hand. “Ah, ah, ah,” he says. “I just flew a nuke into a portal today, Fury can wait until tomorrow for me to report on it.”

Clint laughs and Natasha gives Tony a wry smile. “I’ll let him know,” she says dryly.

“You do that,” Tony nods decisively. “Meanwhile, everyone’s free to crash at my place tonight. Everything not smashed is on the house.”

Surprisingly, they all manage to collectively agree that it would be simpler if they stayed over at Stark Tower and report to SHIELD together in the morning.

“Perfect,” Tony says as they re-enter the building. “JARVIS will show you to rooms that are still structurally sound. Cap. You’re with me, we gotta do something about that suit of yours.”

“We don’t need to…” Steve trails off helplessly as Tony wanders off towards an elevator and he ends up following despite his protests.

“Okay,” Tony says as they enter the lab and he heads to a workbench. “JARVIS, is everything secure?”   

“It is, Sir,” JARVIS replies.

“Good,” Tony says, turning to face Steve. “Because we need a game plan.”

“For… for the suit?” Steve asks, feeling lost.

Tony waves his hand as if brushing the idea away. “We can do that whenever,” he says distractedly. “But tomorrow we’re potentially heading into the lion’s den and we need to figure out what we’re going to tell SHIELD, and Hydra too if they decide to rear their head.”

“Right,” Steve swallows, going over to sit across from Tony at the workbench.

“So,” Tony states, folding his hands in front of him. “What are we going to tell Fury?”

Steve shifts into a more relaxed pose and shrugs. “Loki stole the Tesseract, tried to steal the staff, knocked me out and,” he waves his hand aimlessly. “For reasons unknown, didn’t take it with him.”

“Right, okay.” Tony drums his fingers on the table. “We could probably swing that, as long as I don’t let on that I have footage of the incident…” His voice shifts into a dry mocking tone. “I’m sure it was damaged beyond repair during the invasion.”

Steve cracks a smile at that. “So.” He sobers slightly. “What do we do about Hydra?”

oOo

Steve and Tony end up not getting much of the ‘one night’s rest’ that Tony had wanted because they spend most of it debating the ins and outs of infiltrating Hydra.

At one point, Tony had tried to use the bug that he’d planted on the Helicarrier to try and dig deeper into SHIELD and find some dirt on Hydra. In the end, he’d conceded that his bug could only dig so deep, and that Hydra was probably keeping their information on some sort of separate server.

Steve’s throat still feels tight at the very idea that Hydra had managed to survive until now, and that he actually isn’t allowed to hunt them down right now because they weren’t exactly sure who to hunt.

Adjusting his grip on his shield, he makes his way towards Fury’s office and tries not to glare at the passing SHIELD agents, reminding himself that just because they work for SHIELD, doesn’t automatically mean that they’re Hydra.

Doesn’t automatically mean they’re not Hydra either, he thinks bitterly as he and the other Avengers head into Fury’s office to report, the room tucked away in a New York SHIELD building that, unlike the Helicarrier, had managed to come out of the Battle of New York relatively unscathed.

Reporting about the battle actually isn’t that difficult because he doesn’t need to know anything. He doesn’t need to know why Loki left the staff, that was for Fury to figure out. Sometimes it pays to play up the hard-headed jock persona of Captain America.

The meeting adjourns and the rest of the Avengers start filing out of the room, Tony catching his eye as Steve opts to stay behind.

“Can I help you?” Fury asks from his desk, catching Steve in a one-eyed stare.

Steve clasps his hands behind his back and stands at attention. “I’d like to keep working with SHIELD, sir,” he says to a point a little above Fury’s head.

Fury shifts in his chair. “Do you?” he says, tilting his head as he examines Steve. “I thought you might want a little bit of a break. Catch up on what you missed.”

Steve clenches his jaw. “With all due respect sir, I think I’ve been away long enough.”

“Hmm,” Fury says, clasping his hands in front of his face. “Well, there’s still a lot you need to catch up on before we can send you out in the field,” he warns, leaning back in his chair, keeping his gaze fixed on Steve. “Once we get the situation in New York stabilized, I’ll have someone come around to get you set up and start on your training.”

“Yes sir,” Steve replies dutifully before turning on his heel and exiting the room.

He breathes out a silent sigh as he walks down the hall. Working for SHIELD was all part of his and Tony’s plan, since it would give Hydra an excuse to contact him and allow him to work more closely with the terrorist organisation. That didn’t mean that he had to like it though.

I really hope that Fury is not Hydra, he thinks as he heads out of the building. While he might not see eye-to-eye with Fury on some things, and while the man had been making weapons with the Tesseract, Steve had gotten the impression that the man truly wanted to keep the world safe.

And he tried to stop the WSC’s nuke, he reasons as he climbs onto his motorbike. That’s got to count for something.

Shaking his head, Steve revs his motorcycle and speeds off, heading for his apartment.

Well.

SHIELD’s apartment.

They’d issued it to him after he’d woken up and it still doesn’t quite feel like his. (Which isn’t surprising since he’d only been out of the ice for about two weeks). Either way, Tony had decided that it would be best if Steve came and lived in Stark Tower (The Avengers tower now) and Steve couldn’t really blame him.

“Your place is probably bugged anyways,” Tony had said, which had led to a wonderful conversation about modern listening devises and the fact that Hydra probably had eyes on his apartment.

Comforting. Really.

Shaking his head, Steve parks his bike and heads inside to pack. Luckily (or depressingly, he hasn’t quite decided yet) he doesn’t have much to pack. A single duffel bag is enough to hold all his clothes and toiletries and one box is all he needs to pack his SHIELD issued laptop, the files and books they had given him, his boxing gear and a few other personal effects that he’d managed to acquire.

It isn’t hard for him to jury-rig a system to strap it all to his bike, and he’s packed and underway in less than an hour.     

Tony is still renovating the tower of course, but he’s allowing all the Avengers to stay there while it goes on, claiming that with Loki still out there, it was important for them to stick around.

Bruce had accepted immediately, and Steve had gotten the impression that the doctor didn’t really have anywhere better to go. Thor was currently stuck on Earth until his father could conjure him home, (something about a broken magical bridge). He was currently busy visiting someone named Jane, but had said that he intended to return to the tower soon to help them search for Loki.

Clint and Natasha had both agreed to stay as well, although they’d warned that they would still be running regular SHIELD missions and therefore not always around. In fact, Clint had left almost immediately after reporting to Fury, claiming that he had to check up on something.

As he pulls up to the tower, Steve can’t help but feel a wave of irritation towards Hydra. He had come to hold a measure of trust for the Avengers after fighting with them in New York, but now, with the reveal of Hydra, he couldn’t help but be cautiously suspicious of Clint and Natasha because they both work for SHIELD. It was frustrating and not particularly conducive to team building.

It couldn’t be helped though, and hopefully he’d be able to find out their true loyalties soon enough.

JARVIS greets him as he enters the tower, duffel bag over his shoulder and box under his arm, and he sidesteps a group of construction workers busy removing debris. He feels a small stab of guilt at the fact that he’s not out on the street helping to clean up after the attack, but the appearance of Hydra and time travelers had kind of taken over his time.

Maybe I can do something later today, he thinks hopefully as he heads towards the elevators. That hope is almost instantly dashed though, as Tony pops out of nowhere while he waits for the elevator.

“Oh good, you’re here,” he rattles off, his eyes trained on a tablet in his hand. “Did JARVIS show you your room yet? ‘Coz we need to check over your stuff. If SHIELD/Hydra bugged your apartment, I wouldn’t be surprised if they bugged your stuff.” He glances up and scans Steve before frowning. “Where’s your stuff?”

“It’s here,” Steve says, lifting his box up slightly and stepping forward when the elevator doors ding open.

Tony follows him. “Yeah, where’s the rest of it?” he asks, looking affronted.

“Probably in a museum somewhere,” Steve answers dryly, his hands clenching around his box. He shrugs. “This is all I’ve got.”

For some reason Tony doesn’t look too happy about that, and he remains silent for the rest of the elevator ride, something which Steve is already beginning to recognize as a rarity.  

They reach the floor with Steve’s room (and Tony is already claiming that he’s going to redesign his tower with whole floors for everyone, despite Steve’s protests that he absolutely has no need for that much space). The room is sparsely furnished and vaguely dusty from the attack, but it’s no worse than the apartment SHIELD had given him, and Steve gets the impression that he’s going to like it better here, if only because he has JARVIS to keep him company.

“Okay,” Tony says as he follows Steve into his bedroom. “Dump your stuff and grab any electronics, we’ll take a look at them in the lab.”

Dropping his bag and box on his bed, Steve digs out his laptop and phone before following Tony back to Lab 1.

“I’ve offered Bruce Lab 2,” Tony explains as they head down. “That should keep him from overhearing anything sensitive.”

“Right,” Steve nods, his fingers tightening on his laptop. He and Tony had both agreed to keep the Hydra thing under wraps until they knew more about who and what they were dealing with. Not that that’s going to be easy with two spies and a god living in the tower.

Once in the lab, Tony grabs both Steve’s laptop and his phone before ordering JARVIS to scan them, and soon both the AI and Tony are babbling tech speech back and forth.

Steve feels a ghost of a smile as he watches the interaction and sits down at a workbench next to Tony. The whole thing reminds him of how Bucky and Howard would get sometimes when they worked on modifying Bucky’s gun.

The thought of both Howard and Bucky, one who died before Steve woke up, and one who should be dead but might actually be alive, leaves him feeling hollow in a way that’s becoming increasingly familiar. His lips thin and he curls his hand into a fist under the table, glancing away from the scene.

“So… what did you find?” he asks after a moment, in an attempt to distract himself.

Tony, who had by then pulled out a set of very tiny screwdrivers and a pair of safety glasses, doesn’t look up from where he’s currently dismantling Steve’s laptop. “Well it looks like both your phone and laptop seem to be recording and saving your user history,” he responds distractedly. “It lets them know what you’re doing with them.”

Steve’s stomach twists and he swallows. It’s one thing to think he’s being spied on, it’s quite another thing to know.

Tony steps back from the laptop and pulls off his glasses. “So, they know the stuff you’ve been looking at online, anything we should worry about?”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve just been using it to look up the history I missed,” he explains. “SHIELD gave me a file. I’ve been trying to catch up.”

Tony stares at him. “By yourself?” he asks a little distantly, a strange look on his face.

Steve ducks his head, and under the table his fingernails dig into his palm. “I know how to use a computer,” he responds tightly.

“No that’s not…” Tony swallows and glances away for a second before he seems to gather himself. “Okay, anyways, they know your internet history…” He picks up the phone and waves it at Steve. “You ever called or texted anyone on this thing that we should be worried about?”

Steve huffs out a breath. “Who would I call?” he asks, trying not to think back to the file on Peggy he had and the phone number that it had provided.

“…Right,” Tony says, putting the phone down, his eyes scanning Steve. “Well, if we take out the bugs, SHIELD/Hydra would notice, so it’s best to just leave them in. Don’t call or do anything suspiciously not-Hydra on them, kay?” 

Steve cracks a dry smile. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” Tony says, before pushing himself away from the table. “Now for your suit.”

To be honest, Steve had thought that Tony’s obsession with his suit had been at least partially an excuse to allow the both of them to talk about Hydra in private. To be fair, that was a nice side effect, but apparently JARVIS had the ability to take Steve’s measurements remotely and Tony had already sketched out a few designs, leaving Steve to wonder when the man actually slept.

“This one I’m calling the stealth-suit,” Tony explains excitedly as he points to a holographic projection of a Captain America suit. “Its colours are more muted, so it’s less of a screaming target.”

Steve’s lips quirk and he can’t help thinking back to Bucky’s lamentation over his visibility in the field. “That would be good,” he says, his eyes drifting over the image and he continues without thinking. “During the war, everyone wanted to be the one to take down Captain America, and with my suit it was pretty easy to tell who to aim at.”

Tony stares at him for a second before coughing and swiping through a few more images on the screen. “Must have been tough,” he says gruffly.

Steve shrugs and looks away uncomfortably. “I wore my jacket sometimes if I wanted to blend in a bit.” His hands twitch, wanting to pull the familiar folds of leather around him, and he rubs his arms, wondering which museum or collector had been lucky enough to end up with that particular item.

“Yeah, well,” Tony says, snapping Steve back to the conversation at hand. “I can make the stealth-suit no problem,” he assures, his hands waving. “But I’d bet you anything that SHIELD/Hydra has a tracker in your current suit. So don’t be surprised if one day they have to ‘take it away for maintenance’ or something.” He catches Steve’s eye as he shuts down his screens. “If they do, let me know and we can check for a tracker.”

Steve nods. “Are you going to put your own in?” he asks, standing up from the table.

Tony looks at him a little surprised. “Do you want me to?”

Steve does a one-shouldered shrug and shifts a little awkwardly. “I’m going undercover in a Nazi organisation. I’d feel more comfortable if someone knew where I was.”

Tony purses his lips in thought and begins making his way to the door. “I can,” he says finally. “But I’ll hold off doing so for awhile, at least until SHIELD puts their own tracker in, we don’t want them finding ours.”

“Sir,” JARVIS cuts in before Steve can respond. “Ms. Potts is on her way down.”

“Oh, right,” Tony says, looking a little sidetracked, he turns to Steve. “Have you met Pepper yet?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he responds as the elevator to the lab dings open.

“Tony,” A red-headed woman says as she exits the lift and marches forward. “What have you been up to? I thought we were having lunch.”

Tony leans forward and places a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Uh huh,” he says. “And actually, I did not forget about that, in fact, I was just about to head up. Wasn’t I Cap? I was on my way up right now.”

Pepper gives Tony an amused smile before turning to Steve. “You must be Captain Rogers,” she says, stepping towards him with her hand out.

“Steve, please,” he says, accepting her handshake. “It’s nice to meet you ma’am.”

Pepper smiles at him. “Call me Pepper,” she responds. “It’s nice to meet someone who can maybe keep Tony out of trouble,” she says with a teasing smile. “I turn my back for one minute and he’s flying into portals.”

Behind Pepper, a pained expression seems to flash across Tony’s face for a second, before it shifts back into his usual expression of casualness and Steve’s eyes flicker briefly towards him before he focuses back on Pepper.

“I’m not sure I’m the best man for the job,” he admits and tries to offer up some form of a smile as he thinks back to his crash into the Arctic. “But I’ll do my best.”  

Pepper gives him a warm look. “That’s all we can do,” she says, before turning back to Tony. “And you and I are going for lunch.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tony says, darting forward. “There’s food in the common room,” he calls to Steve as he and Pepper head for the elevators. “I’ll get back to you on the suit thing.”

Steve nods and stuffs his hands in his pockets, deciding to let Pepper and Tony take the elevator by themselves, to avoid anything awkward. His hand brushes against the compass in his pocket and something painful spasms in his chest.  

“JARVIS?” he says after a second, looking up. “Can you make sure my suit has somewhere to put my compass?”

“Sir has already made note of that in his designs,” JARVIS replies.

“Oh.” Steve blinks in surprise. “That’s… good. Thank you.”

“Not a problem Captain.”

oOo

The next few weeks pass in an agonizing combination of too fast and too slow. Tony finishes his suit and just as he’d predicted, once Steve had begun training with SHIELD, they had insisted in looking it over ‘to make sure it was up to code’. (Which was a little rich coming from them, given the fact that they’d sent him to fight aliens in little more than a costume), and the suit had come back with a clever little tracker hidden beneath the star of the outfit.

He and Tony had made a note of the tracker and then left it alone, while also adding in one of their own, this time sewn into the waistband of the outfit.

Hopefully SHIELD isn’t in the habit of searching his clothes for other people’s trackers.

He isn’t even that upset about the tracker, not much anyways, he understands the reasons behind having one. It’s just the whole not telling him about it that really highlights the shadiness of the whole thing.

Either way, an agent had finally shown up at Stark Avengers Tower and had started the process of getting Steve ready to work for SHIELD… which basically translated into physical fitness tests and a lot of training videos. That and files. So many files.

Steve groans and rubs his eyes from his seat at the desk in his room. While he appreciates the need to make sure he doesn’t accidentally embarrass himself due to some cultural taboo that he hasn’t heard of yet, there is only so long that one can sit and read files and still remain sane.

That, and the fact that Hydra has yet to rear its ugly head, is making him agitated.

He blows out a breath of frustrated air and glances over at his clock (it’s a digital clock, Tony had been moderately horrified to learn that Steve hadn’t known what one was, apparently SHIELD had been ‘baby-proofing’ his apartment with less than modern equipment). The glowing red numbers let him know that he should probably be in bed by now and Steve chews on the inside of his lip in annoyance.

It’s not that he isn’t tired… he just… doesn’t really want… to sleep.

He’d spent the entire war catching up on sleep whenever he could, always prepared to wake at a moments notice, and now, he finds that he can’t sleep for more than a few hours at a time without waking up, either instinctively or from some sort of nightmare.

Steve rubs his hand through his hair and gets up from his desk, opting to head out of his room for his couch rather than his bed. His ‘room’ is really more of an apartment of its own, and the whole thing is bigger than any place he’d ever lived in before the war. His bedroom alone is bigger than his old living room, and that’s not even including the mini-lounge or the kitchenette that are part of the suite.

Tony had refused any sort of rent and while Steve knows that Tony is literally a billionaire, he still can’t help feeling a little guilty mooching off of the man. (It does ease his mind a little though, not having to worry about paying rent.)

Slumping down on his couch, Steve’s eyes flicker about his dim apartment, before coming to rest on the windows just behind his darkened TV. Despite the recent attack, the city is as alive as ever and the streetlights cast flickering shadows over his room.

“Captain Rogers?” JARVIS speaks up softly. “Is there anything you require?”

Steve sighs and thumps his head back onto the couch behind him. “No thank you JARVIS,” he responds tiredly.

JARVIS had commented on his sleeping habits within the first week of his stay here and Steve had desperately asked him not to tell anyone. He doesn’t imagine that either SHIELD or the Avengers would feel confident working with him if they knew how much trouble he still had in this new century.

(Twenty-first, it’s the twenty-first century, but only weeks ago it had been 1945…)

JARVIS had promised not to disclose any personal information without his permission, unless he was in physical danger, and Steve had felt a wave of relief at that. He didn’t want to risk blowing his chance at taking down Hydra just because he had a little trouble sleeping.

Eventually his eyes drift closed and he slips into an uneasy sleep.

The metal of the plane is freezing to the touch, and a small corner of his mind realises that this is a dream, but only to the extent that it coils up in dread because it knows how this one ends.

The frozen tundra of the arctic rushes past the cracked glass of the Valkyrie and the radio beside him spits and crackles with static.

There’s no Peggy to talk to him this time.

Icy air slips through the cracks in the window and beats against his face, numbing his fingers as they grip the controls in front of him. His eyes dart to the display beside him showing the Hydra bombs in the hold and his breath speeds up.

He has to put it in the water.

There’s no other choice, there’s no choice—

Something red and gold zips past him and his mind stalls slightly as he recognises the Iron Man armour.

Hope rises in him for one pure moment before he spots the giant missile resting deceptively light on the man’s shoulders and his heart stutters when ahead of them his sees the looming presence of Loki’s wormhole.

Steve’s mouth drops open in horror as Tony speeds towards it, knowing with sudden surety that if his friend enters that portal, he will not be making it out again.

“Tony!” He shouts, yanking on the controls of the plane to try and follow him.

But the wind whips the words from his mouth and the controls seem to be frozen in place, refusing to budge no matter how hard he pulls. The plane starts to angle downwards, and he has just enough time to see Tony, nothing but a red and gold blur against the whitened sky, fly into the portal.

Ice is beginning to crystalize over his hands and his breath makes panicked clouds in the air as he braces his feet against the floor and tugs, the metal of the controls in his hands groaning in protest as he pulls on them.

His head snaps up to stare at the radio as it crackles suddenly to life and the scratchy sound of his own voice echoes through the cockpit.

“Close-- the portal,” his voice says, sounding deadly and final amid the static.

Horror rockets through him and he jerks frantically at the wheel under his hands. Tony is still in the portal. Tony’s still in there. He has to get back up there, he has to get back up!

But the controls won’t move, and he can’t seem to let go, his hands completely frozen to the wheel. The plane gives a sudden groan and his head jerks up to see the icy ground of the arctic rushing up to meet him.

He has a sudden realisation that this is going to hurt—   

He wakes with a start, his chest heaving and his heart pounding in his ears, the strands of his nightmare still clinging to the backs of his eyelids.

“The date is June 30^th, 2012,” JARVIS’s calming voice intones. “The time is 5:23 AM. You are in Avengers Tower. The date is—”

“Thank you JARVIS,” Steve rasps, hunching over himself on the couch and rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes, trying not to shiver.

The first glimpses of the sun are beginning to creep over the horizon and Steve presses his palm against his forehead for a moment before finally pushing himself up off the couch and shakily heading towards the small kitchen.

He has a drink of water and then, even though his stomach feels a little like lead, he manages to choke down a granola bar (mentally ignoring the fact that ideally, he should be eating much more) before heading to his room to change out of yesterday’s clothes.

Since waking up, Steve had taken to working out at a gym near his apartment, finding that the exercise helped calm… everything. Now that he’s moved into Avengers tower though, he goes less, finding that his time is mostly taken up by SHIELD and Tony.

JARVIS had suggested jogging as an alternative, but Manhattan is still a little run down from the attack, so Steve has yet to try it out. Tony, meanwhile, had insisted that his tower would have a ‘gym beyond your wildest dreams Cap’ once the renovations were finished.

Judging from the rest of the tower, Steve doesn’t doubt that the gym will be something to behold. For now, though, he’s left without a convenient outlet for the crawling anxiety that seems to follow him, usually resulting from either a nightmare, or dealing with SHIELD’s unnecessary bureaucracy.

Thankfully, JARVIS had come to the rescue yet again, noting that according to Steve’s file, he had an affinity for reading, and suggesting a trip to the library. Since then, Steve’s shelves had begun to fill up with something other than historical volumes and he had found that JARVIS was rather good at recommending reading material.

With that in mind, he changes quickly before settling back onto his couch with a blanket and his current book, intent on quietly waiting for the day to start.

He’s about halfway through The Hobbit, an old friend from before the war, when JARVIS pipes up to inform him that he’s received a new email.

“Who is it from?” he asks, setting aside the paperback.

“Secretary Alexander Pierce,” JARVIS replies.

Steve’s meager granola bar does an unpleasant little somersault in his stomach.

Oh. Perfect.

Chapter Text

On the outside, Steve looks like the perfect vision of a soldier. His Captain America suit making crisp lines across his shoulders, the dark blues of the stealth suit reflecting solemnly on the shield strapped onto his back. He’s at attention, but his shoulders are relaxed, his face clear of any tension.

On the inside though, his gut is crawling with nerves.

Secretary Pierce. Undersecretary. World Security Counsel Secretary. Hydra.

And he wants to meet with Steve.

Steve shifts slightly and thinks back to the email he’d received from the man as he waits to be called into his office.

Dear Captain Steven Rogers,

                I would like to personally congratulate you on your victory in New York and your decision to continue your valuable work with SHIELD. I believe that together we can build a better world, and a better future.

                Since you will be continuing to work with SHIELD outside of an Avengers capacity, I think it best that we meet to discuss your involvement with SHIELD and the Avengers Initiative. I believe you will find that we have many goals in common.

Best regards,

Secretary Alexander Pierce

WSC

Both he and Tony had easily seen the email for what it was. Pierce was testing the waters, setting up a meeting with someone who potentially knew about Hydra and could possibly be an ally. Steve is also under no illusions that if he fails to convince Pierce of his loyalty to the Nazi-extremist group, then he can probably not expect to see much more of the 21^st century.

Steve takes in a breath and lets it out slowly. All he has to do is somehow convince Pierce that he, Captain America, the soldier whose entire military career had centered around destroying Hydra, suddenly really really liked Nazis.

Not an issue at all.

Steve hears a door open and a short set of footsteps before Pierce appears, dressed in an impeccable grey suit.

“Captain,” the man says with a charming smile and an extended hand.

“Sir,” Steve says, stepping forward to shake his hand. “It’s an honour.”

“The honor's mine, Captain,” Pierce replies gesturing to his office down the hall. “My father served in the 101st. Come on in.”

I’m sure your father is looking down on us with pride, Steve thinks sourly as Pierce guides him into the brightly lit room and motions him over to a set of leather couches.

“I understand you’ve been staying at Stark tower,” Pierce says as he takes a seat.

“Yes sir,” Steve replies, sitting across from him. “Tony offered and I felt it was the best thing for the Avengers.”

Pierce leans forward, the perfect picture of an engaging host. “I heard there was an incident there, regarding our escaped war criminal, Loki.”

Steve nods. “Yes sir, he attacked me and attempted to steal the scepter before managing to escape with the Tesseract.”

Pierce shifts, crossing his legs, and a colder air seems to fall over the room. “One has to wonder though,” he says slowly. “Why you had the scepter in the first place.” He tilts his head and studies him for a few seconds before continuing. “I believe my agents reported that you claimed to have received a call for me…” He smiles thinly, “Forgive me Captain, if such a call has slipped my mind.”

Steve swallows and notes the casual use of ‘my agents’. Rumlow’s team is definitely working under Pierce. “Yes sir,” he replies before catching Pierce’s eye. “I had been hoping to… catch your attention, if you know what I mean.”

Pierce eases back and some of the tension ebbs out of the room. “How so?” he questions.

Steve ever so slightly leans forward, trying to look completely earnest. “I thought it was a good a chance as any to…” He waves his hand. “Display my loyalties.” His stomach twists and he very carefully doesn’t tense. “I intended to bring the staff to you, knowing that your agents wouldn’t give it up to just anyone.”

“Even Captain America?” Pierce asks, giving him an appraising look.

Steve allows himself a small, satisfied smile. “Especially Captain America,” he insists, catching Pierce’s eye again, and then, his stomach clenching with disgust and fear, he pushes forward. “Hail Hydra,” he states softly. (He does not gag, he’s very proud of that.)

Pierce is too good to look surprised, but he does shift and lean his elbow onto the arm of the couch next to him. His eyes scan Steve. “Hail Hydra,” he replies, and Steve’s toes curl in his boots. On the outside, he gives Pierce a thin, pleased smile.

Pierce relaxes slightly and rests his chin on the knuckles of his hand. “I’ll admit Captain,” he says in a slippery sweet voice. “Those are words I never quite expected to hear from one such as yourself.”

Steve leans back on the couch and tries to relax as well. “To be honest, neither was I,” he replies, trying to look rueful. “But…” He glances away. “Since waking up here…” He swallows. “My opinions have… changed somewhat.”

Pierce tilts his head. “Have they?”

Steve gives Pierce his own appraising look, trying to act like he’s on the same wavelength as him. “Yes, well…” He lets some of his real-life bitterness seep into his voice. “I woke up after seventy-years to find almost the exact same problems that I fell asleep to.”

His lips twist and he doesn’t have to fake his annoyance. “People like to act like things are so much better now…” His fingers clench in his lap. “They pat themselves on the back for a job well done, and then close their eyes to the problems that they don’t want to deal with.”

Steve shifts and looks towards the windows that line the far wall of the office. “After I woke up, people told me that Hydra had gone down when I did.” He glances back at Pierce and gives him a dry smile. “I found that a little hard to believe, ‘cut off one head and two more shall take its place’, or so they say.”

He shrugs. “So, I started looking, seeing what I could find…” He glares at the floor. “And what I found…” Atomic bombs, genocides, poverty, racism, wars… “I started to think that Hydra might not have been wrong when they claimed that humanity couldn’t be trusted with its own freedom.”

He thinks back to the propaganda that Hydra agents had spat at him during the war while he was busy raiding their bases. He looks back at Pierce. “Humanity has had almost a hundred years to get their act together, and they don’t seem to be any closer now than they did then.” He glances down at his lap and rubs his thumb against his palm.  “I’m beginning to think we need to try something else.”

Pierce gives him a shark-like smile. “I’m glad to hear that, Captain,” he says. “But how did you manage to find us?”

Time-travelers from the future, Steve thinks wryly.

His lips quirk upwards a little at the thought and he allows himself to return Pierce’s smile with a conspiratorial grin. “Like I said,” he responds easily. “I went looking for Hydra.” He waves his hand. “And I kept my ear to the ground. Once I found the Hydra weapons in SHIELD’s vault, I was pretty certain that SHIELD must be implicated in some way.”

He shrugs and crosses his legs in an effort to look more relaxed. “I saw your agents with the scepter and made an educated guess.” He catches Pierce’s eye and tries to look vaguely amused.  “I overheard them talking about you right before I entered the elevator.”

Pierce uncrosses his legs and clasps his hands on top of his knees. “Well Captain,” he says, flashing him a brief smile. “You have most certainly gotten my attention. What do you intend to do next?”

Steve uncrosses his own legs and leans one elbow on the arm of the couch. “I was hoping to continue helping Hydra in some way,” he explains, leaning forward. “It seems to me that Hydra is currently a well-kept secret, so I doubt I’ll be going on any flashy missions, but I figured I could still be useful.” He tilts his head and lets a flicker of amusement cross his face. “Its likely people will look the other way for Captain America.”

Pierce looks thoughtful. “That is possible…” He sits back. “Captain America would be a good front for our mission, and it would be good to have a set of ears inside Stark Tower.”

Steve tilts his head. “Sir?”

Pierce huffs and waves his hand. “We tried to get one of our own on that team, but Fury can be remarkably stubborn when he wants to be.” Pierce pushes himself up from the couch and moves over to the windows, his back to Steve. “Any bugs slipped inside the tower go dead almost immediately,” he explains further.

Steve stands as well, looping his thumbs over his belt and tries not to smile at the thought of JARVIS disdainfully sweeping the tower for foreign bugs. “So you want me to stay on with the Avengers and SHIELD?” he asks feeling relieved. He and Tony had hoped this would be the case, but they couldn’t really be sure what Hydra would do.

Pierce steps away from the windows and faces Steve, his hands in his pockets. “Yes,” he says. “For now. We’ll make sure to get you placed on a SHIELD team of our people.” Pierce’s eyes brighten. “Your Captain America status will help keep both Fury’s and the Avengers’ suspicions at bay while we work on furthering our mission.”

“Our mission, sir?” Steve asks, following as Pierce begins to head for the door of the office.

Pierce turns back to Steve and smiles. “You are correct when you say that Hydra’s underground, but that has proven to be a blessing in disguise,” he explains, opening the door for Steve. “You see, we’ve learned that humanity will fight back if their ‘freedom’ is threatened.”

A look of dark amusement passes over his face. “But make things chaotic enough and… they’ll give it up themselves.”

oOo

Steve gets back to the tower feeling absolutely drained. Trying to outmanoeuver and manipulate Hydra is exhausting.

Also, it’s been seventy-years and he’s still fighting Hydra. Steve feels a bubble of anger form in his stomach and he grits his teeth. He’s really, really tired of Nazis.

“Lab 1,” he says to JARVIS, tiredly running a hand down his face.

“Certainly, Captain,” JARVIS replies and the elevator starts moving.

Tony is, as usual, deeply buried in a pile of electronics and he looks up, pushing away a pair of safety goggles, when Steve slumps into the lab and drags himself over to the couch in the corner that looks like it has seen better days.  

Tugging off his shield, Steve groans and sinks down onto the couch, letting his head tip back and closing his eyes.

“You’re alive,” Tony notes. “That’s a good sign. I’m guessing it went well then?”

“If you consider getting hired by Nazis ‘going well’,” Steve replies dryly, not opening his eyes.

A quiet beeping fills the room, followed by a whirl of electronic parts and Steve’s eyes open to see Dum-E, one of Tony’s robots, rolling across the room towards him. He smiles and reaches out a hand to pat the robot’s claw. Apparently, Tony had a house in Malibu where he kept several robots that he had designed. He’d decided to bring them to New York now that he was spending most of his time there.

“They bought it then?” Tony asks after a moment, rubbing at a spot on the table with his finger.

Steve sighs and sits forward. “Yeah, I think so,” he responds. “They’re probably still suspicious, but as long as I keep my act up, I think we’re good.”

Tony looks away and fiddles with something. “So did you learn anything useful?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. “I’m about 80% certain that neither Fury nor Clint or Natasha are Hydra,” he says. “Pierce wants me to keep an eye on the Avengers and posture for Fury, so I’m guessing none of them are Hydra.”

He shifts and sweeps his eyes over Dum-E. “I don’t think we should tell them yet though,” he cautions quietly. “I wouldn’t put it past Pierce to spy on me with a secret agent just to make sure I’m not lying about my desire to join Hydra.”

Tony laughs sharply. “This is messed up,” he mutters, shaking his head.

Steve’s lips press into a dry smile. “Yeah well.” He shrugs. “So now I guess I’m kind of a smoke screen for Hydra activity… their goal seems to be to spread chaos and make people turn to them.”

Tony picks up a screwdriver and taps it on the table. “Bet it was a major win for them then, if Captain America managed to be converted,” he drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes and thunks his head back onto the couch. “Hurray for Hydra.”   

“Ah, I think you mean hail Hydra,” Tony jokes dryly and Steve’s lips thin.

oOo

Steve had thought that meeting with Hydra would have been the hardest part of his week, unfortunately, he’d forgotten all about Independence Day, AKA his birthday.

July the Fourth rolls around after yet another sleepless night on the couch, and promises a day full of insipid smiles and limp handshakes. It seems as though nearly every news station and every political figure in the country wanted ‘a moment of Captain America’s time’ and Steve is exhausted just thinking about his schedule.

“What’s your favourite thing about the twenty-first century?” asks the millionth news lady for the millionth time.

Steve pastes on his best Captain-America-smile and folds his hands in his lap. “Well the advancements in technology are truly amazing,” he answers, trying not to grit his teeth. “We didn’t have anything like the internet back when I was a kid.”

The hostess leans forward, looking intrigued. “What else is different?” she asks.

Everything. Steve thinks, trying not to clench his jaw as he very carefully keeps a pleasant expression on his face. But you don’t care about that, you don’t care about all the little things that line up together and scream at you that you’ve been dead for almost a century.

 It was the little things really, the little things like the taste of toothpaste and ballpoint pens that click open and shut when you use them, rather than the big things, like TV screens and aliens, that really managed to get under his skin and squeeze the air out of his chest.

“Well the food’s a lot different,” he provides with a tight smile and tries not to think too hard about dancing monkeys and pointless TV interviews.

After his interviews, Steve and the Avengers are required to attend a Fourth of July parade, which could have been fun, if Steve hadn’t already been worn out from dealing with Hydra, smiling for interviews and barely sleeping.

In the end he spends the whole thing smiling pleasantly and nodding whenever someone singles out a particular float. Tony seems to have been the most amused by the giant Captain America inflatable that had floated past, threatening to buy it for himself and attach it to the tower like some sort of demented balloon.

By the time the parade is over, it’s nearly supper time, and Steve feels a wave of relief as the Avengers finally turn in and head for the tower. Maybe now he can finally get some much needed peace and quiet.

“Okay,” Tony says, clapping his hands together, interrupting the other Avengers’ discussion of various aspects of the parade. “Everyone take ten and then meet me in the common room.”

“Why, what’s going on?” Steve asks as they all pile into the elevator.

“You didn’t think we forgot it was your birthday, did ya Cap?” Tony asks, a wide grin on his face. “The party’s just getting started.”

Steve feels his face freeze for a second before he manages a grateful smile. “Right. Of course,” he says, feeling his tongue curl in his mouth. There goes peace and quiet.

Despite his worst fears, when he gets to the common room, there’s no ear-shattering music or flashing lights. In fact, the atmosphere is rather calm, the lights dimmed and the other Avengers chatting lightly as they eat buffet style from the food spread out on the counters. Light piano music drifts from the speakers in the walls, helping to keep the room from feeling too quiet.

Pepper’s there, standing next to Tony and looking relaxed as she sips from an elegant glass in her hand. She smiles at Steve and nods at Tony.

“Cap’s here!” Tony exclaims, spinning around and making his way over to the super soldier. He links arms with Steve and begins leading him over to the buffet. “Everything’s pretty casual,” he explains, gesturing around the room. “I wanted to go all out, but Pepper thought this would be better.”

Steve feels some of the tension in his shoulders start to ease and he casts a grateful look at Tony. “Tell her thank you then,” he replies. “This looks great.”

And it is. The atmosphere is relaxed enough that it doesn’t feel like the type of dinners that Captain America is usually invited to, and it allows the Avengers to bond in a non-combat, non-political environment.

It also helps that Steve is fairly certain that none of them are Hydra agents in disguise.

Until now, he’s found that he’s grown the closest to Tony (ironic considering how their first meeting had gone) but the threat of Hydra had made him cautious about getting too close to the other Avengers. Now though, he finds he can enjoy their time together.

At the moment, he’s fighting against a smile as they all gather around the dining room table to play a card game called Uno. (Uno, he learns, had been invented in the 70’s and is guaranteed to cause chaos). Natasha is currently winning, but Steve has a whole stockpile of ‘pick-up twos’ that he’s been waiting to drop.

“You absolute monster,” Tony breathes as Steve places his cards and Clint starts cackling.

Steve shrugs but can’t help his mischievous grin as Natasha scowls and picks up her cards.

“Whoever says that Captain America isn’t prepared to play dirty is a liar,” she mutters as she hunkers down behind her cards.

Steve lets out a breathy laugh and re-organises his cards, missing the looks of surprise on everyone’s faces but Tony’s. When he looks up again, Clint is grinning at him like his whole day has just been made. 

In the end, Bruce shocks everyone by stealing the win from Tony by one round and Steve has to admit that it’s nice to see the doctor looking so smug.

“Okay,” Tony says, throwing down his cards and jumping to his feet. “Time for cake.”        

‘Cake’ consists of a giant sheet-cake decorated in red, white and blue icing. They don’t eat it right away because both Tony and Clint spend a good five minutes trying to light the 94 candles that line the cake. (Much arm hair is singed in the process). Steve watches the proceedings with folded arms, and an expression of light amusement on his face.

“This tradition of lighting one’s food on fire is very different from any on Asgard,” Thor comments, looking highly intrigued and slightly bewildered by the whole ordeal.

Tony hisses and shakes out his hand before striking a new match and leaning over the cake again. “We only light it on fire for a little bit,” he responds distractedly. “Cap has to blow it out after.”

Thor’s brows furl in further confusion and Steve shakes his head, his lips quirking upwards. He’s never had a cake quite like this before, his cakes having mostly been small and homemade, but the whole experience promises to be memorable.

He’s glad that he’s managed to make it through the whole party without being overwhelmed by past memories of his mother and Bucky as they celebrated his birthday. He’d caught glimpses of the memories, but they hadn’t hurt as much as he’d expected.

Even the number of candles, ninety-four, fails to bring with them the stab of bitterness that he’s come to anticipate. He thinks maybe it’s because two of the candles on the cake have been designed in the shape of a ‘Two’ and a ‘Seven’. It feels… nice to see that his actual physical age hasn’t been forgotten.

Tony lets out a relieved breath as he and Clint sit back from the cake, the candles blazing brightly. “Okay, sing quickly!” he warns, the light flickering across his smiling face. “So far, nothing else is on fire, we want to keep it that way please.”

Singing ‘Happy Birthday’ turns out to be less ‘singing’ and more like a choir who, on the day of competition, got given new sheet music and was then told to just wing it. Except there’s no sheet music. And no chorister.

Turns out that Clint absolutely cannot carry a tune, but he starts the song off anyways, leading everyone in on a wrong note, and causing musical chaos as everyone’s voices dip up and down as they search frantically for the right note.

Natasha gives up entirely and begins singing in Russian while Thor decides he wants to join in, spending the majority of the song half a beat behind as he learns the words on the fly. Pepper and Bruce are no help at all because they’re laughing too hard to make much noise and Tony seems to be making it his goal to clash harmonically with Clint on every note.   

In the end Steve is braced against the counter, his shoulders heaving as he tries to stop laughing long enough to draw in enough air to blow out the candles. It takes four tries, but he finally manages to get them all, and Bruce is volunteered to cut and pass out the pieces.

Steve’s chest feels light in a way that it hasn’t for a while and he hardly winces at all as he eats the ridiculously sweet cake.

Once the cake is passed out, the Avengers make their way to the living room and spread out on the couches. Pepper and Tony sit next to each other and the redhead leans over to whisper something to Tony.

“Right,” he says suddenly, setting his plate on the coffee table in front of him. “Presents.”

Steve opens his mouth in protest as Tony and the other Avengers get up before coming back with a few neatly wrapped packages. “You didn’t have to…” he tries and Natasha hushes him.

“Just open it,” she says, shoving a thin package at him and stepping away. “We didn’t know what you would like,” she cautions, looking almost anxious as Steve examines the present.

He smiles reassuringly at her and begins the process of carefully peeling away the tape from the wrapping paper.

Tony groans and drags his hands down his face before Pepper elbows him. “This is going to take forever.”

“Just because you like to tear up your paper doesn’t mean everyone does,” Bruce cuts in, saving Steve from having to explain that he’s used to having to save the wrapping paper.

Tony huffs but stays silent and Steve finally pulls the paper away to reveal a coil-bound sketchbook. His mouth opens in surprise and his eyes dart up to meet Natasha’s.

She shrugs and smiles, looking down at her empty plate. “We heard you liked to draw,” she offers.

“Thank you,” Steve says, his throat feeling tight as he thumbs through the heavy paper before setting the book aside. He hadn’t drawn much since waking up, but maybe now… Bruce hands him another smaller present which turns out to be a set of drawing pencils, and Steve runs his fingers over them in awe.

The presents seem to be communal gifts from all the Avengers so Steve is surprised when Tony pulls out one last box. Unlike the others, it’s unwrapped, revealing its plain cardboard exterior.

Tony looks a little apprehensive as he passes it over to Steve and the super soldier can’t help wondering a little about what’s inside. He pulls at the flaps of the box and freezes, his mouth falling open as his eyes lock onto the contents of the box.

Tony shifts. “My dad…” He swallows. “My dad kept some of your stuff after the war, and it was just gathering dust on my shelf so I figured…”

Mutely, Steve sets the box on the couch next to him and pulls out the first item.

It’s his leather jacket. The coat is a little musty and slightly stiff after years of neglect, but it’s there. The familiar scuffs on the elbows and shoulders proclaiming it to be his. He draws it into his lap, his hands skittering over the soft leather. His eyes feel hot and he swallows thickly, tugging the jacket close to him before looking back inside the box to see what else there is.

There’s a folder that seems to have notes about him and the serum, which is interesting on some level but not really something he cares about right now. However, under that sits two little notebooks and his hands shake slightly as he picks up one.

 They’re his wartime journal and sketchbook. The sketchbook’s drawings have faded slightly over time but they’re all there—the picture of the mountain flower that he’d found, a detailed sketch of Monty and Morita laughing in the mess hall, Bucky tilting his cap cheekily, the ruins of a church building, the dancing monkey—his fingers glance over the familiar lines before he puts the book reverently on top of the jacket in his lap.

He pulls out his journal next, his fingers tracing the edge of the notebook as he tries to compose himself, glad that these two things had never managed to fall into the hands of the public.  

Sucking in a breath, he sets the journal aside and reaches for the last item in the box.

It’s a folder of pictures from the war. Bucky stares up at him from a group photo of the Commandos, the sepia image overexposed and worn, but perfect all the same. His hands shake slightly as he returns the pictures to the folder and he blinks very carefully so as to not start crying in the middle of the living room.

He clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says roughly to Tony, the words coming nowhere close to expressing exactly what Tony has given him. His hands wrap around his leather jacket and he slowly replaces the other items back in the box. “This— thank you,” he says again.

Tony smiles slightly awkwardly, looking relieved. “Okay well.” he swings himself up from his seat beside Pepper and a lighter atmosphere filters back into the room. “I think it’s time to get some champagne going, the fireworks are about to start.”

Steve opens his mouth in surprise because he’d actually forgotten all about the scheduled fireworks, and he hadn’t realized how late it’d gotten. He’s thankful though, that nobody’s focusing on how emotional he’d just gotten and that they’re casually moving on to something else, while also allowing him a chance to pull himself together.  

“There’s a really good view from the tower,” Tony explains from the kitchen as the other Avengers gather themselves and start to head to the nearby balcony.

Steve accepts a thin glass from Pepper and sets his jacket aside before standing up from the couch and going to stand outside with the others. The night air is pleasantly cool and he sips leisurely from his glass, his eyes scanning the darkened skyline.

The last time he’d been alive for the Fourth, he’d been busy invading France and hadn’t had much time to think about fireworks, but he and Bucky had used to watched them every year.

He stays near the back while the others congregate near the front of the balcony, Clint busy explaining the concept of fireworks to Thor while Tony cuts in, explaining the various kinds and his favourite types.

The fireworks display starts off slow, shooting off one or two rockets at a time, gaining cheers from the Avengers and spectators gathered in the streets.

Instantly, he knows something is wrong. The second the first of the fireworks start flying, something freezes up inside him and he stiffens, his hand tightening on his glass as his eyes widen. His chest squeezes tight and his eyes glance over the other Avengers frantically as he tries to figure out what’s going on.

A set of fireworks burst in quick succession and his breath hitches, his body shuddering, and he has to lock his knees against the sudden overwhelming urge to duck and cover.

Mines, he thinks numbly. That’s what it is, mines exploding and mud and blood flying into his face because there isn’t enough cover—

No no no it’s just fireworks— another set goes off, the kind that scream as they go up, and he has to fight off a full body flinch at the sound. His breath stutters as his eyes bounce from one Avenger to the next, their eyes still fixed on the sky. Thankfully, it seems as though nobody’s noticed his breakdown yet, and he’d prefer to keep it that way.

He thinks uneasily that if Natasha or Clint saw his reaction to the pyrotechnics then they might have to report his instability to SHIELD. That is something he can’t afford because even if Natasha and Clint aren’t Hydra, what SHIELD knows, Hydra will know, and Steve is certain that if that happens then he will lose whatever chance he has at infiltrating Hydra.

A firework that sounds like a rocket-launcher goes off and Steve stumbles backwards slightly, his free hand flying out to steady himself against the wall. A sudden wetness spreads over his fingers and the fabric of his shirt, and he looks down in confusion.

He’s shattered the glass in his hand. The bits of broken glass and champagne drip wetly onto his clothes and the ground.

“Are you okay?!” He looks up to find Bruce looking back at him, his voice raised to be heard over the noise.

He swallows, shaking out his hand and shifting away from the broken glass. It crunches under his feet with an unpleasant sound —broken glass, charred wood, sweep the house, no survivors— A set of red, white and blue fireworks explode in the sky and his throat flexes as he clenches his teeth.

“I’m fine,” he says thinly. “I just—” He pauses. Actually, this is perfect, the perfect excuse— “I’m just going to change,” he blurts out.

“What?” Bruce shouts back in confusion. “Steve wait—”

He flees.

Inside, the sounds are quieter but not completely blocked out, and he stumbles as he makes his way clumsily to the elevator.

Once inside he slumps against the wall, the wet spots of his shirt clinging to his skin. “JARVIS. My room,” he grits out.

The elevator starts moving and Steve focuses on one corner of the lift, his vision tunnelling and spinning as he draws in a shaky breath.

JARVIS speaks up and he jumps. “Captain, I would recommend—”

“Not now please JARVIS,” he gasps out, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. The lift stops and the doors open. It takes more effort than he’d like to admit to push himself off the wall and make his way over to his apartment.

His room is dimly lit and for some reason, the windows are blacked-out – not that he’s complaining – and he can’t hear any of the outside festivities.

Despite the quiet atmosphere of the room, his shoulders feel tense, like he’s about to be attacked from behind at any moment, and his vision feels blurry at the edges, causing him to stumble against the furniture in his room. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to blink things back into focus.  

His fingers fumble at the buttons of his shirt and he somehow manages to get it off, shivering as his damp skin hits the cool air of the room. He wastes no time in tossing it away and jerking out a new shirt from his closet. Thankfully, the first one he grabs is a t-shirt that he can pull on easily over his head. Once it’s on, he stands swaying and breathing heavily, staring around his room in numb confusion.

He thinks vaguely that he might be expected to return upstairs for the rest of the fireworks, but the thought makes his stomach churn, so he discards it almost immediately.

Instead he all but collapses on his bed, a wave of exhaustion falling over him.

A few minutes of discomfort later, he uncurls and flips over irritably, frustration bubbling up in his throat because even after two months the stupid bed is still too soft and it’s not fair, he just wants to sleep.

His breath catches on a sob and he yanks the bedding free with a growl, opting to curl up in the corner of his room instead.    

He closes his eyes miserably and wishes that he’d thought to grab his jacket on his way.  

Chapter Text

“Steve. Steve hey.”

Steve blinks blearily and opens his eyes to see Tony kneeling in front of him, his face shadowy in the dimly lit bedroom.

“Tony?” he slurs out. “What’s going on?”

“Bruce said you left,” Tony explains. “But then you didn’t come back, and we got a little worried.” His eyes scan Steve. “JARVIS said you were in your room, so I came to check on you and bring your stuff.” He gestures to the side where Steve’s presents are now piled up on his bed.

“Oh, thanks.” Steve blinks heavily and shifts a little in the corner that he’s crouched in. “I’m okay,” he reassures. “You didn’t have to do that.”

The room is too dark to properly read Tony’s expression, but Steve gets the feeling he’s doing his signature eyebrow-raise-of-disbelief.

Tony lets out a breath and levers himself out of his kneeling position, leaning his back against the wall near Steve, his legs splayed out across the floor. “Okay, so, this isn’t really my forte here, but…” He shrugs awkwardly and fiddles with his fingers. “Generally people who are fine don’t make a habit of crouching defensively in the corner of their room.” Steve’s hands tighten on his blanket and he bites the inside of his cheek. “Pepper keeps saying talking helps,” Tony continues. “So… so… do you wanna talk about it?”

Steve ducks his head in embarrassment and tugs his blanket around him tighter. He swallows and licks his lips. “I’m fine,” he says to his knees. “The party was really good, I enjoyed it, it’s just…” He presses his lips together and looks away.

Tony stays silent and Steve massages the blanket between his fingers. “It’s just,” he continues without turning his head. “The fireworks… I wasn’t really expecting it. I used to love fireworks as a kid, but now…”

“They’re triggering,” Tony says suddenly and Steve glances back at him.

“I… I don’t know,” he says honestly, not quite understanding the phrase. “But I kind of freaked out.” His cheeks heat and his eyes dart back to his knees.

“I’m pretty sure that’s okay—” Tony starts to say and Steve cuts him off.

“No it’s not,” he insists, glaring at him. “You can’t tell… you can’t tell anyone okay?” His chest tightens. “I promise I’ll be better but if Natasha and Clint tell SHIELD about this then they’ll take me off the team and we’ll lose our chance to beat Hydra so—”

“Woah, woah. Cap slow down,” Tony says, his hands waving in front of his face. “Okay. Just… just wait a second okay?

Steve pulls his mouth shut in an unhappy line and presses his shoulders into the corner behind him.

Tony takes a breath and massages the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so—” He cuts himself off with a self-deprecating laugh. “Okay, so heaven only knows that I’m not the best person for this sort of thing… just ask Pepper, she’ll tell you, but…” He blows out a breath and leans his head back against the wall behind him.

He seems to be struggling with his words, but it’s too dark to read his expression. The little light that the arc reactor gives off seems to only deepen the shadows on Tony’s face, so Steve has no choice but to sit and wait for the billionaire to figure out what he’s trying to say.

Tony’s fingers fidget, fiddling with the fabric of his jeans and he seems to be directing his next words to his knees rather than Steve. “I don’t know how much anyone’s talked to you about this sort of thing,” he says slowly. “And I’m not entirely sure how this sort of thing was dealt with back in your time…”

Steve swallows and rolls his shoulders. “What thing?” he asks roughly.

Tony waves his hand in Steve’s general direction. “This whole thing. Soldiers not doing too hot after coming home from the war.”

Steve’s stomach drops and clenches at the same time and he forces back an instinctive flinch. “I’m not… I’m not fatigued,” he snaps, hunching defensively. “I can still fight. I can still lead the Avengers, you don’t hafta report it—”

“No one’s saying you can’t fight okay?” Tony cuts in. “You’re not broken or anything Rogers, from what I know it’s a perfectly normal reaction to a traumatic event—” He cuts himself off and runs a hand through his hair, mumbling under his breath. “Geez, I’m making more progress now then I have since this whole thing started.”

“What?” Steve asks, causing Tony’s head to jerk up as he looks at him.

Tony mutters a quiet curse and lets out a dry laugh. “You think you’re the only one who freaks out Rogers?” he asks wryly. “I don’t know what your whole deal is, but I could probably match you one for one.”

“You…” Steve scans the darkened figure. “You don’t like fireworks?”

Tony shifts and shrugs. “Okay, fireworks aren’t really a problem for me, mostly it’s been… uh.” He ducks his head and his hands tighten on his legs. “I um…can’t sleep,” he finally admits quietly. “Turns out flying through a portal and almost dying in space is pretty traumatic so, I mostly spend my nights in my workshop.”

“Oh.” Steve swallows and tugs on his blanket. “Does… does Fury know?”

Tony glances away. “Don’t see how it’s much of his business but… I haven’t told him if that’s what you’re asking.” He tilts his head. “Haven’t told anyone really,” he says after a moment. “Pepper knows of course, we share the same bed…” He shrugs. “She want’s me to go see someone about it but…” His hand drifts and the light in the room flickers as he rubs at his arc reactor. “I’m not really good with the whole, talking-about-stuff before-I-self-destruct-shtick.”

Steve opens his mouth before getting completely side-tracked. “Shtick?” he asks bewildered.

Tony blinks at him. “Oh, uhh… thing. Routine,” he explains, waving one hand. “JARVIS?”

“Shtick is defined as ‘a gimmick, comic routine, style of performance, etc., associated with a particular person’,” JARVIS replies, causing Steve’s eyes to jump to the ceiling. “The term has German and Yiddish roots and seems to have been coined in the 60s.”

“Oh. Okay.” Steve swallows, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Thank you, JARVIS.”

“My pleasure Captain.”       

“So…” Steve says after a moment, glancing over at Tony. “There’s people… Pepper wants you to talk to someone?”

“Yeah.” Tony shrugs. “There’s doctors now that you can talk to, there’s different kinds of therapies I guess and…”

Steve doesn’t hear the rest of what Tony has to say, the genius’ words getting drowned out as his mind fills up with stories from his Ma about patients that had to be institutionalized and the therapies offered there.

“Hey, Cap. You still with me?”

Tony’s voice cuts into the fog of horror stories surrounding lobotomies, overcrowding and shock therapy and Steve flinches instinctively from the hand hovering by his face. “Don’t—” He warns frantically, darting out to grab the sleeve of Tony’s shirt. “Don’t. If the doc thinks you’re crazy then they’ll send you away, an’ once you get into one of those places you never come out.”

His breathing is rapid again and he can’t help the horrible thought of what would happen to Tony’s brain if they decide that surgery is necessary. Tony’s mind is amazing and the thought of ruining that level of genius is unimaginable.

This is my fault. He thinks irrationally. Tony got this way because of what happened in New York. If I had been faster, if I’d planned better, if it had been me that flew up, then he’d be fine and he wouldn’t be in danger—

“Okay,” Tony says slowly, placing his hand over where Steve is clinging to his sleeve. “Okay, so we’re just going to breathe for a second ‘coz I think we’re talking about two different things.”

Steve draws in a shuddery breath and releases it, his eyes focusing on the light of Tony’s arc reactor. Tony breathes too and the light moves up and down.

“Okay,” Tony says after a moment, sounding slightly calmer. “So, I think we’re not on the same wavelength here. What’s got you so worried?”

Steve swallows and his fingers tighten on the fabric of Tony’s sleeve. He’s not exactly sure why Tony’s not worried but he’ll explain if he has to.

“They’ll send you to an institution if they think you’re crazy,” he says softly, his shoulders hunching. “And the therapies there… they’re supposed to help you but,” his mouth twists. “My Ma told me about some of ‘em and I don’t think they’ll help you.” He can’t believe Pepper wants to send Tony away.

Tony curses suddenly and Steve’s eyes dart up as he runs one hand agitatedly through his hair while keeping the arm that Steve has claimed perfectly still.       

“Geez, they didn’t even tell you about—?” Tony sucks in a breath. “Okay, I’m not an expert or anything, but we don’t do that anymore, at least, not in America anyways.” He glances away and mutters something deprecating about SHIELD that Steve doesn’t quite catch before directing his voice towards JARVIS. “J? Can you give us a quick sum up about why I won’t be getting locked up any time soon?”

“Certainly Sir,” JARVIS responds tartly. “Institutions such as the ones you mentioned Captain, began to lose their popularity in the 1950’s and 60’s,” the AI explains. “This push for deinstitutionalization came mainly after the development of various antipsychotic drugs in the 50’s. Since then, many different drugs and therapies have been developed to enable mentally ill people to live and be successfully treated in the local community, rather than being indefinitely institutionalized.”

Steve’s mouth opens a little in shock. “So, people aren’t institutionalized anymore?” he asks stunned.

“Not necessarily,” JARVIS replies. “Patients are sometimes still institutionalized in hospitals, and a growing number of mentally ill end up in nursing homes or jails, however, institutionalization is generally a last resort and is not intended to be a long-term solution, thus various out-patient and preventative measures are common.”

“It’s not perfect,” Tony cuts in sounding tired. “But nobody’s going to torture you or lock you up because you’re having a little difficulty okay?”

Steve draws in another breath and lets his shoulders drop slightly, his eyes darting back and forth. “JARVIS said they have drugs now?” he asks uncertainly.

“Yup,” Tony says shrugging and Steve realises that he’s still holding onto the man’s sleeve. He doesn’t let go. “There’s pros and cons to the meds,” Tony explains. “But they can help, and there’s other stuff too, apparently talking through your issues with a therapist can be helpful.”

“Medication doesn’t work on me,” Steve states. “I metabolise it too quickly.”

Tony’s head jerks as he turns to look at him. “Wait, all of it?” he asks, sounding surprised. “What if you need to be sedated?”

Steve shrugs and looks away, drawing his knees closer to his chest and tugging on Tony’s arm in the process. “I don’t know if they have anything that can really knock me out for long,” he admits. “When I got shot during the war…they were worried I’d heal over it…” He glances up at Tony before darting his eyes away again.

“Wouldn’t your body push it out as you healed?” Tony asks, sounding dazed.

“We weren’t sure if it would or not, so they had to take it out right away.” Steve swallows tightly and focuses on the tops of his knees. “We already knew morphine wouldn’t do jack, and we didn’t want to waste the resources so…” His fingers tighten on Tony sleeve again. “Bucky gave me his belt to bite down on and I tried not to break his fingers.”    

“Geez,” Tony breathes, leaning his head back and for some reason Steve feels embarrassed.

Before he can say anything, Tony speaks up again. “You know,” he says, sounding pensive. “Bruce is a biochemist. If there’s anyone who could develop a drug that’d work on you, it’d be him.”

Steve ducks his head and the movement jostles Tony’s arm, but the man doesn’t complain. “It’s not that bad,” he protests. “We don’t have to go to all that trouble—”

“Uh uh. Nope,” Tony cuts in, waving his free arm, his eyes glinting with determination in the dim light. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. Nobody should have to be awake during surgery.” 

Steve closes his mouth a little stunned. “I… guess it couldn’t hurt,” he agrees finally.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Tony grumbles. “I can’t believe SHIELD isn’t already working on this. What would have happened if you’d gotten hurt in the field?”

Steve is pretty sure SHIELD has more important things to be doing than catering to one super soldier, but he doesn’t say that.   

“Okay, well… this has all been super enlightening,” Tony announces suddenly. “But I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to lose feeling in my legs… so I suggest that we maybe get off the floor and turn some lights on, what do you think?”

“Oh.” Steve blinks. “Right. Of course.” He lets go of Tony’s arm and starts to push himself up the wall, the blanket hanging loosely around his shoulders.

Tony stretches and pulls himself up, groaning as he cracks something in his back. “Nice, okay, JARVIS, can we have a little light in here?”

JARVIS doesn’t respond but the lights in Steve’s room slowly brighten, allowing for a warm but not overwhelming glow. Once the lights turn on, Steve can’t help but feel a little embarrassed about his recent heart-to-heart, for some reason it’s easier to be vulnerable with Tony in the dark.

“Thanks J,” Tony says, running a hand through his hair before turning to Steve. “I’ll talk to Bruce about the meds tomorrow,” he promises before hunching his shoulders just slightly and looking away. “Let me know if… if you need anything okay?”

“Okay,” Steve replies, his voice catching in his throat.

Tony nods before looking around a little awkwardly. “Okay well, I’ll let you sleep…” He glances up at Steve as if to make sure he’s alright.

Steve tries to school his face into something resembling ‘fine’ and nods, trying not to let on the fact that he’s probably not going to get much sleep tonight.

I guess Tony and I have that in common, he thinks as he follows Tony to the door of his apartment. He wonders quietly if Tony plans on sleeping tonight either. 

“Ah, Tony,” he says, just as the man opens the door to leave. Tony turns back and looks at him expectantly and Steve fidgets slightly with his blanket, finding he can’t quite meet his eyes. “Could you… I… know that I could be a liability but, I was hoping you wouldn’t tell anyone about this.” He clenches his jaw and stares resolutely at Tony’s right ear.

Tony is quiet for a second before rolling his shoulders and tilting his head. “Unless you’re about to hurt yourself or someone else…” He says slowly. “I don’t see why I’d need to tell anyone about this. It’s your business Rogers, just don’t—” His hand clenches on the doorknob. “Don’t be a stranger,” he says finally. “Look into the stuff I talked about at least… you don’t have to do this by yourself.”

Steve swallows and blinks away an image of Bucky, his hair slicked back, dressed in his best suit, smiling sadly at him.

“I can get by on my own.”

“Thing is… you don’t have to. I’m with you till the end of the line pal.”

“Yeah, okay,” he says tightly, a lump rising in his throat. “See you tomorrow.”

Tony stares at him for a second longer before offering him a half-smile. “Goodnight Cap.”

He doesn’t sleep that night, instead he spends most of it looking over the pictures that had come with Tony’s present. JARVIS says that he can order frames for all of them and Steve thinks that that would be nice, or maybe a photo album.

oOo

After his birthday, the months sort of blur together. He continues to work for SHIELD, completing the necessary combat and medical training before being assigned to the STRIKE team.

Everyone on the STRIKE team is Hydra and Steve sometimes has to resist the urge to simply lose it and break a few noses working with them. They all seem especially thrilled that even Captain America believes that their cause is just, and they can’t help bragging about how deep Hydra’s infiltrated things and the various ways they’ve influenced history.

Steve laughs and congratulates them on their ‘victories’, privately taking note of everything he hears and trying not to grind his teeth down listening to their enthusiasm.

Thankfully, Tony’s finally finishes renovating the tower and he doesn’t mind when Steve spends a few hours pounding on his punching bags. The engineer simply makes a note to reinforce the bags after Steve breaks the third one and by the next day, the bags are much stronger.

Steve feels a little guilty about that because it meant that Tony had stayed up all night redesigning them, but he figures that Tony would have been awake anyways given what the man had told him.

Another thing that Steve is thankful for is that, so far, Hydra hasn’t made him operate too far out of his comfort zone. He knows that sometimes the STRIKE team gets sent on missions for… different reasons than most people realise, but he’s beginning to see the horribly clever way Hydra has been able to dig in and manipulate everyone around them.

Most of the time, everything about his mission is completely authorized and he doesn’t have to cover for anyone, yet he knows that Hydra will benefit from the arrest of so-and-so or the seizing of such-and-such. Hydra is so well hidden that nobody sees them working even when it’s happening right under their noses.

Other times of course, he has to cover for the Hydra STRIKE members, ordering them to certain positions so as to not look suspicious to outside viewers.

Natasha and Clint are also both part-time members of the STRIKE team, and thankfully, Pierce confirms 100% that they are not Hydra operatives when he orders Steve to keep them in the dark about Hydra activity.

He doesn’t really feel great about lying to his teammates, but he and Tony still haven’t decided when would be a good time to drop that particular bomb.

On the one hand, it might make it easier to fool Hydra, if everyone’s on board, and they’d have more eyes and ears looking out for Hydra activity… On the other hand, it would be putting everyone in a lot more danger.

So, for now, Tony is Steve’s only collaborator. Together they go through and sort the growing amount of Hydra information that Steve is gathering, and they quietly decide what Avenger things Steve should report back to Hydra about.

And all along, the months just keep getting colder.

It’s not that that’s a problem really. It’s fine. It’s not like he can get sick anymore, he just… doesn’t really… enjoy the cold weather much.

His dreams centre almost entirely around the ice now, except for sometimes when he’s in the mountains, stumbling through a snowstorm, looking for Bucky.

In real life, they’d never gotten a chance to look. Hydra had been on the move and they’d had to act fast, but in his dreams, the voice of Other-Steve seems to haunt him.

“Bucky…is… alive.”

Steve requests a pair of gloves for his suit and Tony looks at him like he knows.

oOo

“Our timetable is moving up,” Pierce tells him proudly, his face shimmering and refracting from where it’s projected onto Steve’s wall. “Thanks to your involvement, we might be able to implement the final plan sooner then we thought.”

Steve smiles back and imagines punching Pierce like one of his punching bags. “That’s great,” he says instead, trying to look relieved. He finds in meetings like these, it’s easier to simply pull back a little mentally, so as to not get too worked up about what’s actually being said.

The end result leaves him feeling like he’s standing back and watching as he jumps through hoops and panders to Nazis, but it’s either that, or looking perpetually like he wants to murder someone so…

“The only problem is Stark,” Pierce continues, and Steve feels a spike of terror go through him. If Tony is a problem to Hydra, then they might decide to get rid of that problem… Steve thinks he might have to blow his cover if that happens.

“We need him to build something,” Pierce says, oblivious to Steve’s internal panic. “SHIELD’s already asked him to update their Helicarrier engines, but he’s… being difficult.” Pierce quirks a smile at Steve and Steve dips his head. “We were hoping you could convince him.”

“Tony can be… challenging,” Steve sighs, sounding put upon. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Pierce smiles thinly. “Thank you, Captain,” he ends his side of the phone connection and the projected image cuts off.

Steve lets out a real sigh and tilts his head back tiredly. He’s glad now, that he decided not to move to D.C. like SHIELD/Hydra had wanted, since it would have placed him even deeper in Hydra territory. As it is, he doesn’t have to have too many face-to-face meetings with the leader of Hydra.

That doesn’t change the fact that SHIELD headquarters are very much not in New York, and he, Clint, and Natasha have to spend way too much time commuting between the two places.

He’s thinking very seriously of simply renting out a temporary flat in D.C. in an effort to give himself somewhere to stay during SHIELD/Hydra missions. The place would probably get bugged within a day of signing the lease but… it’d be nice to have somewhere to stay while he’s in D.C.

He thinks Clint and Natasha must have some kind of place like that anyways because they seem to be staying somewhere. Neither Steve nor Hydra are sure where, but every few weeks Clint and Natasha go on leave and head off...somewhere.  

He had asked Clint about it once, partly because he had been concerned and partly because Hydra had wanted to know. Clint had shrugged and said he liked to ‘get out of town’ on his days off. Pierce hadn’t been happy with that explanation, but Steve had told him that it seemed as though Clint and Natasha were simply enjoying their days off somewhere where alien invasions couldn’t interrupt them.  

He sometimes wonders if Clint and Natasha are… together, but he can’t seem to get a straight answer about that from anyone. It seems as though everyone else is just as confused as he is in that area.

“Captain?” JARVIS’s voice cuts into Steve’s musing and he lifts his head, blinking up at the ceiling. “Are you quite alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” Steve replies. “Is Tony back yet?”

“Sir returned from his trip about an hour ago,” JARVIS states. “He is in his room.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, scrubbing his face with one hand. Sometimes he forgets that Tony also runs (co-runs?) a company. The man had just spent the last week at a conference and had been mostly out of touch. “Let him know that I need to talk to him,” he decides, exhaling tiredly.

“Certainly Captain,” JARVIS replies and a few moments go by before he pipes up again. “Sir has informed me that you may come up to his quarters.”

“Oh. Right. Okay,” Steve says, blinking a little in surprise. “I’ll be right up.”

On his way up in the elevator, he can’t help feeling nervous. While it makes sense for Tony to invite him up, (he probably suspected that they needed somewhere private to talk but was too tired from his trip to bother heading down to the lab), this would be the first time that he’s actually been in Tony’s rooms.

The doors ding open, startling Steve out of his thoughts, and he pushes himself up off the back wall, heading towards Tony’s apartment.

Tony’s rooms have a more elegant and cultured feel than his own. Immediately upon entering, he can tell that these are the rooms of someone who can afford to be comfortable. It’s not off putting though, despite how awkward he feels, lingering in the doorway.

“Come in!” Tony calls, from somewhere deeper in the apartment and Steve makes his way out of the entryway. It opens up into a spacious living room and bar, and Steve goes over to stand by a ring of couches facing a flat screen TV.

“Hey Cap,” Tony says, appearing in a doorway off to the side. “JARVIS said you needed to talk?”

“Yeah,” Steve says dropping down onto one of the couches and eyeing Tony. The man’s still dressed for his business trip, although he’s shed his jacket and tie. “How was your trip?” he asks conversationally as Tony goes over to the bar and pours himself something.

“Tedious,” Tony replies bluntly, coming back to lounge on the couch. “But I knew that before I left.” He takes a sip of his drink before glancing over at Steve. “I got a call from Fury about midway through the week.” He gives him a crooked smile. “He wanted me to build engines for SHIELD, but due to the whole, SHIELD being a cover for Hydra, I’m not particularly inclined to build anything for them right now.”

Steve offers his own half-smile. “Yeah I know,” he says dryly before leaning his head back on the couch. “Hydra wants me to convince you to build the stuff.”

Tony’s mouth twists and he takes another drink. “Great,” he drones sardonically. “Any idea why?”

Steve sighs and slouches a little on the couch. “Pierce said their timetable is moving up,” he replies tiredly. “They want whatever you’re building for it but… I don’t know what they’re planning exactly.”

Tony blows out an annoyed breath and the ice cubes in his glass rattle. “So?” he asks after a moment. “What’s your call?”

Steve glances gratefully over at Tony—who currently seems to be deeply engaged with staring into the bottom of his glass. He knows how hard Tony has fought to keep his weapons and tools out of the wrong hands, and the fact the he’s willing to let Steve call the shots on this shows just how far they’ve come since their first meeting on the Helicarrier.

He runs a hand through his hair and mentally curses Hydra for putting him in this position. “We don’t know what Hydra’s planning,” he says slowly. “And as we’ve seen, unless we manage to burn everything, Hydra’s going to keep coming, so we need to know who we’re fighting before we strike.”

Before he can continue, JARVIS cuts in. “Mr. Barton is traversing the ventilation system above this room.” Both he and Tony drop the conversation and look up, as if by doing so they could see the resident archer making his way unnecessarily through the ceiling ducts. After a few minutes, JARVIS speaks up again. “The coast is now clear.”  

Steve blows out a breath and looks back over at Tony, picking up where they left off. “We can’t fight them if we don’t know what they’re going to do,” he says. “If you don’t build this for them, then they’ll find something else that we don’t know about.”

Tony scoffs and glares at the now empty glass in his hand. “Yeah,” he says bitterly. “I kinda thought that’s what you’d say.” He bites his lip and stares off into the middle distance. “I suppose...” He says after a moment. “Hydra would probably be pretty happy with you if you managed to convince me to build their stuff… it’d help build up their confidence in you.”

Steve glances down at his lap and fiddles with his fingers. “It would be a good bone to throw to them,” he agrees slowly. “And it would help them think that the Avengers are not a threat.”

Tony closes his eyes and leans his head back against the couch. “Honestly. Screw Hydra,” he spits out tiredly.

Steve lets out a laugh that might be edging on a bit hysterical. “Yeah,” he responds, trying to clamp down on his fraying emotions. “Screw them.”

Tony glances over at him out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll build it,” he says finally. “Maybe that way, we can have some sort of failsafe in there.”  

Steve slumps down on the couch and closes his eyes, hoping that they haven’t just made a horrible mistake. “Thank you, Tony,” he says. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for what their plan is.”

“Thank me after we’ve burned these scaly bastards down,” Tony responds, getting up from the couch and heading over to the bar again. “Isn’t that the way the story goes? Cut off the head and burn the stump?”  

Yeah, Steve thinks darkly. Let’s just hope we can find all the heads.  

Chapter Text

The construction of the Helicarriers begins and Steve learns that if it hadn’t been for Hydra, he wouldn’t have even been cleared by SHIELD to know about them at all.

The thought is not particularly comforting.

Building Helicarriers, as it turns out, takes quite a while. (It doesn’t help that every once and a while Tony decides to revamp all his plans, just to throw SHIELD/Hydra for a loop).

In the meantime, Tony helps Steve pick out a temporary flat to stay at in D.C. (It’s bugged within a week, which was longer than he was expecting) and he and Bruce continue to work on developing a sedative that would work with Steve’s super soldier metabolism.

Steve is so focused on ducking around SHIELD and Hydra that he almost doesn’t notice when Christmas comes around. (Although the drop in temperature is hard to miss.) Both Clint and Natasha make their apologies but claim they can’t stay in the tower for the holidays. Steve still doesn’t know where they run off to, but they leave presents for everyone under the communal tree set up in the common room.

The tree had mostly been Pepper’s idea, although Steve suspects that Tony had been the one who picked it out since the thing is huge, the star at the top almost brushing the ceiling.

Thor claims to know a similar celebration back on Asgard and joins in on the festivities with enthusiasm, although ultimately, he chooses to spend the day with Jane, so Steve, Bruce and Tony are the only Avengers in the tower for Christmas day.

It’s not so bad though, Pepper’s there, and another friend of Tony’s, James Rhodes (or Rhodey as Tony seems to call him most often), joins them about halfway through. They watch The Muppet Christmas Carol because apparently, it’s a classic, and Steve enjoys it because even though he hadn’t grown up with the Muppets, he still knows the Christmas Carol story and can follow along pretty well.

Rhodey shows up again for New Years Eve and this time Natasha joins them as well (Clint has ‘prior arrangements’, whatever that means). Tony sits them all down after lunch to watch the extended additions of The Lord of the Rings, because, a) He learned that Steve had yet to see them, and b) If they start watching at exactly 1:03:26pm, the Ring would fall into the fires of Mount Doom at exactly midnight.

The day is filled with popcorn and frantic pee breaks and it isn’t until afterwards that Steve realises that fireworks hadn’t even been mentioned once.

All in all, it’s nice to have a chance to relax with the Avengers and the whole season seems to act as a refreshing break from dealing with Hydra.

Of course, things never stay that way.

About a week after New Years, the tower awakens to find a giant black raven sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Ah,” Thor says, managing to sound both happy and saddened by the sight. “My father will send for me soon.”

“What?” Tony asks, holding on to his coffee cup possessively, his eyes suspiciously tracking the bird currently taking over his counter.

“This is Huginn,” Thor says, as though that explains everything, before cocking his arm and letting the giant bird fly over and land on his elbow. “My father’s messenger bird,” he explains further, stroking his fingers over the bird’s head and looking pensive.

“Riiight,” Tony says slowly as the other occupants of the tower edge around him, trying to keep an eye on the bird and get their breakfast at the same time.

“What’s it want?” Clint asks blearily, snagging the entire coffee pot from Bruce and taking a drink.

Thor smiles half-heartedly and Steve is suddenly reminded that the god is much, much older than they are. “I believe it is here to warn me that my father will soon be able to conjure me home,” Thor says lightly, though his eyes are distant.

“Right,” Tony mumbles into his coffee. “’Coz the magic bridge is still broken.”

“Aye,” Thor says, letting the bird hop off his arm and making his way to where his pop-tarts are stored in the cupboard. “If we had obtained the Tesseract, then we might have fixed it faster…” He trails off and everyone collectively tries not to think about the fact that Loki is technically still out there, with the Tesseract.

Thor sighs and breaks off bits of his pop-tart before scattering them on the counter next to the raven. “It takes a large amount of power to move someone between worlds without the Bifrost,” he explains quietly. “And I have neglected my duties as crown prince during my time here…” He swallows and dusts off his hands, not looking at any of them. “I do not believe I will be able to return to you for quite some time, my friends.”

Thor looks almost miserable and Steve moves to pat his shoulder. “You do what you need to do,” he says. “We’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

Thor smiles gratefully and clasps Steve’s shoulder as well. “Thank you, Captain,” he rumbles. “It has been an honour to fight among such worthy companions.”  

After a rather subdued breakfast, Thor wastes no time in gathering his things (including at least six boxes of pop-tarts) and flying off to say goodbye to Jane.

They get a call later that night from a brown haired woman, telling them that Thor had, as she puts it, ‘just beamed up to Asgard’, and Steve can’t help feeling a little sad at the loss of one of his newfound friends.

Little did he know that he would soon be reuniting with a much older friend.

oOo

He’s just returning from a STRIKE mission a week or so later when Pierce calls him and requests a meeting. Steve very carefully does not sigh at the request and is sure to smile politely as he shakes hands with the man.

“Captain,” Pierce says, standing next to his office desk. “We feel it is time to introduce you to someone.”

“Sir?” Steve asks, feeling a little apprehensive as he always does whenever Hydra decides to change up its M.O.

Pierce smiles sharp as a knife and makes his way over to his office door. “Hydra has many allies Captain,” he says as Steve steps towards him. “We think it time for you to meet one of our greatest ones.”

Steve feels both a thrill of excitement and unease at the idea of discovering more Hydra ties, and he swallows tightly as he follows Pierce out of the office and down to the Triskelion garage. Apparently, they have to meet their ally out of house.

Pierce drives the car and Steve tries not to be too tense. He can’t help feeling like he’s walking into a den of thieves. “This… ally has worked with Hydra for a very long time,” Pierce says conversationally as he turns a corner. “We feel that you two will… work well together.”

“Yes sir,” Steve says, hoping that Hydra isn’t planning to start sending him on more… dirtier missions.

Pierce smiles at him and Steve shifts his shield to rest more firmly against his legs. He hadn’t had time to change out of his suit before his meeting with Pierce so he’s still in full uniform.

Pierce pulls around the back of what seems to be a bank, and shuts off the car. He turns to Steve looking almost cautious. “Sometimes, for the greater good… sacrifices must be made,” he says cryptically.

Steve swallows and nods, his stomach clenching at the ominous words. He’s heard that bit of propaganda before. “Yes sir,” he says again. “Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra,” Pierce seems to relax. “I’m sure you’ll understand once you see all that we’ve managed to accomplish,” he says with a pleasant smile.

Steve’s skin crawls.    

They get out of the car and he shifts his shield onto his back before they head into the bank. He can hear the normal everyday sounds of patrons and bank tellers, but it quickly becomes obvious that the bank is a front for a Hydra base.

His stomach clenches with anxiety as Pierce leads him down into the basement of the building and he wonders briefly if he’ll make it out again in one piece. Tony’s tracking me, he thinks, trying to reassure himself. He’ll get me out if things go pear-shaped.

Pierce leads him into a dimly lit vault and members of the STRIKE team line the walls in full gear. A strange looking chair attached to wires and monitors sits in the middle of the room. 

They know, Steve thinks frantically, eyeing their guns. They know I’m a fraud and they’re going to kill me right now. His heartbeat speeds up and his sensitive ears pick up the sped-up sounds of the heartbeats around him. They’re nervous too, he thinks grimly as he scans the room. Well. Good.  

“Is the Asset ready?” Pierce asks Rollins, distracting Steve from his getaway planning.

“Rumlow’s getting him,” Rollins replies gruffly, and Pierce relaxes.

“Good,” he says looking pleased.

The Asset? Steve thinks warily, subtly shifting into a defensive stance. Is that some sort of codename?

He doesn’t have much time to wonder because he soon hears two sets of footsteps coming closer. He glances up towards the nearby doorway, his brows furling. He recognizes the one set as Rumlow’s, but the other is foreign. They seem to be more hesitant than Rumlow’s, shuffling and stumbling a little as they walk.

The STRIKE agents in the room tense and Steve tenses along with them. Whoever’s coming, he’s not sure he wants to meet them.

Rumlow appears first, his hand on his gun and his body half turned back towards the hall. His face is turned away, so Steve can’t read his usual sour expression, but he can tell from the set of his shoulders that the man is nervous.

He steps fully into the room and is followed closely by—

Steve’s mind shuts off.

He thinks he maybe stops breathing.

Behind Rumlow is a man. He’s in all black, but the short sleeves of his shirt do nothing to hide the silver metal of his left arm. He keeps his head ducked as he enters and his hair is long, the strands wet and tangled by his face. He shivers slightly and stumbles to a halt just behind Rumlow, his eyes staring vacantly ahead. The way he stands there, it looks almost as if he’s empty, like a statue, he looks… he looks like…

“Bucky?” Steve chokes out and the world sways slightly.

Bucky doesn’t look up. He doesn’t even blink.    

“Bucky… is… alive.” Other-Steve gasps out.

“Asset. Go sit,” Pierce orders and Steve feels oddly detached as he watches his best friend mindlessly walk over to the strange chair before settling in and continuing to stare vacantly ahead.

Pierce turns to him, looking almost triumphant. “You’re correct when you recognized him as Sergeant Barnes, Captain,” he informs him blandly, as though Steve’s world isn’t being flipped upside down. “However, now he is known as the Asset, or the Winter Soldier.”

Steve opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He’s vaguely aware, on some level, that he’s currently surrounded by Hydra agents and that he should probably be very careful about how he reacts right now but…

He can’t stop thinking about how empty Bucky looks.

“How is this possible?” he snaps. His mind finally coming into gear. “Bucky died. I was there.”

Pierce smiles and it takes everything in Steve not to whip off his shield and break a few teeth in that smug expression. “Barnes was found by the Red Army,” Pierce explains. “As it turns out, Zola experimented with the serum on Barnes before he was rescued by you in ’43.”

Steve’s eyes widen as he thinks back to the damp and dark Hydra base, Bucky strapped to a table, mumbling his name and rank over and over…

“After the Red Army found Barnes, they continued with Zola’s initial experiments,” Pierce continues. “He was… resistant at first,” he admits, and Steve feels a jolt of almost blinding fury race through him. “But he was soon brought under control and has been working to further Hydra’s mission ever since.”

Steve turns to where Bucky is sitting placidly in the chair and stumbles forward half a step, his mind reeling. Around him, the room tenses and his mind jolts into clarity as he remembers where he is, what he is doing, and who he is with.

Hydra knows the history between me and Buck, he thinks as he carefully relaxes and tries to appear non-threatening. They might think I’m Hydra, but they’re still going to be prepared for me to fly off the handle about this.

That raises the question then, of why Hydra would risk showing Bucky to him. They’d managed to keep him a secret up until now, so they had to be planning something.

Something big is coming, he thinks grimly before turning to Pierce.

“What happened to him?” he asks, keeping his voice hard and level.

Pierce places his hands in his pockets and manages to look nonchalant and apologetic at the same time. “Unfortunately, Captain,” he says. “Barnes did not see reason like you have, and was quite… averse to joining with Hydra.”

I bet he was, Steve thinks darkly, fighting to keep a neutral expression on his face.

“Fortunately,” Pierce gestures to where Bucky is sitting. “After Zola was recruited by SHIELD, he was able to continue Hydra’s work, and design a method to keep the Asset under control.”

Steve swallows back the bitter stab he feels every time he hears about how Hydra managed to infiltrate SHIELD. SHIELD was supposed to be a good thing, something that Peggy and Howard had created to help people. Instead Hydra had turned it into a sham.

Pierce steps closer to the chair and Bucky. “I’m afraid the Asset is no longer the man you knew Captain,” he says, almost managing to sound regretful. “Zola designed this chair to wipe the memories of the Asset and enable him to be programed and conditioned.”

“Programed?” Steve asks, bile rising in his throat.

Pierce turns to face him, looking both calm and in control. “Because the Asset has no memory beyond the skills he’s been conditioned with, he makes the perfect weapon.” Pierce glances down at Bucky. “However, he does need to be… handled properly. He has no memory of acting outside of orders.”   

“So he’s…” Steve swallows. “He’s like a puppet.”

Pierce smiles, his face hollow under the yellow lights of the vault. “He’s like a very dangerous gun Captain, waiting to be pointed and shot.”

Steve has to blink away another wave of fury and he breathes carefully, thinking back to what Pierce had said to him in the car.

“Sometimes, for the greater good… sacrifices must be made.”

“I’m sure you’ll understand once you see all that we’ve managed to accomplish.”

Exploding right now is not going to help anyone, he thinks as he stares at Bucky. In the chair, Bucky’s eyes flick up to meet his for half a second before darting away again.

“I’m sure…” Steve says slowly. “I’m sure if he could see the good he’s done, he would be proud to be part of Hydra.”

He can feel the tension start to ebb out of the room as the Hydra agents around him slowly start to relax.

‘Ahh, now he’s got it’, he can almost hear them think. ‘He understands that we are doing what’s best’.

Steve draws his mouth into a grim line and makes a note of every agent in the room. This isn’t over, he thinks at them. If you think I’m okay with this then you’re stupider than I thought.

He turns to Pierce. “What do you want me to do?”

oOo

After his meeting with Hydra, Steve operates on automatic.

He heads back to his D.C. apartment, says hello to his neighbor and packs his duffel bag so he’s ready to leave for New York in the morning. (He shoves the file Hydra gave him on Bucky to the very bottom; he’s not ready to read it yet).

He checks his apartment for any new bugs. (Nothing besides the mics that were already there).

He turns on the shower and curls up on the floor of the tub. The water is scalding hot, but he can barely feel it. He stays there, staring blankly ahead of him, until the water runs cold.

“We think you’d make a good handler for him,” Pierce had said. “He’ll probably respond well to you and make things easier for us.”

“You ready to follow ‘Captain America’ into the jaws of death?”

“That little guy from Brooklyn who was too… dumb not to runaway from a fight. I’m following him.”

He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t even try, and the next day he heads out, bright and early, to SHIELD headquarters to be picked up by one of Tony’s jets.

People greet him along his way, and he tries to respond in kind, but he feels numb inside, like he’s watching himself go through the motions. He zones out completely on the plane, the image of Bucky’s blank face never far from his mind.

The plane lands and he exits robotically, his duffel bag and the file it carries feeling like a million pounds and his skin crawls when it bumps into him.

For some reason it takes him a second to figure out how to open the sliding door next to the landing pad and he stumbles as he makes his way into the common room. Thankfully, no one’s currently there to see his less than dignified return (he doesn’t think he has the mental capacity to deal with covering for the Avengers right now) and he makes his unsteady way to the elevator unseen.

Being back in Avengers tower is usually a relief after dealing with Hydra because it’s the one place where he doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to be Captain America or a Hydra agent. Today he doesn’t feel that, today he feels…

His hand shakes as he presses the elevator button and he can feel something akin to hysteria try to start clawing its way up his throat.

He closes his eyes against the image of Bucky sitting in the chair.

By the time JARVIS calls up the elevator his breath is tight and can’t seem to stop coming in pants. He stumbles into the lift and ducks his head, biting the inside of his lip, trying to breathe deeper.

His hand clutches at the strap of the duffel bag like a vise and he slumps against the wall, his vision blurring before he sinks down to the floor.

The scene from the bank swims in front of his eyes and his breath catches.

Bucky hadn’t even known him.

Bucky hadn’t even—

“I’m afraid the Asset is no longer the man you knew Captain.”

The elevator starts moving without him telling it to and Steve finds he can’t be bothered about that right now because he’s finding it rather difficult to breathe actually.

He jerks the duffel bag off and shoves it away from him in frustration before ducking his head down into his knees, his hands tangling in his hair.

This— this is worse than the fireworks, worse than waking up in a fake room 70 years in the future—

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe–   

“Steve?”

His head jerks up from his knees and he finds Tony kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with concern.

One of Steve’s hands migrates down to claw at his chest and he gasps for breath. He hadn’t noticed the elevator stopping, how had Tony—

He catches a glimpse of the lab over Tony’s shoulder and a small corner of his mind realises that JARVIS must have taken him down here himself.

“Ton—” He gasps out. “Cn’t—” He hunches over his knees again, his hand tugging at his hair.

Tony looks slightly panicked himself, but he wastes no time in drawing closer to Steve in the elevator. “Hey,” he says tightly, placing a hand on Steve’s shoe. “You’re gonna be okay, Steve, just breathe with me okay?”

Tony takes in a breath, holds it, and lets it out again. “Like that, see?” he says, his hand squeezing Steve’s foot. “Try with me, okay?”

“Can’t—” Steve tries to copy him. “Can’t breathe—”

“I know Steve,” Tony says intently. “I know it’s scary, you’re doing good, let’s try again.”

They try again and Tony starts counting the breaths. “That’s good Steve,” he says. “Keep going, you’re okay.”

“You’re okay,” Bucky says, his hand on his back. “S’keep breathing with me Stevie, you’re okay.”

Something shatters in Steve and his next breath comes out as a sob. The next thing he knows, he’s gasping for air again as tears start streaming down his face.

“Hey, hey Steve,” Tony says worriedly, coming to crouch by his side. “It’s okay –”

Steve wordlessly shakes his head. It’s not okay, it’ll never be okay, Bucky’s—

Another sob tears its way out of his throat.

He’s not sure how long he spends in the elevator.

At one point, Tony manages to get him up, still shivering and shaking and crying, and leads him over to the couch in the lab. He collapses down onto it, his vision completely obscured by tears, barely registering the blanket that Tony drapes over him.

He hasn’t cried this much since Bucky died the first time, and that thought sends him spiraling into another round of tears. He cries so hard he starts to hyperventilate a little, his breath coming in huge shuddery gasps as his body tries to regulate his breathing.

Tony stays for the whole time, his face tight with anxiety as he brings over one of his rolling chairs so he can sit next to where Steve is curled up on the end of the couch.

Gradually, and with several setbacks, the crying eases and Steve manages to calm down to mere shudders and sniffles.

Once it seems as though Steve is somewhat in control again, Tony pushes himself off his chair and steps over to the ‘re-fueling’ corner of the lab. He returns a moment later with a steaming mug in each hand.

 Steve’s breath is still shaky, and his hands tremble slightly as he reaches for the mug but he’s grateful for the warmth it offers. It’s not coffee like he would have expected, but one of Bruce’s teas that must have snuck its way down here during one of his many sessions in Tony’s labs.

Steve sips the tea and wipes at his face with the inside of his elbow. His eyes feel hot and puffy and when he swallows, his throat feels raw and tight with emotion.

He shudders out a breath again and sniffs his clogged nose a little. A beeping to his right makes him look up and he sees DUM-E inching forward, somehow managing to look distressed despite not having a face and holding a box of tissues in his claw.

“Thanks,” he says thickly, reaching over to grab a few of the tissues.

He wipes his face and blows his nose a few times before burrowing deeper into his blanket, a wave of exhaustion settling over him.

He sees Tony sip his tea out of the corner of his eye and he glances over.

“Bad day at the office I take it?” Tony asks carefully and Steve huffs out something too sharp to be a laugh.

“You have no idea,” he rasps, curling his hands around his mug.

Tony lets them sit in silence for a few minutes, something which Steve is grateful for.

“I know where a new Hydra base is,” he admits finally, staring into the bottom of his mug.

“Oh?” Tony asks, letting Steve lead the conversation.

Steve shivers and pulls the blanket around him tighter. “Yesterday, Pierce called me in after my mission.” He presses his lips together. “He said… he wanted me to meet one of their ‘allies’.”

Tony scans him and shifts forward on his chair. “What happened?”

Steve swallows and his stomach twists. “We… we went to the… the Ideal Federal Savings Bank, in D.C.? You know the…?” He looks up and Tony nods.

Steve lets out a breath. “Well that’s a front for a Hydra base so, don’t keep your retirement savings there.”

Tony cracks a small smile at that but otherwise stays silent.

Steve takes a deep breath and notices that his hands are shaking harder now. “Where’s my bag?” he asks suddenly, looking around.

Tony’s brow furls but he gets up from his chair and heads back towards the elevator, returning a minute later with Steve’s duffel bag over his shoulder.

Steve hunches his shoulders and draws his knees up onto the couch, his hands clasped protectively around his mug. “In there, there’s a… a file. At the bottom. Can you grab it?”

Tony shoots him a concerned look but unzips the bag anyways, rooting around until he pulls out the thick Hydra file.

“This?” he asks, eyeing the thing.

Steve’s breath catches for a second and he breathes deeply. “Yeah, it’s… it’s from Hydra. It’s their file on…” He swallows. “On their ‘ally’.”

Tony sets down Steve’s bag carefully and sits down on his chair again, the file placed gingerly on his lap.

Steve nods at the file, “I haven’t… read it yet. I couldn’t—” He presses his lips together and gestures for Tony to open the folder. “You’ll see,” he says miserably, draining the last of his tea from his cup.

Tony gives him one last look before turning his eyes to the folder, flipping it open to reveal the first page.

The room is silent save the rustling of papers as Tony thumbs through the first several pages in the file. He looks up at Steve. “Is this…”

Steve flinches. “It’s Bucky,” he bursts out, his whole body coiled up tightly on the couch, his eyes fixed resolutely on the rim of his mug. “Other-Steve was right. Bucky’s alive and he’s…” His breath shudders a little and he swallows down a fresh wave of tears.  

Tony flips the file closed and stares at Steve with something close to horror. “How is that even… how is he even alive?” he asks bewildered.

“He was experimented on by Hydra during the war,” Steve explains tiredly, and Tony’s eyes widen in understanding. “Hydra found him after he fell and they…” Steve’s hands clench around his cup and he swallows sharply.

DUM-E rolls closer and clumsily places his claw on Steve’s foot. Steve offers him a watery smile.

He draws in a breath and turns back to Tony. “They have a machine that wipes his memories,” he explains tightly. “He doesn’t remember me.” His stomach clenches and he grits his teeth. “He doesn’t remember anything accept for working for Hydra and… and he’s hardly their ally.” He spits the word out disdainfully.

“They keep him in cryofreeze whenever he isn’t ‘active’,” he continues sharply, glaring into the space in front of him. “And they shove him back in whenever his mission’s over, like some kind of demented toy—” His throat closes and he chokes off, wishing he still had some tea left in his mug.    

Beside him Tony curses quietly. “No wonder you’re a wreck,” he says softly.

Steve barks out a laugh. “Yeah, well… couldn’t fall apart back in D.C.,” he says ruefully. “The apartment’s bugged to high heaven.” He looks down and fiddles with his empty mug. “Hydra wants me to…” He twitches. “Bucky needs a… handler, out in the field and Hydra wants me to…”

“They’re going to make you order around your best-friend-turned-attack-dog?” Tony asks aghast.

Steve shivers and nods. “He follows the orders he’s given,” he says flatly. “But they think he’ll follow me even better and—” He ducks his head and pulls his elbows in towards himself, squeezing his eyes shut. “I should have looked for him,” he bites out. “Bucky’s been their prisoner for 70 years and I didn’t even look–”

“Hey now,” Tony says, reaching forward suddenly and shaking Steve’s knee. “This is not your fault okay? This is Hydra and Nazis and sadistic bastards alright?”

Steve clenches his teeth and doesn’t look up. “Bucky’s alive but he’s not – he doesn’t even know me.”

Tony’s hand tightens on his knee. “Maybe now,” he says. “But maybe not forever.”

Steve glances up at him in surprise.

“You said they have a machine, right?” Tony continues, his gaze intense. “Something there that wipes his memories?” Steve nods a little uncertainly and Tony sits back looking satisfied. “Well,” he sweeps his hands out. “It’s been seventy years, right? Why bother having the thing now if they’re not worried about him remembering stuff?”

Steve opens his mouth in shock. “I… Pierce did say they have to wipe him after every mission, just in case.”

Tony nods before giving Steve a determined look. “I don’t know if your friend will ever be who he used to be,” he says carefully. “But I wouldn’t give up on him just yet.”

Steve’s hands clench on his cup and he raises his chin. “Of course not,” he says, his eyes hard. “I think Hydra will live to regret ever having met Bucky Barnes.”

Tony’s eyes scan Steve’s dark expression. “Yeah, I think so too,” he agrees quietly.

Chapter Text

Tony insists they wait a day to read the file.

“Give yourself a break Cap,” he says when Steve mentions the impending folder. “We’ve had enough upsets for one day.”

Steve can’t help but agree and he feels a wave of relief at being allowed to postpone the file for just a little longer. He knows that he’s going to have to read it eventually, but that doesn’t mean that he really wants to.

“I don’t know what to do,” he tells Tony from his spot on the couch. “I hate the idea of working with Hydra knowing what they’re doing to Bucky but…” He scowls. “We’re so close to figuring out what Hydra’s endgame is…” He chews on the inside of his cheek.

Tony gets up and starts tinkering with something at a nearby table, his knuckles turning white as he grips a screwdriver and taps it while he thinks. “Breaking cover and rescuing Bucky would only be a temporary solution,” he says finally.

Steve’s stomach drops and he nods dejectedly. “I know,” he says quietly. “Bucky won’t be safe unless we burn down all of Hydra, and we can’t do that if we don’t know where to aim.”

Tony swallows heavily and gives Steve a determined look. “We’ll get him out as soon as we can,” he promises, he’s eyes scanning Steve before he looks down and fiddles with his screwdriver. “…You let me know if it gets too much, yeah? Playing Hydra’s toy-soldier.”

Steve ducks his head, his cheeks heating a little in embarrassment. “Yeah,” he says tightly before clearing his throat and giving Tony a lopsided smile. “I’ll do my best not to lose it and go postal on Pierce.”

Tony sends him his own crooked smile. “We all know he’d deserve it,” he grumbles pointedly.

Steve huffs out a laugh and settles back on the couch to watch as Tony gets up and starts messing around in his lab. The sounds of Tony’s personal stream of consciousness and griping at an overenthusiastic DUM-E acts as a balm to his shaky nerves.

Neither of them end up sleeping much that night, but they do consume vast amounts of tea and DUM-E sprays Tony with the fire extinguisher at least once.

oOo

The next day they both get up and go through their separate morning routines, and Steve can feel the Hydra file sitting and festering in the back of his mind through the entirety of his morning run.

He finds himself back in Tony’s lab a little after lunch, unable to eat much and unable to put it off any further. With a sigh and a growing sense of trepidation, he snatches up the folder from where they’d left it and sits himself down at one of Tony’s tables before flipping the thing open.

It’s only five minutes later that he has to stand up and walk around the lab, his hands clenching compulsively and bile rising in his throat at the clinical descriptions of outright torture that Bucky has gone through.

The file is extensive and he’s barely even scratched the surface yet.

After Tony finds him zoning out for the third time, his brain desperately trying to distance himself from the horrors on the page, he decides to intervene.

“Okay,” Tony says flatly, sitting down across from Steve and startling him out of his thousand-yard stare.  “This isn’t working out.”

Steve blinks down at the page in front of him, unable to recall what exactly it had said. He rubs at his eyes with the palm of his hand and sighs shakily. “I need to read it.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, reaching over for the file and dividing its contents in half. “No one said you had to do it alone, Capsicle.”

Steve stares at him dumbly and Tony hands back half of the file.

“We’ll both read it,” Tony decides. “One half, then the other.” He gives Steve a resigned look. “Heaven knows I’m probably gonna hafta read it anyways.”

Steve ducks his head. “Thank you, Tony,” he says softly as he straightens his papers and Tony waves his hand as if it’s no big deal.

They continue like that in silence for a while, and for some reason, knowing that someone else understands exactly what he has to read helps keep him focused and present.

The first part of the file seems to focus mainly on the training and programing of the Winter Soldier while the later sections start outlining the various missions he’d been sent on. He’s just finishing reading about the Winter Soldier’s actions during the Vietnam War and the effects of Agent Orange on his systems when he notices that Tony had gone completely pale, his eyes riveted on the page in his hand.

“Tony?” he asks cautiously. “What happened? What did you find?”

Tony’s eyes snap up to his, looking haunted and he swallows tightly. His mouth opens but no sound comes out, and in the end, he simply passes the page over with a shaking hand.

Steve’s eyes scan the page and a growing pit of horror slowly opens up in his stomach.

Date: December 16, 1991

Mission: Sanction and Extract – No Witnesses

Target: Maria and Howard Stark – Super Soldier Serum

Damage Report: None

Mission Status: Complete

Notes:  Targets Maria and Howard Stark – eliminated

                Super Soldier Serum – acquired, reference Project Winter Soldiers, file #4352

Soldier performed poorly, completing the mission in sight of a security camera. Security footage was recovered and returned to base for analysis. Further conditioning may be required.  

There are four attached photos, two profile shots of Howard and Maria Stark, one of a grainy image of a crashed car and one of a suitcase holding five bags of blue fluid.       

Steve looks up at Tony, his mouth dry. “Ton—”

“Just–” Tony holds up his hand and breathes in sharply through his teeth. “Just. Give me a second here, okay?” His voice wavers on the last word and Steve’s stomach twists. He nods and sets the paper down, pressing the palms of his hands into his eye sockets.

He hears Tony swallow and push away from the table. “I need a break,” he announces before heading out of the lab.  

Steve lets him go, letting out a shuddery breath and clenching his teeth before leaning forward and resting his forehead on the cool metal of the table.

He’d known Howard had died. One of the first things SHIELD had done was give him a file full of the people he’d known from the war, every one but Peggy’s stamped DECEASED in bright red letters.

He’d known Howard had died. But he hadn’t known how.

He closes his eyes against the image of the crumpled car. Hydra had sent Bucky on that mission, Hydra had sent Bucky to kill Howard and his wife and he–

Steve feels a sudden wave of nausea at the realisation that, at some point, if they rescue Bucky, he might remember this. He’s going to have to remember killing one of his friends and— if the file is implying what Steve thinks it is— being punished afterwards for not doing it well enough.

Steve swallows thickly and tries to shove those thoughts from his mind. If that happens, then he’ll figure out how to deal with it later, but right now he has a friend who’s just discovered that his parents were deliberately assassinated.

He lets out a breath and sits up. He doesn’t really know how open Tony will be to him right now, but he can’t help thinking back to how Tony had helped him through his own breakdown yesterday. He has to at least try.

“JARVIS?” he asks quietly. “Where’s Tony right now?”

“Sir has returned to his room,” JARVIS replies, sounding a little more somber than usual.

“Can…” Steve looks down and fiddles with one of the papers on the table. “Can you ask him if I can come up? Or… or if there’s anything I can do?”

JARVIS is silent for a moment—giving Steve a chance to second guess everything—before replying. “Sir has granted you permission to come to his rooms.”

Steve actually blinks in surprise at that, a part of him not quite expecting to have his offer be accepted. He pushes himself up from the table and breathes out slowly. “Thanks JARVIS,” he says softly as he heads over to the elevator.  

Anxiety twists in his stomach as he heads up and he wipes his sweaty hands on his pants. His mouth feels dry as the doors to the elevator open and he hesitates as he enters Tony’s apartment. Unlike last time, the rooms are dark, and the windows shuttered, leaving Steve to make his way carefully through the dim interior, his eyes scanning for the resident genius.

His ears pick up Tony’s breathing before he sees him, and he finds Tony sitting on the floor behind the bar, the arc reactor prominent in the gloom and a glass of something dark in his hand. He doesn’t have the bottle of whatever it is near him and he doesn’t look or smell drunk, so Steve isn’t too worried about it right now. Instead, he edges quietly into Tony’s line of sight, trying to think of something to say.

Tony tilts his head up to look at him, the bags under his eyes highlighted by the glow of the arc reactor in his chest. “Hey Cap,” he says dryly, saluting him with the glass in his hand. “Decided to join the pity party?”

 Steve shrugs and lowers himself to the floor near Tony. “Something like that,” he says slowly, not sure how to approach the situation.

Tony huffs and looks down, swirling the liquid in his glass, his eyes distant. Steve shifts and settles into where he’s sitting, deciding to take a page from Tony’s book and let the man lead the conversation.

They sit in silence for several minutes before Tony takes a sip from his glass and thunks his head back on the cabinet behind him, his eyes closed. “You know… you know the worse part?” he asks Steve, swinging his head over to look at him. “Me and my dad… we didn’t even get along.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “I even hated him for a while there.”

Steve licks his lips and doesn’t respond, keeping his shoulders relaxed as he watches Tony stare quietly into the dark.

“And then…” Tony swallows and brings the glass to his lips. “And then they died and I didn’t even say goodbye to them.” The ice in the glass clinks as Tony lowers the drink again, his free hand tightening into a fist.

Steve shifts a little on the floor. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

Tony huffs and waves his hand. “It’s not your fault,” he bites out, glaring ahead of him and taking another drink.

Steve shrugs and looks down at his hands. “I know,” he says simply. “But I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Tony lets out a tight laugh and stares at his glass. “My dad told me a lot about you,” he says suddenly, his eyes never leaving the glass. “Wouldn’t shut up about you sometimes, and I always…” He presses his lips together and his hand tightens on his glass. “He sucked,” he says bluntly. “As a dad, he wasn’t that great, but I… I didn’t want him to die.”

Steve swallows and clasps his hands in his lap, it’s… strange learning about Howard’s less than stellar fatherhood, and he’s not quite sure how he feels about it. “How… how old were you when they died?” he asks after a moment.  

Tony blinks and rolls his head back to look at the ceiling. “Twenty-one,” he replies tiredly. “I took over the company by the end of that year.” He shrugs and looks down at his lap. “It wasn’t really what I wanted to be doing, but we needed stability afterwards… ‘coz you know, the company’s stocks took a bit of a hit, which wasn’t really a surprise.”  

Steve shakes his head, he can’t imagine if, for example, he had to suddenly take on leading a whole company so soon after his Ma died.

Tony takes another drink and swirls the remnants of the glass’s contents. “You know.” He smiles bitterly. “You know, I always thought that it was his fault.” He sneers at the cabinets opposite to him and runs his free hand through his hair. “I figured that dad got drunk enough to crash the car and killed my mom.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes scanning the man beside him. He’s not really sure if anything he could say right now would help Tony, but, he thinks that simply being here might help the engineer, if only a little bit, otherwise why would Tony let him in?

“What…what do you think about it now?” he asks tentatively.

Tony huffs out a frustrated sigh and drains what’s left in his glass. “I don’t know,” he answers flatly. “I’m angry because it’s been years and I’ve moved on from my parents’ deaths but no, now I gotta deal with this again.” Tony sets the glass down sharply and draws his knees up to his chest before folding his arms over them.   

Steve eyes Tony’s glass and wishes, just a little bit, that he could get drunk, or tipsy, or something, because he can really see the appeal of alcohol right now. After a second, he gives his head a little shake and refocuses on Tony.

I’m trying to help Tony, he reminds himself. I can deal with my stuff later.

“I guess it’s good that my dad didn’t kill my mom,” Tony says, breaking into Steve’s train of thought. “But it’s…” Tony chews on the inside of his cheek. “If it hadn’t been for Hydra then he’d probably still be alive you know?”

Steve nods. “I didn’t know about this before,” he says after a moment, because it seems important. “Pierce didn’t tell me.”

Tony laughs quietly and shakes his head. “Yeah no kidding Cap.” He slouches down on the cabinets behind him. “They only just told you about your best-friend-turned-Terminator that they keep locked up in the basement. I doubt they would’ve mentioned one of his missions.”

Steve stomach twists and he bites his lip, trying to figure out what to say, because it’s true, killing Howard and Maria had been one of Bucky’s missions, and while he knows Bucky had no choice in the matter, he’s not sure how Tony feels about it.

He opens his mouth to ask before closing it again, pressing his lips together. Now might not be the best time to mention it… but he’s not really sure if there’s a good time to bring up this type of thing…

“What is it?” Tony asks, startling Steve out of his contemplations.

Steve runs his tongue over his teeth and clenches his fingers in his lap. “I was just… wondering how you felt about… about Bucky now,” he admits finally.

Tony blows out a breath of air and slouches further against the cabinets. “It sucks,” he says finally. “I know… I know in my head that he’s not the one to blame, I saw his file too you know—don’t get me started on the barbaric way his arm is attached…” He trails off and stares in front of him, the arc reactor casting strange shadows on his face.

Steve blinks away the image of that particular file and leans back against the cabinets himself, waiting for Tony to get his thoughts together.

Tony swallows and pushes himself up slightly, rubbing at his face with one hand. “I…” He sighs. “It’s not going to be easy, I’ll admit.” He glances over at Steve. “But whatever I feel towards Barnes is nothing compared to what I feel towards Hydra.”

Steve lets out a breath and relaxes slightly. “Thank you Tony. I know this must be hard for you.”

Tony lets out a laugh and pushes himself up all the way before crossing his legs and giving Steve a look. “Oh, this is going to be hard for everyone,” he says pointedly. “But I’m planning on making it worse for Hydra,” he finishes, giving Steve a sharp grin.  

Yeah, me too. Steve thinks, glaring at the space in front of him. I’m a little tired of Hydra coming in and killing my friends.        

Tony sighs suddenly and reaches out to fiddle with his empty glass. “Can’t say this is how I imagined meeting an iconic 40’s war hero though.” He glances up at Steve, his eyes narrowing for a second as he tilts his head. Something seems to solidify in his eyes, and he nods a little. “Tell me about him?”

“About Bucky?” Steve asks, a little thrown by the change in topic. Tony nods and Steve settles back to think. “I don’t know what all you’ve heard or read about,” he admits after a second.

Tony huffs and waves his hand. “Doesn’t matter,” he says flippantly. “The history books probably got it all wrong anyways.”

Steve’s mouth crooks upwards at that and he flicks his eyes to the ceiling. “I met Bucky when I was six,” he starts. “Some kid was hogging the swings at the park and we ended up fighting over them.” Tony chuckles and Steve rolls his eyes. “Bucky always said afterwards that that should’ve clued him in to my personality, but anyways, he pulled the other kid off of me and neither of us got the swing ‘coz we had to head home and treat our growing bruises.” 

“Tragic,” Tony says, giving Steve an amused look.

“For a six-year-old yeah,” he retorts, a faint smile on his face. “Turns out Buck lived near me and we went to the same school.” He shrugs, looking down at his lap. “I’ll never know why he decided to befriend the sickest kid in the whole school but… he started sticking around and giving bullies the stink eye.”

“You were bullied?” Tony asks, a strange look in his eye.

“Of course,” Steve says, leaning his head back. “I was sick and scrawny and the son of immigrants, not to mention poor…” He gives Tony a wry smile. “I also had a hard time keeping my mouth shut.” His smile fades a little and he looks down, his face pensive. “People looked at me and dismissed me just as quickly, it felt like a battle just trying to get acknowledged.”

Tony swallows and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m guessing Barnes didn’t do that.”

Steve gives him a small smile. “No,” he responds quietly. “He’d set me straight though. Call me out when I was being stupid, tryna prove myself to people who would never listen.” He swallows, and looks away from Tony. “He also… whenever I started to think I was… you know, a burden or something, he was sure to… try an’ convince me otherwise.”

“Sounds like a good guy,” Tony says quietly.

“Yeah,” Steve looks down. “Probably saved my life at least a dozen times before I became Captain America.” He looks over at Tony, his eyes focusing on the arc reactor. “I was always so sick you know, and after my Ma died Bucky…” He huffs out a laugh. “Bucky wanted us to share an apartment. He knew there was no way I could afford my old one by myself.”

“You shared an apartment?” Tony cuts in, leaning forward.

Steve gives him a surprised look. “That’s not in the textbooks?” he asks.

Tony shakes his head. “None that I’ve read at least,” he says. “Most of them focus on the war, with maybe a few chapters on your life before.”

Steve frowns a little but he isn’t surprised, Captain America is generally considered more important than Steve Rogers. “Well we did,” he says. “After my Ma died right up until Bucky got deployed.” He shrugs and gives Tony a small smile. “I was stubborn about it at first. I didn’t want to be a drain on Bucky or his family, but he insisted.”

“Yeah, that sounds like you,” Tony says, tilting his head. “And? How was it?” He shifts a little on the hard floor.

“It was hard sometimes,” Steve admits. “The Depression wasn’t quite over yet and our flat was basically a closet that leaked in the spring, baked in the summer and froze in the winter.” He looks down and fiddles a little with his fingers. “Money was usually tight and I caught pneumonia that first winter, so, I guess it was a good thing I moved in or else I’d have probably kicked it.”  

“Ah.” Tony leans his head back and throws Steve a teasing smile. “Then where would we be?”

Steve snorts quietly. “Probably with a different super soldier.”

Tony shakes his head, waving his hand. “Nah, I’d probably have kicked ‘em out by now.” He drums his fingers on his legs. “So all the histories portraying you as an all-American-Saint beside your bad-boy-boyfriend got it backwards huh?”

Steve’s head hits the cabinets behind him as he laughs. “Is that—.” He wheezes. “Is that how they frame it?” He slouches slightly as he dissolves into another fit of giggles.

Tony grins at him. “Yeah, ‘cept it seems to me that you’re actually the one getting into trouble while Bucky follows you around like an exasperated mother-hen.”

Steve calms slightly, wiping his eyes. “It wasn’t only like that,” he protests. “Bucky got just as angry about the things that I did, the only difference is that most people would rather listen to him than risk taking a swing at him.”

“Sure,” Tony says, a wide grin still on his face.

“And I didn’t fight everyone,” Steve continues adamantly. “Just the people that mattered. And I didn’t usually throw the first punch. And I could ignore bullies if I wanted to, you know, the ones tryna get a rise outa me.” He looks away and mumbles. “It was usually Bucky who punched the people bothering me.”

“Right, so you stood up for other people and Bucky swooped in to keep you from getting killed by either your own bullies or the ones you went and found,” Tony sums up looking way too pleased.

Steve blows out a breath and leans back. “I stayed out of fights when I had to,” he insists stubbornly.

“Uh huh,” Tony says looking a little skeptical. “So was there anything you and Barnes did together besides starve and patch each other up?”

Steve huffs and gives Tony a look. “We worked,” he says bluntly. “And we saved up for the next emergency.” He pauses and a soft smile comes onto his face. “And if we had enough, we could sometimes afford a treat, we’d go to the movies a lot.”

“Really?” Tony asks, tilting his head teasingly. “You sure film was invented back then? I’m pretty sure there were still dinosaurs around when you two were young.”

Steve gives Tony a mock glare before continuing. “We had film Stark,” he says flatly, before brightening a little. “It was different of course, I remember, Bucky took us to see The Wizard of Oz, it was one of the first ones to use colour.” He shrugs and looks down a little bashfully. “’Course, I couldn’t see colour real well, so Bucky spent the whole film whispering the colours of things to me.” 

“Right,” Tony says suddenly, snapping his fingers. “You were colour-blind weren’t you?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.” Among other things. “Before the serum, everything was sort of yellow and brown and blue…” He looks up at Tony and shrugs, his hands tightening in his lap. “It was a real shock waking up from the serum. Everything was so bright, and even the yellows and blues looked different.”

He swallows and looks away. The onslaught of colours had been rather overwhelming actually, but he hadn’t had much time to deal with it because Doctor Erskine had been shot almost immediately afterward.     

Steve shakes his head and looks back at Tony. “After the serum, me and Bucky joked that after we got home from the war we’d go and find a theatre an’ convince them to play The Wizard of Oz for us so I could experience the colours properly.”

He can almost hear Bucky now, ‘They’d do it too, Steve, if ‘Captain America’ asked ‘em to.’

At the time, Steve and the other Commandos had laughed and joked about trying to convince some random theatre that watching The Wizard of Oz was somehow vital to the safety of America.

“Did you watch it yet?”

Steve blinks and looks over at Tony. “What?” he asks.

Tony shifts. “Did you watch it yet? You know they have DVDs now and Netflix right? You could watch it whenever you want Cap.”

Steve opens his mouth and closes it again. “I… no. I haven’t watched it yet.” It hadn’t really occurred to him. It was hard sometimes, to remember that he could do things that he wanted to do, for fun, rather than just because he needed to.

Tony’s eyes seem to light up and he reaches for his glass before levering himself up off the floor. “Let’s do it,” he says decisively. “Let’s watch it, right now.”

Steve stares at Tony for a second before pulling himself off the ground as well, wincing a little as he realises just how long he’s been sitting on the floor. He scans Tony for a second, watching as he places the glass in the sink and starts heading for the living room. He seems to be as unfazed as he was this morning, but Steve doubts that he’s truly over their recent discovery.

Talking about Bucky and watching The Wizard of Oz, he realises, is probably a way to distract himself without drinking himself into oblivion.

So, Steve swallows back the little stab of guilt he feels at watching the film without Bucky and makes his way into the living room, settling himself onto the couch as Tony calls for JARVIS to play the movie.

Tony settles down too and the lights in the room dim even further as the movie begins to play.

Steve smiles and feels a wave of nostalgia as he watches Dorothy and her house being swept away by a tornado. He feels his heartrate pick up slightly as the house spins and falls and Dorothy very cautiously opens the door into Munchkinland.

Of course, he’s seen coloured film by now, but his breath still hitches slightly and there’s a determined wetness behind his eyes as he watches Dorothy wander around bewilderedly in the technicoloured world.     

“How is it?” Tony asks quietly after Steve has had a chance to pull himself together.

“It’s good,” he says tightly, blinking his eyes determinedly. “When we watched it the first time, I could see the blue of Dorothy’s dress, at least a little, and I could see the yellow of the road, but I couldn’t see the red of the shoes or the green of the wicked witch’s face…”

Tony silent for a moment. “You know,” he says as they continue to watch. “I always thought that Dorothy took being thrust into a brand new world and proclaimed a hero rather well.”

Steve ducks his head and lets out a breath. “Yeah,” he says, getting the feeling that they’re not just talking about Dorothy.

They watch again in silence until Dorothy runs into the Tin Man. Tony seems to twitch slightly when the Tin Man mentions his missing heart, and his hands tug restlessly at his t-shirt. “Hey,” he says suddenly, interrupting the Tin Man’s song. “What… what do you think my dad was doing with that serum?”

Steve looks over at him in surprise. “…that’s a good question,” he says finally before thinking back to when Coulson had told him about Bruce and the botched serum that had resulted in the Hulk. “He must have been trying to replicate it.”

Tony nods. “Yeah, but Hydra got that serum,” he presses his lips together and starts picking at the fabric of the couch. “I’m guessing that’s a large part of why they targeted my dad in the first place.”

Steve’s stomach lurches and he swallows heavily. “You’re right,” he says. “But if Hydra got the serum then…” He gives Tony a worried look. “That was five whole bags Tony, and the file said they were trying to make Winter Soldiers.”

“They already had Barnes,” Tony says, rubbing his chin. “And we already know the kinds of stuff they were able to do with just one Winter Soldier…”

“Having five more would be catastrophic,” Steve finishes his eyes widening and a thrill of panic going through him.

“Okay, okay,” Tony says, raising his hands placatingly, the movie continuing to play forgotten in the background. “Wouldn’t we, you know, notice if Hydra had six brainwashed assassins running around? Why haven’t they taken over already?”

Steve breathes in deeply before frowning in thought. “I’m not sure,” he says, pursing his lips. “Pierce didn’t mention there being any other Winter Soldiers… maybe the serum didn’t work?”

Tony shifts on the couch and runs a hand through his hair. “If dad got a working version of the serum…” He says slowly. “I figure he would have marketed it immediately.” He shifts and looks back at Steve. “Considering how he didn’t… I wouldn’t be surprised if Hydra got a dud.”

Steve swallows and turns his eyes back to the movie. “Let’s hope they did,” he says quietly.

Chapter Text

The knowledge of five other possible Winter Soldiers hangs over them like an unpleasant cloud, but there seems to be almost no information about them at all.

They finish reading through Bucky’s files and it mentions how he was used to help train them for combat, with a side note commenting on how Bucky seemed to be less aggressive than them and suggesting further conditioning for the other soldiers, but after that, Bucky had been transferred to the American sect of Hydra and no other mention of the Russian Winter Soldiers is made.

“The Soviet Union died pretty much right after that,” Tony says after their futile search for more information. “Maybe they just never got a chance to be used.”

Steve nods uncertainly at that and hopes that Tony’s right.

Whether Hydra has five other assassins is relative anyways, He thinks tiredly. Considering how they definitely have one.

Hydra wants to start training Steve as Bucky’s handler almost immediately, and Steve finds that every day is a test of his self-restraint in the face of the blatant disregard towards Bucky’s humanity.

Hydra sees Bucky as nothing more than a tool, and in order to be taken seriously, he needs to pretend likewise. There are quite a few times where he just barely manages to keep himself from calling Bucky by name.

The Asset, he is told, doesn’t have a name, he’s either the Asset or the Soldier now. (He does not punch that particular agent in the face, but Tony’s gym gets a thorough beating once he gets home).

They teach him a set of ‘trigger words’ that trigger a deep state of unwavering obedience in the Asset, and he feels sick every time he uses them, the blank look in Bucky’s eyes haunting him every time he closes his eyes to sleep.

Sometimes he thinks he sees a glimmer of something in his friend’s eyes, and everyone comments that the Asset seems more responsive to Steve as a whole, but he never knows how to feel about that. On the one hand, he wants to believe that his friend could remember him…

On the other, he almost loses his lunch at the idea that Bucky might think he really does want to be his handler and finds no problem in Bucky’s treatment.

And his treatment is despicable.

When off mission, Bucky seems to be treated as an annoyance at best, and those around him don’t seem to see any harm in pushing him around in order to make their lives easier. More often than not Steve has to fight from grinding his teeth down while around the other agents.  

He’s punished when he does anything on his own, Steve thinks furiously when a pair of said agents complain that the Asset requires manhandling between missions. You taught him to be like this, what do you expect?

Casual abuse doesn’t seem to faze them either.

A few days into his training, and he’s standing stiffly in the Vault, hands clasped behind his back as he waits for Bucky to be brought, so that he can start assessing his physical training. A movement at the door alerts him to his friend’s approach, although he could never have been prepared for what he was about to see.

“Move it!” An agent in black hisses angrily, tapping his foot impatiently as he waits for Bucky to follow him into the room. Bucky, his hair still wet from cryofreeze, stumbles slightly as he enters, and the next second every hair on the back of Steve’s neck stands on end as the sound of a slap echoes sharply around the room, Bucky’s head whipping to the side as the agent looks down on him in annoyance.

He doesn’t even think, he just moves, and the next instant, he’s looming over the agent, the offending hand gripped tightly in his own.

“Hit him again,” he says lowly, his voice rumbling deeply throughout the room. “And I will break every bone in your hand.”

The agent pales and Steve can feel the tension in the room rise as everyone simultaneously remembers that Captain America is more than just a name and a catchy show tune.

He’s a soldier. And he’s dangerous.

“Do I make myself clear?” he growls, his hand tightening just slightly.

“Y-yes sir,” the agent stutters out, his eyes darting back and forth frantically as sweat begins to bead up on his forehead.

“Good,” he spits, dropping the agent’s hand and taking a step back before bringing his eyes up and glaring hotly around the room. Nobody will quite meet his eyes and he feels a grim sense of satisfaction at that.

“If I am to be the Asset’s handler then he will be handled as I see fit,” he snaps to the room at large. “Any of you have a problem with him, you come to me first.”

“Yes sir,” someone says, and the rest of the room echoes it back at him.

Steve nods once, his eyes hard, before spinning on his heel and heading for the door. “Asset, to me,” he says sharply, his voice still tight with anger as he marches out of the ‘Maintenance Room’ and heads for a separate training room.

Bucky trails after him silently and Steve consciously works at regulating his emotions. Right now, he’s pretty sure that Bucky isn’t going to understand that he’s angry for him, he’s just going to understand that his handler is angry, and that anger usually means pain on his part.

He breathes deeply as they enter the training room and Tony’s words echo in his head. ‘You let me know if it gets too much, yeah? Playing Hydra’s toy-soldier.’ He breathes in again and hopes that Hydra won’t take this incident and decide that he’s more loyal to Bucky than he is to Hydra. That would not be good.

He turns to find Bucky patiently waiting behind him for orders. “Okay,” he says, rolling some of the tension out of his shoulders and walking to the middle of the room. “Sparring positions,” he says, trying to put the most recent incident behind him. “No lethal or permanent damage.”

Bucky nods and steps into the middle of the room as well before falling into a sparring stance. “Confirmed,” he says tonelessly before his eyes sharpen and become more calculating.

The hard floor isn’t great to spar on, but it gives Bucky a chance to learn how to fight with Steve and it allows Steve to evaluate Bucky’s skills.

They are as intimidating as promised.

No matter how he feels about it, he has to admit that Bucky is deadly. He fights with a cold efficiency and he’s fast enough that he manages to keep Steve on his toes.

He remembers sparring with Bucky after he’d gotten the serum. That had been fun and filled with teasing and jeers from the other Commandos watching from the sidelines. This is nothing like that. The Asset’s punches are cold and hard, and Steve gets the feeling that he wouldn’t stop unless he was told to, or he managed to pin Steve down.

They won’t have a chance to test out Bucky’s rifle skills for a few more days, but he feels that those will be just as ruthless.

He lets the sparring go on for a while, but once they’re both breathing hard, he raises a hand to call it off. Bucky halts instantly and stands at attention, his face blank again as usual, but his eyes a little more alive than they were before.

“Well done,” Steve says, and he thinks something like surprise flickers in Bucky’s eyes. To an outsider Bucky’s face would be completely empty, but Steve has had a lifetime of practice reading that face.

It’s a good thing that the other agents can’t read you like I can, he thinks quietly. Although, they probably think I’ll do it for them now.

A sound at the door alerts him that they have a visitor, and he looks up to see one of the countless Hydra agents that seem to wander around the bank. “Secretary Pierce wants to see you in the Maintenance Room,” she says tilting her head back towards the hall.

Something tenses in Bucky’s shoulders and Steve feels a spike of dread curl up in his stomach as they both follow the agent back to where Bucky’s chair is kept.

“Captain,” Pierce greets him as they enter, dressed as usual in his impeccable grey suit. Rumlow is with him as well, and a few technicians flutter around the edges of the room.

Steve nods in reply and scans the room reflexively as he tries to guess what Pierce could want.

Pierce puts his hands in his pockets and nods towards the chair, a pleasant smile on his face. “We felt it time for you to learn how to prep the Asset for a mission,” he says, and Steve feels his stomach drop.  

“Of course,” he replies, the words like acid in his mouth. He turns woodenly to Bucky. “Go sit,” he orders shortly.

Bucky complies, because of course he does, but his eyes look empty again.

“The procedure should only take about ten minutes,” Pierce tells him conversationally as the chair clamps down on Bucky and a technician offers him a rubber mouth guard.

Steve doesn’t do much to reply to Pierce because he’s busy trying not to tense up at how passively Bucky opens his mouth to receive the guard. For a second he swears Bucky looks at him, but the next moment he’s looking up as the chair tips back and the head pieces rotate around to position themselves over his face.

Steve can feel his mind shutting down as Bucky’s breathing speeds up and his hands clench into fists on the armrests of the chair. A sharp buzzing is all the warning given before the machine activates and a low guttural scream tears out of him.

Steve fights to keep his face impassive and his stance rock solid as he watches, but inside he’s screaming right along with Bucky, his tongue curling up tightly in his mouth as he tries to regulate his breathing like he’d been taught during his SHIELD training. Bucky jerks in the chair and Steve clenches his jaw.  

“I’m surprised you can stand to watch this.” He turns his head to find Rumlow sliding up to him with a sly look on his face. The agent shrugs and gestures lazily at Bucky. “Given how he used to be your friend and all.”

Steve swallows and folds his arms across his chest. Beside him, Rumlow is busy acting like this is a private conversation, but he knows that Pierce and every other agent in the room is practically on the edge of their seats, waiting to hear what he has to say.

The thought crosses his mind that this might be some sort of perverse punishment for standing up for Bucky earlier, or perhaps some kind of test.

He grits his teeth and swallows against the bile rising in his throat before turning to Rumlow and offering him a shrug and what he hopes is an easy smile. “It’s not like he’s really Bucky anymore,” he says, the careful words like knives on his tongue. He’s almost grateful that Bucky is screaming too loud to hear him. He tilts his head and waves one hand towards Bucky and the chair. “Really, the Asset is mostly someone who happens to look like someone I used to know.”

Rumlow nods at that and Steve can almost feel the approval coming off Pierce in waves. Bucky’s screams continue to echo around the room and a seed of anger flares to life and glows hotly in his stomach.

When this is over, he thinks bitterly, his eyes hard as he turns and focuses back on Bucky. I hope you burn.

After the ‘procedure’ (torture, his mind supplies), Steve is guided through reciting the trigger words in order to trigger Bucky’s memories of his Winter Soldier training and his current handler. As he finishes, Bucky is still panting and twitching from the aftershocks of the chair and Steve’s throat constricts as a wave of nausea washes over him.

He will be returning often enough to help train Bucky that they don’t put him back in cryofreeze, instead he leads Bucky to a small room that has been converted into a kind of holding cell for him.

He knows intellectually, that while he’s gone, someone will attend to Bucky’s needs, but he still feels a stab of guilt as he orders Bucky inside.

“Wait here until further orders,” he says tightly, his eyes darting around the small room containing nothing but a narrow cot in the corner.

Bucky enters the room silently and continues to stand at attention in the cramped space, his eyes blank and empty.

Steve’s hand tightens on the doorframe as he scans Bucky’s impassive face. I’ll get you out of here, Buck, he wants to say. Just hang on and I’ll get you out. He clenches his teeth and swallows the words down. He has no idea what kind of bugs Hydra has around the place, and he can’t afford to blow his cover now.

Instead, he nods towards the cot and gives Bucky a look. “Sleep—” He almost says ‘when necessary’ but he gets the feeling that Bucky’s definition of necessary is different than his. “Sleep a minimum of three hours a night,” he says instead, because he knows that with the serum Bucky needs less sleep than the average person and he doesn’t want to torture Bucky by forcing him to try and sleep longer than he wants to. At the same time though, he has a feeling that Bucky won’t sleep much without explicit permission.

“Confirmed,” Bucky replies, reminding Steve of the automated elevator at SHIELD headquarters.

“Sleep more if you want to,” he says weakly before taking a step back. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

Bucky doesn’t respond and Steve has to fight to keep his hands from shaking as he closes the heavy door to his cell.

As the months progress, and Hydra continues to groom him to be Bucky’s handler, Steve finds himself relying more and more on Tony’s reinforced punching bags as a way to try and deal with the mental torture of watching his best friend’s subhuman treatment.

It’s early April and he’s back from having watched Hydra freeze and unfreeze Bucky in his cryochamber, and he makes a beeline for the gym. He at least has the presence of mind to wrap his knuckles before he starts pounding on the bags, but he doubts he’ll be finished before something breaks, and he finds he doesn’t much care if it’s him or the bag right now.

He usually zones out a little when he gets like this, the rhythm of punching the bags helping push away the memories – whether old or new – that keep him up at night. His fists pound and things are just starting to numb a little around the edges when he’s interrupted by the sound of the gym doors, and he sees Tony drift into his peripheral vision.

The billionaire is dressed in casual workout gear and is sipping some sort of smoothie out of a plastic travel mug, looking as relaxed as he ever can be. Steve represses a sigh at the sight; he’d been hoping to be left alone until he got this out of his system.

Tony edges closer and eyes the punching bags lined up on the floor beside him with a raised eyebrow. “Bad day was it?” he asks casually, taking a sip of his smoothie.

Steve lets out a huff and throws his next punch with a little more force than necessary. “The sooner we dig out Hydra, the better,” he says in lieu of responding.

Tony hums and watches him over the rim of his mug. “And how are you holding up, in the meantime?”

Steve lets off one last punch before turning to Tony. “I’m fine,” he replies firmly, using one hand to stabilise the swinging bag. “I’m not a liability for the mission.”

“Right,” Tony drawls, switching his drink from one hand to the other and scanning Steve. “Except we’re not in the forties anymore Cap. No one’s going to kick you off the team just because you’re a little messed up.”

Steve presses his lips together as his mind flashes unhelpfully to the bed in his room that has yet to see a full night’s use. His gaze flickers down. “I never said we were,” he replies stubbornly, his eyes fixed resolutely on the hand steadying the punching bag.

“Uh huh,” Tony swirls his smoothie around and gives Steve a look. “So, you’ve looked into those doctors we talked about then?”

Steve’s shoulders hunch and he turns back to his punching bag, raising his fists. “Have you?” he bites out defensively and takes a swing.

“Okay, fair point,” Tony says, taking another swig of his smoothie. Steve huffs and throws another few punches at the hanging bag. Tony stands quietly as he watches him, a thoughtful, almost guarded look in his eyes. After a moment his eyes drop down to his smoothie and stay there as he shrugs casually. “I’ll go if you go.”     

Steve stops abruptly and turns, his hand keeping the bag from swinging wildly as he stares at Tony. Beside him, Tony’s stance is carefully relaxed, but Steve doesn’t miss the tension in his shoulders or the tightness of his grip on his mug. His tongue presses into the roof of his mouth and his stomach clenches uneasily. “I’m fine,” he tells him again.

Tony gives a one-shouldered shrug and seems to direct his next words at Steve’s left ear. “I never said you weren’t Cap.” His fingers tighten further on his mug and he shrugs again. “But going wouldn’t hurt.”

Steve lets out a sigh and starts unwrapping his hands since it seems like Tony isn’t going to let this go. He grinds his teeth and scowls as he unwinds the bandages, his mind turning over Tony’s words. “I… can’t go right now,” he says finally, keeping his eyes focused on his hands. “It’s too dangerous with Hydra around.”

But Tony said he would go if I did, his mind screams at him and his stomach twists a little. He knows from his conversation with Tony that the man also has some… issues, and these doctors seem important now… He chews on the inside of his cheek in indecision. He doesn’t want to go. The memory of forties medicine is still too fresh in his mind, and he hadn’t been lying when he said that going now would be too dangerous… but… Tony had said he would go if he did.

“After Hydra, I’ll look into it,” he decides, not looking up as he puts his wrappings away.

Tony relaxes at his words, revealing how tense he’d actually been, and he tilts his head back as he drinks from his mug. “Sounds good to me, Capsicle,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Steve offers him a tight smile and runs a hand through his hair, feeling uncomfortably restless as he starts heading to the door of the gym. Tony falls into step with him and the door sweep open automatically to let them through. “So,” he says after a moment. “Do you have any plans for April?”

Steve’s brow furls in confusion and he glances over. “I don’t think Hydra’s going to be gone by the end of April,” he informs him dryly.

Tony snorts and waves his hand. “Yeah I know Cap. I’m talking about something else.”

“Oh,” Steve shrugs his shoulders. “I haven’t heard about any missions yet.”

“Perfect,” Tony says with a smile. “You can come with me to Aunt Peggy’s birthday then.”

Steve stumbles to a halt in the hallway and stares at Tony, his mouth open. “What?” he croaks feeling like the floor had just dropped out from under him.

Tony stops to look at him. “Peggy’s birthday,” he says slowly. “It’s coming up and she’s in D.C. so I thought you might want to come along when I go visit her.”

“Oh,” Steve says feeling a little like someone had reached into his throat and was trying to strangle his windpipe. His mind remains slightly dazed as he starts walking again.

Tony steps with him and watches him quietly. “Have you had a chance to visit her yet?” he asks after a moment.

Steve swallows. “No I…haven’t.” Guilt swirls around in his gut and he looks away. He hadn’t meant to let it go this long. Every time he was in D.C., Peggy’s presence was like an itch in the back of his mind, but he hadn’t been able to work up the courage to actually go and visit her.

Tony laughs suddenly and slaps Steve’s shoulder with his free hand. “You’re in for it now,” he says smugly. “Aunt Peggy will not be impressed.”

Steve offers him a small smile. “No, I suppose not,” he mumbles.

Tony gives him a fond look before he drains the rest of his smoothie. “I’m heading out to visit her on the ninth,” he informs him after he finishes. “You’re coming with me.”

Steve gives him an amused look. “Yes sir,” he says a little ironically.  

Tony laughs again and heads off towards his labs, leaving Steve to wonder why he’d come to the gym in the first place since he hadn’t actually used it.

oOo

His compass presses into his leg from its place in his pocket and he can’t seem to stop fiddling with the cuffs of his leather jacket.

“You look fine,” Tony tells him as he adjusts his tie in the window of the retirement home in front of them.

Steve’s stomach twists uncomfortably with nerves and he runs a hand through his hair. “What if this is a bad idea? You said she has Alzheimer’s, right?”

Tony stands up straight and tugs on the sleeves of his suit. “It’ll be fine Cap,” he says. “Her daughter already phoned, she said that today is a good day.”

Steve sighs and lets Tony lead them inside the comfortable looking retirement home. “It might stop being a good day once she sees me,” he protests to Tony as they get signed in.

“Uh huh,” Tony hums, guiding Steve to the elevator. “I’m sure she’ll take one look at you and collapse into cardiac arrest.”

Steve squawks as the doors to the elevator close and he pulls his arm out of Tony’s grasp. “Tony,” he hisses.

Tony huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “It’ll be fine,” he reassures him before the elevator doors open onto Peggy’s floor.

Tony seems to know where he’s going, and he leads Steve confidently down the halls. “Okay,” he says, stopping in front of one of the doors. “Wait in the entryway while I introduce you.” He throws Steve a wink. “Wouldn’t want to risk any sudden appearing heart conditions.”

Steve huffs, but his heart is pounding too hard to think of a response. Beside him, Tony knocks on the door and they hear a voice inside beckoning them to enter.

Steve’s stomach swoops like it did all those years ago on the Cyclone on Coney Island and he swallows nervously as he follows Tony into Peggy’s apartment. The entryway is small and opens up into a small kitchenette and living room area with a door leading off to what Steve assumes is a bedroom.

“Hey Aunt Peggy,” Tony calls, stepping towards the bedroom and leaving Steve in the entryway.

“Tony!” Steve hears a frail but delighted voice reply. “Decided to finally drop by have you?”

Tony laughs from the other room and Steve wipes his sweaty hands on his pants. He tugs at the sleeves of his jacket and tries to breathe evenly.

“I couldn’t miss your birthday now could I?” He hears Tony say. “In fact, I even brought you a present.”

“Oh?” He hears Peggy reply, the familiar British accent of her voice hitting him square in the chest. “And what might that be?”

“An old friend,” Tony promises and Steve takes that as his cue to make his way towards the bedroom of the apartment.

His heart is pounding in his ears louder than ever and his lungs seem to have forgotten how to use the serum, because his chest is just as tight as it used to be back in the 30s.

He forges on and steps into the bedroom, immediately taken back by how warm and homely it looks, the light from the window casting a bright glow on the figure in the bed. The world seems to skip a beat. “Peggy,” he breathes, his heart in his throat.

Time stands still as Peggy stares at him and he takes her in. She’s older, of course he knew that she would be, but his years in the ice suddenly seem much more real now. Her hair has faded to silvery-white after all these years and her skin is thin and wrinkled, a testament to the missing decades of his life.

“Steve?” Peggy’s voice is small and disbelieving as she stares at him with wide eyes.

He’s vaguely aware of Tony’s smooth retreat from Peggy’s side as he stumbles his way to the bed. “Hey Peggy,” he whispers, his voice rough.

“Steve,” she says with tears in her eyes, her wrinkled hand reaching up to his face. “You’re alive.”

There’s a chair by the bed and he sinks into it, his hand reaching up to clasp Peggy’s wrist. “Yeah,” he says softly, blinking against a sudden wetness in his eyes.

Peggy smiles and it feels like the sun breaking through a layer of clouds. “You came back,” she whispers.

Steve smiles gently at her. “Well, I couldn’t leave my best girl,” he says around the lump in his throat. “Not when she owes me a dance.”

The hand on his face slips down to grasp his hand. “You’re late,” Peggy reprimands, her eyes shining.

Steve lets out a soft chuckle and squeezes her hand gently. “I couldn’t call my ride,” he replies with a watery half-smile.

“Well.” Peggy blinks away the sheen of tears in her eyes and gives him a gentle smile as she pats his hand. “I expect to see you much more often now.” She looks over to where Tony is lingering by the doorway. “Especially since my godson here should be visiting me as well.”

Tony smiles charmingly and makes his way to sit on the other side of Peggy’s bed. “You wound me Aunt Peggy,” he says, his hand splayed out on his chest.

“Don’t think you can pull one over me just yet, Anthony,” Peggy responds lightly, giving Tony a shrewd look. “I was breaking code long before you were writing it.”

Tony laughs and crosses one leg over his knee. “Sure Aunt Peggy,” he says easily before gesturing over at Steve. “But as fascinating of a topic as I am, I’m sure Steve here would love to hear all about you Aunt Pegs.”

Peggy huffs fondly at the nickname and Steve perks up. “Yes,” he says, his eyes darting to a black and white picture sitting by the bedside. “Tony tells me you have a daughter.”

Peggy lights up at the mention of her children and they spend the better part of their visit listening to various stories about her two kids and the life she had led after the war.

It isn’t long though, before Peggy starts to show signs of fatigue, prompting Steve and Tony to both start getting up and say their goodbyes. Steve’s chest feels tight at the idea of leaving her so soon, but he doesn’t want to overtax her.  

“I’ll come back soon,” he promises, his throat tight.

“I’ll be expecting you,” Peggy says, clasping Steve’s hand in her own.

The ride in the elevator is mostly silent and Steve jams his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his mind lost in thought.

Beside him, Tony straightens his suit and raises his head before giving Steve a look out of the corner of his eye. “They… opened that new exhibit at the Smithsonian, didn’t they?” he asks casually.

Something strange lurches in Steve’s stomach and he stares fixedly at the elevator button panel. “Yeah, I think so,” he replies.

He’d kind of forgotten about the exhibit. The Smithsonian had approached him several months ago, wishing to create some sort of commemorative exhibit for Captain America. He’d agreed even though the whole idea had been kind of uncomfortable.

In the end he’d needed to sit through countless interviews and watch as things that had used to be his got brought out of storage and categorized. The entire process had been more upsetting than he would have liked, and he hadn’t gone to visit the exhibit yet, now that it had opened to commemorate his one-year anniversary of waking up in the 21^st century.

“Do you want to go see it?” Tony asks, breaking into his musings.

He tugs at the sleeves of his jacket and looks down. “I don’t know,” he admits. “It feels a little… surreal.”

Tony seems to stare at him for a moment before the elevator doors open and they both step out into the lobby of the retirement home. “Well.” Tony waves his hand. “I for one wouldn’t mind seeing a few pictures of the glory days,” he states as they head out to the car. “And I’m sure you’ll be a much more entertaining tour guide than anyone at that museum.”

Steve swallows as he opens the car door and he purses his lips together as he settles down into the seat. He chews on the inside of his cheek and stares vacantly out the window of the car while Tony heads around. Why not? he thinks suddenly as Tony gets in beside him. I’ve already confronted one ghost today, why not another?

Besides, he’ll probably have to go at some point anyways, and if he has to visit the museum, he’d rather do it with Tony than by himself.

“Let’s do it,” he says determinedly, giving Tony a sharp nod. The man looks slightly surprised before he throws him an approving grin and starts the car.

“Let’s hope no one recognises us,” he mutters under his breath as they enter traffic.

In the end, people don’t generally seem to notice Captain America while he’s dressed up as Steve Rogers, and Tony reluctantly sheds his suit jacket and finds a baseball cap stuffed in the back seat of the car in an effort to be less conspicuous. (‘You can’t just cover up this level of greatness, Steve’).

The museum is busy but not packed and Steve feels a thrum of anxiety flow through him as they approach the Captain America exhibit. The exhibit is busier because it’s new, and the caption “Captain America: The Living Legend and Symbol of Courage” stares at him from the wall. He looks away and his tongue curls up in his mouth as an overhead recording begins to extol his virtues.

He almost flinches when Tony grabs his arm and drags him further into the exhibit, and the sound of the crowds around them seem to get louder along with his pounding heart.

“Wow, look at you,” Tony whistles as they reach a picture labelled ‘Pre-serum’.

Steve braces himself for the stereotypical ‘You were really small’ comment, because everyone finds it hard to believe that he’d lived most of his life as a 90 pound asthmatic, even though for him, it’s really only been three years since he’d ‘grown up’.

“I can just imagine this guy tryna punch my lights out after some sort of off-colour comment,” Tony rambles, gesturing at the picture. “Probably caught a lot of people off guard.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he actually laughs at that. “You have no idea,” he says as something in his chest loosens.

Tony grins at him and subtly shifts over to stand beside the screen shifting between pictures of ‘pre-serum’ and ‘post-serum’ Steve. “Well I guess I can say I’ve completed my goal of being taller than Captain America,” he says smugly.

“Only ‘coz your boots add a couple inches,” Steve retorts easily with a wave of his hand.

Tony huffs and walks away. “Whatever,” he says, waving his hand flippantly before gesturing to some of the military displays. “Come and tell me the real story behind these.”

The museum visit isn’t as gut-wrenching as he’d been expecting. With Tony there the crowds seem less oppressive and he’s able to keep from dwelling too long on the fact that every one of the people displayed is long gone.

Well, not everyone, he thinks sardonically as he stops in front of Bucky’s portion of the exhibit. The irony is of course, that Bucky had been the only one of the Howling Commandos to die, and now he’s the only one left alive.

He sees a film clip from one of the times the Press had hounded them for shots. They had been trying to get background footage on the Commandos and had filmed segments of Steve with each of them.

It had been a long and tedious day and by the end of it Steve had found his ‘Captain America’ smile straining at the edges. That was, until Bucky’s turn had come up.

“Now act like you’re friends,” the camera operator had prompted

Steve can still read Bucky’s lips on screen as they burst out laughing. ‘But we are friends.’

His stomach twists and Bucky’s blank stare flashes before his eyes. He drops his head and looks behind him to see Tony watching him quietly.

“You ready to head back?” he asks in a low voice.

Steve casts one last glance at the laughing film reel of Bucky. “Yeah,” he says roughly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Let’s go.” 

They make their way back to the car in silence and Steve isn’t sure if he feels better for having visited the museum or not.

A ding from Tony’s pocket distracts him from his thoughts and he watches as the man pulls out his phone.

“Oh,” he says softly before looking over at Steve, his eyes wide.

“What is it?” Steve asks, a chill running up his spine.

Tony purses his lips. “The Helicarriers are finished,” he replies a little hollowly.      

Chapter Text

The completed Helicarriers and Hydra’s recent training of Steve and Bucky makes it pretty clear that whatever Hydra is planning, it’s happening soon.

Tony’s expression is tight with anxiety as they ride back to the tower in tense silence. “We should tell the others,” he says once they’re safe and away from prying ears.

“Yes,” Steve says, nodding grimly, his eyes hard. “It’s time to get everyone on board.”

Except.

It’s harder than it looks, trying to coordinate all their schedules without raising any outside suspicion.

Bruce is easy enough, he’s almost always in the tower, but Steve and Tony don’t really feel like having this particular conversation more times than necessary, so they hold off from telling him until they can manage to get everyone together.

Thor is, of course, on Asgard, so he’s not really in the picture, and Natasha and Clint continue to run missions for SHIELD, both of them somehow managing to never be in the Tower at the same time. (And then, of course, Clint goes on leave and disappears off to wherever he usually goes, and Steve doesn’t know how to contact him. And even if he did, telling him over the phone would be too risky.)

Of course, Hydra’s bugs are the main concern, making the Tower the only safe place to have the ‘big reveal’. This, of course, leaves them with the dilemma of how to convince Fury to come visit them without looking suspicious?

They can’t. That’s how.  

When Steve gets called to D.C. almost a week after the Helicarriers are finished, they still haven’t been able to tell anyone about Hydra and he shares a despairing look with Tony.

It’s possible, of course, that there’s nothing to worry about with this most recent call, but neither of them feel that way.

“I’m a phone call away,” Tony tells him as he gets ready to leave, and both of them try not to think of the bugs on Steve’s phone.

Steve’s lips thin and he gives Tony a determined look. “See you when I get back,” he replies, praying to anyone listening that he’ll be able to keep that promise.

They were right to be suspicious.

The mission he runs for SHIELD is standard enough, but it soon becomes clear that he had mainly been called into D.C. to prep the Asset.

“Pierce said to activate him and put him on standby,” Rollins tells him as they wait for Bucky’s cryochamber to defrost. “We’re probably gonna need him by the end of the week.”

Steve nods his head in acknowledgement and a wave of dread crashes over him. It’s coming, he thinks ominously. Hydra’s big plan is coming now.

And he doesn’t know how to warn Tony about it.

Oh, technically he could call Tony and the man would be beside him in under 20 minutes, but that would inevitably blow his cover with Hydra, and he doesn’t want to do that yet because he still doesn’t know what they’re planning.

Back in his apartment, Steve lays down wearily on the couch and closes his eyes.

We know it has something to do with the Helicarriers, he thinks tiredly. But Tony put override protocols in there, so we should be safe.

Even with Tony’s safeguards in place, Steve can’t help feeling that something horrible is about to happen.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he reaches for his phone and unlocks the screen. He might not be able to explicitly tell Tony of Hydra’s plans, but he can still try to warn him.

Today, 8:32 pm

Just wanted to check in. Looks like I’ll be here for a while.             

Today, 8:34 pm

Oh?

Let me guess, classified?

Today, 8:34 pm

Yeah, looks like I’ll have to reschedule our weekend plans.           

Today, 8:36 pm

And here I thought you were a man of your word Cap

Who’s Dum-E supposed to paint with NOW?

Today, 8:37

    :(

   Tell him I’m sorry for me.         

Today, 8:40 pm

 Dum-E’s devastated

Look at him.

You broke his heart

Steve lets out a laugh at the attached image of a forlorn Dum-E and shakes his head. Sometimes he wonders about those robots.

He exchanges a few more words with Tony before finally signing off, hoping that Tony had gotten his message. They hadn’t actually had any plans to reschedule in the first place, so mentioning them should signal to Tony to keep an eye out for this weekend. Given how Tony had invented plans to paint with Dum-E, he seems to have gotten the message.

Letting out another sigh, this one tinged with boredom, Steve opens the e-reader app on his phone and taps his current novel. It’s not even nine o’clock yet and, disregarding the fact that he doesn’t usually sleep more than a few hours while he’s in D.C. anyways, he doubts he’ll be able to sleep much tonight, not with the threat of Hydra looming over his head.

oOo

He’s not sure when exactly he falls asleep, but he wakes up at the usual crack of dawn, still completely clothed, with a crick in his neck from having spent the night on the couch. Letting out a groan, he stretches groggily and gets up to change his clothes into something more appropriate for his morning run.

As JARVIS had suggested, he’d taken to running in the mornings during his stay in D.C., finding that the exercise helped quiet the crawling anxiety that seemed to settle under his skin whenever he had to deal with either SHIELD or Hydra for any extended amount of time.

The paths are usually clear of fellow joggers this early in the morning, leaving him the space to really let loose and run as fast as he wants to, which is nice. Today though, he’s at it for only about 15 minutes before he’s surprised by the sight of another early-morning jogger running ahead of him at a much more reasonable speed.

“On your left,” he says by way of a warning as he passes the man on the narrow path.

He doesn’t think much of it until, one lap later, he comes across the man again. This isn’t usually an issue because he generally slows down once the paths become crowded, but there’s still nobody around so Steve continues his fast pace as he approaches the other jogger.

“On your left,” he says again as he tears past.

“Uh huh. On my left.” He hears the man respond before he gets out of earshot. “Got it.”

Steve’s lips quirk upwards just slightly as he continues his sprint and when he catches sight of the man yet again, he can’t help running a little faster.

The man obviously hears him coming and glances towards him as he passes. “Don’t say it,” he snaps, speeding up. “Don’t you say it.”

“On your left,” Steve replies without breaking stride.

“Come on!” The man yells in indignation and Steve allows himself a small smile as his fellow jogger tries to keep up with him for all of five seconds before giving up.

It’s the little things in life.

He does feel a little bad though, messing with random strangers, and the man seems interesting, (or at least sarcastic enough to be intriguing) so when he sees him resting against a tree at the end of his run, he doesn’t hesitate to head over.

The man turns out to be a veteran as well and is just as sarcastic as any other soldier that Steve has ever met.

“I’m working down at the V.A now,” he explains from his spot by the tree. Steve nods because he’s pretty sure he knows what that is, but he makes a mental note to look it up later. The man reaches out a hand and Steve wastes no time in pulling him to his feet. “Sam Wilson,” he says, introducing himself.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve replies, quietly hoping that that won’t change the easy back and forth that had been going on between them.

“I kinda put that together,” Sam says before standing up straight and scanning Steve. “Must of freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing.”

Steve sighs. He knows it’s natural for people to be curious about that, but it’s not something he really wants to talk about, and he finds most people are only really interested in that part of him. He’d hoped that things would be different with Sam because he seemed more at ease around him, but he’s not really surprised either.

“It takes some getting used to,” he replies diplomatically before preparing to make his retreat. “It’s good to meet you Sam,” he says as he starts turning away.

“It’s your bed right?” Sam calls out unexpectedly.

Steve feels a spark of surprise go through him. “What’s that?” he asks, turning back.

“Your bed,” Sam continues. “It’s too soft,” he explains while Steve stays mute with surprise. “It’s like…”

“Lying on a marshmallow,” Steve finishes. “Feel like I’m going to sink right to the floor.” His eye’s flicker over Sam and he’s not sure what to think about the man’s confession. It’s not often that people besides the Avengers talk to him and try to relate to him like a person.

Sam nods and Steve has a sudden urge to try and connect further to this person who seems to see him as a fellow soldier rather than as Captain America.

“How long?” he asks, knowing Sam will understand his question.

Sam looks down. “Two tours,” he replies evenly before looking back up at Steve. “You must miss the good old days huh?”

Steve takes in a breath and tries not to let his hackles rise. He’s had plenty of people lament to him about the ‘good old days’ (and he knows exactly what they mean by that), but he doesn’t think that’s what Sam is implying, in fact, it’s possible even, that Sam is trying to be kind with his question. Steve imagines that he’s not the only one who’s had to deal with things changing after coming home from a mission (just maybe not after 70 years).

“Well,” Steve shrugs and tries to respond easily. “Things aren’t so bad,” he says before unconsciously falling into his ‘List of Good Future Things’ that he provides whenever he gets asked the question by a newsperson. “Food’s a lot better, we used to boil everything,” he rattles off. “No polio’s good… internet, so helpful,” he says gesturing. “Been reading that a lot, trying to catch up.”

Sam smiles and looks almost like he knows Steve’s game before he shifts and raises a hand. “Marvin Gaye, 1972, Trouble Man soundtrack,” he lists off. “Everything you missed, jammed into one album.”

Halfway through, Steve is already pulling out his notebook, (the one he’d started after one person too many had been shocked by his lack of knowledge surrounding [insert item here]), so that he could write down Sam’s suggestion.

“I’ll put it on the list,” he says as he flips the book open. Most of the entries are crossed off by now, since the Avengers had seemed to make it their personal mission to introduce him to as many things as possible.

A chirp from his phone alerts him to an incoming text and he pulls it out with a tiny sigh. “Duty calls,” he tells Sam as he checks Natasha’s text.

As he starts to turn away again, Sam calls after him unexpectedly. “Any time you want to stop by the V.A,” he says easily, “make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know.”

The suggestion is a little surprising, but Steve doesn’t have much time to wonder at it though because the revving of a car engine alerts him to his ride. Natasha pulls up smoothly and rolls down the window. “Hey fellas,” she calls. “Either one of you know where the Smithsonian is? I’m here to pick up a fossil.”

“That’s hilarious,” Steve replies dryly as he walks towards her.

Sam watches them leave, and Steve privately wonders if the man is more taken by the car or Natasha. He shrugs and smirks a little. Either way, both are probably dangerous.

oOo

The mission Natasha picks him up for is an emergency one, and SHIELD wastes no time in whisking him and his team out to the Indian Ocean. Rumlow gives them the run down of the situation on the way, showing them a ship that had been taken by pirates.

“Any demands?” Steve asks as he starts trying to mentally plan out the mission.

“Billion and a half,” Rumlow replies, and Steve knows that even with modern inflation that that’s a hefty asking price.

“Why so steep?” he asks, hoping there isn’t some kind of important tech on board that they need to worry about.

“Because it’s SHIELD’s,” Rumlow replies and Steve barely resists rolling his eyes.

“So it’s not off-course, it’s trespassing,” he says glancing over at Natasha in exasperation and hoping that this mission doesn’t have any Hydra subplots. Usually Pierce warns him before hand, but he can never be too careful.

“I’m sure they have a good reason,” Natasha replies blandly, her eyes fixed on the screen.

Let’s hope that reason isn’t Hydra, Steve thinks sourly.

Rumlow continues to run them through the rest of the mission specs, including a boatload of hostages, and Steve raises his eyebrows at one of them. What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship? he thinks uneasily as he starts to pull on his gloves and lay out the orders for the mission. He really really hopes Hydra doesn’t have anything to do with this mission.

The STRIKE team gets busy organizing themselves for the drop and he goes over to coordinate his comm line with Natasha.

“Did you do anything fun Saturday night?” she asks casually as Steve puts in his earpiece. She’d been away last weekend, which had meant that of course Clint had shown up. (If they could only be in one place at one time for more than three seconds than maybe Steve and Tony could actually talk to them about Hydra.)

Pushing away his current dilemma, Steve thinks back on the weekend. “Well. Clint decided to teach me how to play Mario Kart,” he replies, with an amused smirk.

“Sorry to have missed that,” Natasha replies wryly as Rollins informs them of the approaching drop zone. “So, who won?” she asks, her voice rising over the noise of the wind as Steve opens the bay doors.

“I did,” he shouts back smugly before grabbing his shield and leaping out of the plane.

He isn’t wearing a parachute (partly because it gets him down faster but mostly because he knows that Natasha is going to tattle on him next time she sees Tony and then he’ll threaten to permanently sew him into a chute. It’s standard procedure by now and Steve isn’t about to deprive anyone of that ritual.)

Thankfully, the ocean water isn’t freezing (which he hadn’t thought about before hand, but it isn’t so there’s no point in freaking out) but it’s colder than would be desirable, so he’s grateful when he can pull himself onto the boat.

The pirates go down pretty easily thanks to both SHIELD’s and Hydra’s training, and he shoots one of SHIELD’s eavesdropping devices towards the windows of the wheelhouse, figuring it to be the likeliest of places to find the head pirate, Batroc.

His intuition proves correct and he’s forever grateful for Frenchie’s patience in teaching him French during the war as he listens in on Batroc’s conversation.

The rest of the STRIKE team checks in, leaving Natasha and the securing of the boat’s engines the only things needed before the ship can be retaken.

“Natasha, what’s your status?” he asks quietly into his comm. She doesn’t respond right away, and he can’t help the paranoid thought that Hydra has done something. “Status Natasha,” he repeats.

“Hang on!” She replies finally and Steve sits in tense suspense for several seconds before she declares the engines secure.

Okay, he thinks, feeling relieved. Good. Focus back on the mission.   

The STRIKE team takes care of the hostages while Steve ambushes Batroc. His shield shattering the wheelhouse window and taking out Batroc’s fellow pirate before he’s forced to follow the fleeing man himself.

“Hostages in route to extraction,” Rumlow tells him over the comms as Steve tries to catch up with the escaping pirate. “Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap. Hostiles are still in play.”

They’d probably tell me if the mission was a cover to get rid of Natasha, right? Steve thinks desperately as he jumps down a flight of steps. Otherwise they’d know I’d mess it up trying to rescue her.

“Natasha,” he says over the comms, his eyes scanning for the runaway pirate while hoping his friend isn’t being cornered somewhere. “Batroc’s on the move. Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages.” Natasha doesn’t respond and Steve feels his heartbeat increase slightly. “Natasha—”

He’s cut off by a pissed off Batroc and he spends several seconds on the defensive as the man displays more physical prowess than he’d been expecting. (He’s got nothing on Bucky though, so Steve isn’t really worried.)

“Je croiyais que tu étais plus qu'un bouclier,” Batroc taunts after a pause in the fighting.

Steve tilts his head and stares at him.

Maybe on another day he’d be willing to indulge the man, but right now he doesn’t have time. He needs to find Natasha. Still, he makes a show of lifting his shield, as if to stow it away, and Batroc’s satisfied expression turns to shock as he changes course midway through and whips it at the pirate instead.

He’s fast on his feet, I’ll give him that. Steve thinks distractedly as Batroc manages to duck the shield and he’s forced to run forward and catch the rebound.

He doesn’t waste time with exchanging punches, instead choosing to continue running forward, tackling the hijacker and pushing him backwards, breaking down one of the ships doors as they land. One punch later and Batroc is finally out cold.

“Well this is awkward.”

Steve glances up at the unexpected voice and finds Natasha bent over a computer console.

“What are you doing?” he demands, getting up from the floor, his mind racing.

“Backing up the hard drive. It’s a good habit to get into,” Natasha replies easily and Steve feels a stab of anger at her flippant reply.

“Rumlow needed your help,” he snaps, marching over. “What are you doing here—” He cuts himself off as he glances towards the screens. “…You’re saving SHIELD intel,” he states tiredly, done up to here with secret spy organisations and their shady subplots.

“What ever I can get my hands on,” Natasha replies, with a look that says she’s aware of his growing anger.

“Our mission is to rescue hostages,” he says, another wave of irritation going through him because Natasha literally has no idea what kind of danger she’s in, how dangerous it is to act out on the STRIKE team.

“No… that’s your mission,” Natasha insists, grabbing a USB drive from the computer before going to walk past him. “And you’ve done it beautifully,” she adds sweetly.  

Steve grabs her arm as she passes, and she gives him a surprised look at the aggressive action. “You just jeopardized this whole operation,” he grinds out.

Meanwhile, his thoughts are going haywire. What am I supposed to tell Pierce now? he thinks frantically. How am I supposed to cover up for you if I don’t know I need to?!    

“I think that’s overstating things,” Natasha says skeptically and not even a second later Batroc, (who Steve had been too busy cursing secret spy agencies to watch) gets up and throws a live grenade.

It’s second nature to bat the thing away with his shield and grab Natasha before leaping towards the most likely place of Not Dying in the room. Completely in sync with him, Natasha shoots in the windows of an office and they land inside as the bomb goes off.

“Okay,” she says tiredly as the smoke begins to clear. “That’s on me.”

Steve grits his teeth and pushes himself up, brushing off shattered glass from his uniform and cursing SHIELD as he goes.

They’re going to have to report the explosion now no matter what, which means that he’ll have no choice but to mention Natasha’s actions to Pierce, which means that Hydra is now going to be suspicious of Natasha.

Perfect.

oOo

Steve’s anger carries him all the way through regrouping with the STRIKE team (Batroc is no where to be found), and stays with him all the way back to SHIELD headquarters.

“You just can’t stop yourself from lying, can you?” he snaps at Fury as he marches into his office.

“I didn’t lie,” Fury drawls, his face turned away. “Agent Romanoff had a different mission than yours.”

“Which you didn’t feel obliged to share,” Steve bites back, planting himself in front of the man’s desk.  And now, because you didn’t tell me about that, now I can’t stop Hydra from knowing about it, he thinks angrily. And now both of you are in trouble.

“I’m not obliged to do anything,” Fury replies, not even obliging to look at him and Steve grinds his teeth in anger.

“Those hostages could have died Nick,” he says quietly, because he can’t say ‘please don’t do anything suspicious right now sir, Hydra is trying to take over the world’.

Nothing he says really seems to have any effect though, besides escalating the situation further and seemingly getting on Fury’s nerves as the man finally turns and stands at his desk. “Last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye,” he says, to combat Steve’s argument about trust.

I don’t care! Steve thinks bitterly. I just spent the last five minutes on the phone with Pierce trying to cover up for your mission. If I’d known about it, I would have been able to plan for it.

Instead, he hadn’t been able to plan for it and Hydra now knows that someone had sent Natasha on an alternative mission.

“Look,” Fury says evenly. “I didn’t want you doing anything you weren’t comfortable with. Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything.”

Steve almost laughs at that because Fury literally has no idea the kinds of things he’s had to do recently that he’s ‘not comfortable with’. Instead, he shifts irritably and tries to explain in the simplest terms possible that alternative missions are not good for team building.

“It’s called compartmentalization,” Fury replies, his voice equally tight. “Nobody spills the secrets, because nobody knows them all.”

“Except you,” Steve snips, the irony of his words not hidden from him. Compartmentalization, he thinks sourly. Is that what Pierce called it when he decided not to mention that SHIELD is a front for Hydra?

Fury looks down and backs off slightly. “You’re wrong about me,” he says suddenly. “I do share.” He gives Steve a look. “I’m nice like that.”

Steve raises an eyebrow and Fury motions for him to follow him towards the elevator.

“Insight Bay,” he says as they enter, and Steve’s blood runs cold at the words.

“Captain Rogers does not have clearance for Project Insight,” the elevator computer drones as Steve tries to figure out why Fury feels that now of all times is a good time to let him in on SHIELD’s super secret Helicarriers.

Fury overrides the elevator easily and it clunks as it starts moving downwards.

Steve isn’t feeling particularly inclined to make conversation with the Director as they head down, his mind more preoccupied with Hydra, but apparently Fury doesn’t feel the same way.

“You know, my Grandad used to operate one of these elevators,” he says as they head down.

“Did he,” Steve replies flatly, not sure where the conversation is going.

Fury hums and nods. “Yep, used to get lots of tips, kept them in his lunch bag…” He shifts and gives Steve a look. “Kept a loaded .22 Magnum in with his lunch bag too.” Steve raises an eyebrow and Fury shakes his head. “Grandad loved people, but he didn’t trust them very much.”

Outside the glass of the elevator, Insight Bay comes into view and Steve finally sees the hulking Helicarriers for the first time. Rows upon rows of guns line the hulls and he feels a knot of dread curl up in his stomach.  

“I know,” Fury says a little smugly. “They’re a bit bigger than a .22.”   

Yeah, I already know about these, Steve thinks darkly as they get off the elevator and Fury begins showing off the Helicarriers. You wanna know how? Hydra. That’s how. They’re going to use these Helicarriers. I don’t know how, but they are, and I can’t even tell you about it because if I’m not being spied on by Hydra then I’m being spied on by SHIELD, which is basically the same thing and I can’t risk Hydra finding out that I’m a double agent.

“We’re gonna neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen,” Fury tells him proudly, gesturing at the Helicarriers.

Steve wonders if Fury actually hears the words coming out of his mouth. “I thought the punishment usually comes after the crime,” he counters dryly.

“We can’t afford to wait that long,” Fury replies decisively.

“Who’s ‘we’?” Steve questions sharply, quietly hoping to prompt Fury into questioning who exactly he’s working for. Instead Fury goes off to explain how he’d ‘convinced’ the World Security Council for the need to be ‘ahead of the curve’ in threat analysis.

I’m sure they fought your idea so hard, Steve thinks sardonically. “You’re holding a gun to everyone on Earth and calling it protection,” he says instead, which hits a nerve.

Fury turns to face him. “You know,” he says slowly. “I read those SSR files. ‘Greatest Generation’?” He gives Steve an unimpressed look. “You guys did some nasty stuff.”

Steve tries not to grit his teeth. I wasn’t even there for that, he thinks sharply. I never came home from the war, I didn’t get to be the ‘Greatest Generation’. So don’t go laying all their crimes at my feet like I could have done something about it.

He presses his lips together instead of saying any of that, and returns Fury’s look with a hard stare. “Yeah,” he bites out, choosing to address the actions of his generation that he had been alive for. “We compromised,” he says, his mind flashing back to the war. “Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well.” The line hits a little too close to home, but he pushes forward. “But we did it so that people could be free.”

He turns and points to the Helicarriers. “This isn’t freedom,” he insists. “This is fear.”

This is exactly what Hydra wants, he thinks despairingly. They don’t even need a secret plan for these ships, they just need someone who’s willing to build and fire them.

“SHIELD takes the world as it is,” Fury says tightly, leaning in. “Not as we’d like it to be.” He gives Steve a flat look. “It’s about time you get with the program Cap.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Steve bites out, before spinning on his heel and marching away. Pierce’s past words echoing in his mind. Humanity will fight back if their ‘freedom’ is threatened. But make things chaotic enough and… they’ll give it up themselves.

oOo

Steve’s movements are tight with controlled aggression as he changes out of his suit and prepares to leave SHIELD headquarters.

Sometimes…

Sometimes, it feels like he’s the only one who can see clearly in this blasted century.

He wonders absently if Hydra had even needed to plant the Helicarrier idea or if Fury had come up with that one on his own.

Letting out a breath, he straps his shield securely to his motorcycle before hopping on and revving the engine. There’s one person he knows for sure will understand him, and he’s already promised not to go too long between visits anyways.

One quick stop at his apartment to drop off his shield later and Steve finds himself standing in front of Peggy’s door, his stomach swooping uncertainly as he reaches up to knock on the wooden door. A second later and it’s too late to turn back, no matter how much his brain wants to second-guess himself, and he has no choice but to oblige as Peggy calls for him to enter.

He ducks his head slightly as he gets inside and sees that she’s once again propped up in her bed, a part of him wondering if she’s completely bedridden. He hopes not. Peggy was never one to sit idly if she could help it.

“Steve,” she says happily as he goes to sit by her, and he feels something loosen in his chest. “What have you been up to?” she asks and he casts a quick glance around the room. It might be paranoid, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Peggy’s rooms are bugged the same as his.

Sighing a little, he shifts in his chair. “I’ve been working for SHIELD,” he says, picking his words carefully.

Peggy waves her hand dismissively and fixes him with a look. “What do you do for fun Steve?” she insists. “You always worked too much.”

He huffs slightly at that and gives her a fond smile. “Well, it’s not all bad,” he says before swallowing stiffly and glancing away, his mind shifting back to the image of three hulking Helicarriers sitting under the Triskelion.

Peggy reaches for his hand and pulls it towards her. “What is it?” she asks softly.

He looks over and tries his best to give her a smile. “Things are just… different,” he says finally. “I want to do what’s best but…” He glances down. “I’m not sure what that is anymore.”

He squeezes Peggy’s hand and tries not to think about how ‘doing what’s best’ seems to mean ‘pretending to be a Hydra agent’ right now.

Peggy shakes her head and gives him a very familiar amused smile. “You’re always so dramatic,” she says fondly before squeezing his hand back and giving him an intense look. “The world has changed Steve,” she says softly. “None of us can go back.”

He ducks his head and Peggy tugs on his hand more insistently. “All we can do is our best,” she says sagely. “And sometimes, the best that we can do is to, start… over.”

A fit of coughing splits up her last words and Steve glances over to where a glass of water had been set aside. He drops her hand and goes over to it. “Here,” he says gently as he comes back over and offers Peggy the glass.

She glances back up at him and a look of pain and wonderment crosses her face. “Steve,” she whispers.

“Yeah?” he replies softly, his eyebrows furling in confusion.

“You’re alive,” she chokes out and Steve feels something freeze and stab into his gut. “You came… you came back.”

Swallowing the bitter concoction of emotions clawing its way up his throat, Steve does his best to smile. “Yeah, Peggy,” he whispers.

Tears fill Peggy’s eyes and he feels his stomach twist in response. “It’s been so long,” she moans, and he has to blink against his own tears.

“Well, I couldn’t leave my best girl,” he manages to get out. “Not when she owes me a dance.”

oOo

He leaves Peggy’s place more gutted than he’d arrived, and the thought of going back to his empty apartment is almost too much to bear.

All my friends are forgetting me, he thinks morosely before instantly feeling a little guilty. His friends from the past might be forgetting him, but he has managed to make some new friendships here, in the future—present.

He pulls out his phone and debates calling Tony for a moment before deciding against it. While it would be nice to talk to the genius, they wouldn’t be able to talk about the ‘elephant in the room’ so to speak, due to the Hydra/SHIELD bugs on the device, and the conversation would probably be more awkward than necessary.

The thought of the runner he’d met this morning crosses his mind, and he finds himself absentmindedly unlocking his phone and entering the search terms “VA, D.C.” into Google. It takes him a second to figure out where he’s going, but the next thing he knows, he’s back on his motorcycle and following the mental map in his head.

Of course, by the time he gets to the V.A, he’s already second-guessing the entire venture and he spends probably a good five minutes just sitting outside the building, his cap pulled low over his face in an effort to avoid being noticed.

This is a stupid idea, he thinks, glaring at the unassuming brick building and trying to talk himself out of entering. I don’t even know if Sam’s going to be there, he reasons. He probably isn’t expecting me to show up anyways.

He folds his arms defensively and hunkers lower down on his bike. Besides, he continues ranting internally. What is he going to do, it’s not like I can tell him, oh, by the way, I’m lonely and I can’t call my friends because one’s senile, one’s an assassin for a terrorist organization and one’s probably being spied on by said organization.

Yeah, he thinks, nodding determinedly. This is a stupid idea.

Let it be known that Steve Rogers isn’t very good at avoiding stupid ideas or backing down from a challenge, because almost against his will he finds himself walking up to the V.A. and opening the doors.

I’m just doing it to surprise Sam, he thinks firmly as he makes his way towards the front desk. He’ll probably think it’s funny.

“Can I help you?” the lady at the front desk asks, effectively shattering any and all of Steve’s prepared words.

He opens his mouth and his mind stalls. What am I doing?? he thinks frantically as a sweat break out over his palms and his heartbeat doubles in pace.

“I… is… is Sam Wilson here?” He asks finally, wishing he could turn around and retreat back outside. Or maybe just spontaneously combust. That would be better.  

The lady at the desk smiles gently at him and motions down a hallway. “He’s doing a group session in the first room there,” she says. “It’s almost finished though.”

“Okay, thank you,” he bursts out, ducking his head and jamming his hands in his pockets before edging away from the awkward situation.

It’s fine, he thinks stubbornly as he makes his way down the hall and his heartbeat refuses to calm down. It’s fine. This is fine.

He finds Sam standing in front of a podium in a small gym, a few rows of chairs spread out in front of him, the people in the room all seeming to be listening to a woman as she speaks.   

“It’s just so frustrating sometimes.” He hears her say softly, looking down at her hands. “I know I’m being irrational, that I’m not in danger or anything but...” She looks up and gives a grimace. “Next thing I know I’m having a panic attack at the grocery store.”

Steve swallows, his hands clenching in his pockets as he tries to linger inconspicuously by the door. He shifts his gaze up to Sam as the man leans over the podium.

“It’s okay to be frustrated,” he says to his audience. “It’s even okay to be irrational sometimes. It’s important to remember that what we’re going through isn’t just something we can think away, but we can work on it, a little bit each day,” he shrugs. “Some days are just harder than others, and if you’re best for that day is less than before, there’s no shame in that.”

Steve’s teeth clench and he glances away as he thinks back unhelpfully to the incident with the fireworks, the bed that he hardly sleeps on, and the gym in the tower with its piles of broken punching bags. Was that the kind of thing Sam was talking about?

Letting out a sigh, his eyes drift around the gymnasium and he wonders quietly if maybe this was also the kind of help that Tony had been talking about.

The meeting comes to a close and he shifts away as people begin filing out of the room.

“Look who it is.” He hears Sam say as the man approaches him, a gentle but amused look on his face. “The running man.”

Steve shifts and pushes his hands deeper into his pockets. “I just caught the last few minutes,” he says by way of explanation. “It’s pretty intense.”

Sam walks past him and starts to collect some pamphlets laid out on a near by table. Steve has a sudden split-second urge to grab one and he clenches his fists as he pushes it down. He can’t grab one now. Maybe after Hydra goes down, but not now.

“We all got the same problems,” Sam says knowingly. “Guilt. Regret.”

Steve swallows and flickers his eyes over Sam. “You lose someone?” he asks quietly.

“My wingman.” Sam looks down and shuffles the papers. “Riley.” He glances back up at Steve and speaks about his last mission with the practiced nonchalance of someone who’s lived with and dealt with the pain of losing someone for a very long time. “Felt like I was up there just to watch,” he says, and Steve tries not to find parallels between Bucky’s fall from the train and Sam’s story.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly.

Sam shrugs. “After that, I had a really hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know?”

Steve’s throat clenches and he glances away. He does know, and the rest of the world knows it too, at least a little, because Bucky Barnes died and then Captain America saved the world by crashing a plane full of bombs into the ocean.

He opens his mouth to continue his conversation with Sam, but he’s cut off as his phone lets out a jarring ring. He gives a little start before reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out the device.

The words [Restricted Number] stare up at him from the screen, and he feels a ball of dread form in his stomach. ‘Restricted number’ basically means ‘Hydra’ on his phone.

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he says to Sam before excusing himself and heading outside, trying to find a secluded corner where he’s less likely to be overheard.

“Hello?” he says, trying not to sound too cautious.

“We need you to come in,” Pierce says by way of a greeting and Steve feels his gut clench.

“Sir?” he replies, his shoulders squaring as he straightens unconsciously and his voice shifts into Captain Mode.

“You and the Asset have a new mission,” Pierce rattles off. “Report to the Vault immediately.”

“Yes sir,” Steve replies automatically as he glances around to locate his motorcycle. “What is the target?”

“Nicholas Fury,” Pierce states, the words sending rivers of ice down Steve’s spine. “He’s become a threat to Hydra, eliminate it.”    

Chapter Text

Steve spends the ride to the Bank Hydra base almost numb with panic and frantic horror, his thoughts darting around desperately as he works madly to come up with some sort of plan.

What do I do? he questions wildly as he turns into the bank’s parking lot. If I call Tony, Hydra will know right away. That, plus the fact that Tony will probably not be able to get to D.C. fast enough to make a difference, makes him reluctant to break cover and call the engineer for help.

But Fury’s life is in danger! His thoughts scream at him. Now would be a good time to break cover!

Letting out a breath, Steve tries to relax and make his way into the Hydra base. Would Fury want me to? he thinks suddenly as he walks down the dim halls. Would Fury want me to break cover and jeopardize my chances at stopping Hydra just to save his life?

He thinks back to his recent conversation with the director of SHIELD and swallows heavily. He gets the feeling that Fury would be unlikely to break cover in any situation, even for this. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he stops stiffly in front of Bucky’s cell. I might not be able to break cover, he decides grimly. But I’m not going to stand idly by either.

He wrenches the door open and Bucky is already standing at attention inside the small room. “Let’s go,” he says tightly. “We’ve got a mission to prepare for.”

oOo

Amid the busy rush of the Hydra base, Steve changes into a black SWAT uniform that had been provided for him, his skin crawling with every touch, before he waves away the technicians and goes to suit up Bucky himself.

Bucky stands almost doll-like while Steve hands him his various weapons and it makes him almost sick to see it, but he’s had enough of watching the rough way the other Hydra agents jerk Bucky around while prepping him for a mission to let anyone else do it. His stomach rolls though, as he hands Bucky his mask and goggles, his mind flashing back to the muzzle that had been slapped over Loki’s mouth almost a year ago.

One of the many nameless agents of the base darts forward with a file and Steve flips through it, his eyes noting the mission parameters and timeframe. He absentmindedly hands the file over to Bucky to read, his mind consumed with frantic strategizing as he tries to think himself out of the hole he’s fallen into.

He glances over at Bucky, his former friend’s face almost unreadable thanks to the mask, his goggles hanging loosely from his hand as he scans the file in front of him. A thought crosses his mind and Steve almost gapes. Over the decades, Hydra had conditioned Bucky to follow their orders without question, so it should be impossible for him to disregard the parameters of a mission.

But, now Steve is the one giving the orders. And Bucky had been following his orders long before he was ever captured by Hydra.

Everyone did say that Bucky responded better to him…

Maybe, maybe he could use that.

The plan for the mission seems too… dramatic to Steve, but Hydra seems to want to try and eliminate Fury with regular agents first, before bringing in the Asset. Something about keeping Bucky as inconspicuous as possible.  

“You’ll stay in the shadows and direct him,” Rollins tells him as the agents suit up and get ready to depart. “The less people see of you the better.”

Steve nods quietly and both he and Bucky remain silent as they enter and sit stiffly in the van full of agents. I just need a moment alone with him, he thinks desperately as they start driving. That’s all I need. One moment.

After several twists and turns, the van slows to a stop and Rollins reaches over to drop two small devices into his hand. “Here are your comms,” he says roughly. “We’ll alert you if the Asset needs to be brought in.”

Steve gives a tight nod before curling his fist around the earpieces and exiting the van with the rest of the agents, Bucky trailing behind him like a murderous shadow. The other agents lift their guns and dart away to where Steve knows from their chatter that Fury is cornered. Anxiety twists in his stomach as he watches them leave. Even if he could somehow keep Bucky from killing Fury, it might mean nothing if the other agents are able to kill him first.

Letting out a quiet breath, he turns to Bucky, his hand tight around the comms he’d been given. “We wait here until further orders,” he says stiffly, and he wishes he could read Bucky’s face behind his mask and goggles.

A muffled ‘confirmed’ is Bucky’s only reply.

Steve sighs and reaches up to put his earpiece in, and freezes, his eyes darting around them as he realises that they are completely alone. He drops his hand and cranes his head around, his mind racing as he tries to decide whether Hydra could have any listening bugs around.

It’s now or never, he thinks grimly, his hand closing around the earpieces again as he turns to Bucky. Squaring his shoulders, he raises his head and tries to act like he’s not about to betray Hydra.

He really really hopes this works.

“Asset,” he says firmly, and he can see Bucky’s body language change into that of a soldier receiving orders. Taking a breath Steve sends off one last desperate prayer before continuing determinedly. “The mission parameters have changed. Target Nicholas Fury is not to be killed.”

He squeezes the comms tighter in his fist, hoping that if they are designed to spy on him that he can keep them from overhearing anything. “New mission,” he continues, never once breaking eye contact with Bucky. “Injure target Nicholas Fury enough to be presumed dead, repeat, do not kill.”

He tilts his chin up, trying to look as authoritative as possible. “Hydra must think that target Nicholas Fury is not a threat...” He swallows and very carefully does not fidget. “Tell no one of these changes in parameters,” he finishes firmly, hoping desperately that Bucky will even have a chance at fulfilling these orders. For all he knows, some other Hydra agent might just shoot Fury and be done with it.

Bucky stares at him in silence for a long moment and Steve feels a sudden rush of fear that Bucky might be conditioned to report him if he deviates from Hydra’s directive. Something seems to shift in Bucky before he nods once. “Yes sir,” he replies evenly and Steve blinks at the lack of the usual monotone ‘confirmed’.

Does this mean… does this mean Bucky will follow his orders over Hydra’s?

“Thank you, Buck,” he says softly, the nickname slipping out unconsciously as his shoulders drop and he uncurls his fists around the earpieces.

That finished, he finally goes to slip in his comms, handing Bucky’s over as he scans the perimeter instinctively, his body tense as he waits for them to be called into the fight. The sound of gunfire and frustrated shouting echoes over the comms and he feels a small sense of satisfaction at the fact that Fury must be giving Hydra a hard time.

“Initial assault failed,” Rollins reports tensely over the comms. “Target is in his vehicle heading Northwest. We’ve blocked off Roosevelt Bridge.” The sound of screeching tires interrupts him for a moment. “The only clear route is 17^th Ave!” He shouts. “Go there!”

“We’re on our way,” Steve replies as he motions for Bucky to follow him before leaping into the waiting van and throwing it into gear.

“Quickest route to 17^th avenue,” he demands distractedly as Bucky swings into the passenger side. (He forgets for a second that he’s not leading a Commandos mission, that the rest of the Commandos aren’t going to pile into the back of the truck behind him, and that no one is going to tease him about his reckless driving because no one is alive to even remember that that was a thing).

“Turn here,” Bucky orders, his voice rocketing Steve back into the present. Giving his head a little shake, he whips the wheel of the van to the left and sucks in a tight breath as he tries to follow the directive while also trying not to hit anything else in the process.

He wonders absentmindedly if Bucky’s handlers usually allow him to give orders during missions or if this is something completely foreign to him. Doesn’t matter, he thinks grimly as he presses down on the gas peddle and weaves around the cars in front of him. When this is over, he can give all the orders he wants.

“Target approaching, Cap,” Rollins informs him over the comms.

“Stop here,” Bucky says at the same time and Steve reacts immediately, pressing down on the brakes and bringing the van to an abrupt halt. His heartbeat doubles as Bucky reaches down for his weapon—a magnetic bomb launcher if he remembers correctly— and swings himself out of the car with brutal efficiency. Steve’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel and his stomach crawls up into his throat as he watches Bucky walk purposely forward.

Please don’t kill him, he thinks desperately. Please don’t kill him, please don’t–

Fury’s car comes into view and time seems to slow as Bucky plants himself in the middle of the road—raises his gun—and fires.

Steve’s heart joins his stomach in his throat as Fury’s car explodes and flips over, skidding down the street with a horrible screech of metal on asphalt. Bucky looks almost impassive as he steps smoothly out of the way and starts walking purposely towards the smoking vehicle.

“A 911 call got through,” someone says suddenly over the comms. “We’ve got about 5 minutes before EMS shows up on scene.”

A flame of hope rises up in Steve’s chest. That’s perfect. Bucky can do whatever he has to do in order to nonlethally injure Fury enough for them to claim that they thought he was dead, and then Emergency Services can rescue him once they’ve vacated the area.

Of course, that would have to mean that Bucky doesn’t actually kill Fury in the first place.

Out in the street, Bucky stalks to the turned over car and rips the door away in a feat of awesome strength. Steve feels his chest constrict and the steering wheel under his hands lets out a groan of protest as the assassin leans down to look inside.

Bucky stares into the car for a moment before straightening mechanically and putting a hand to his ear. “Target escaped,” he explains dully over the comms. “Location of target, unknown.”

All the air seems to leave Steve’s lungs at once and he slumps back in his seat. He lets his eyes close for a second as he gathers his wits about him before opening them again and taking control of the situation.

“Regroup,” he orders over the sounds of disbelief echoing over the comms. “We need to find Fury as soon as possible.” Bucky turns and marches back towards the van as various affirmatives filter through the comms and Rollins orders someone to get a bead on Fury.

That was the most stressful thing I’ve ever done, Steve thinks tiredly as Bucky settles into the seat beside him and he restarts the van. And once we find Fury again, we’re going to have to do it all over again.

oOo

Even injured from an attempted assassination, Fury proves to be a difficult man to find and it takes Hydra the better part of the day to get a fix on his location.

“He just entered Captain Rogers’ apartment!” A tech agent exclaims excitedly, and around her, the Vault explodes into a flurry of activity.

Rumlow, who had shown up earlier to supplement the team now that they were down several members, leans over her shoulder to get a better look at the screen. “We should send the Asset out,” Rumlow says, glancing over at Steve. “He can snipe him there no problem.”

Steve nods along, trying to ignore the growing pile of knots that his stomach is becoming. “Send me in first,” he says, and Rumlow gives him a surprised look. “Not as an agent,” he clarifies before nodding towards the screen. “Fury must have chosen my apartment for a reason, and I usually come home this time of night anyways. It’d look weird if I didn’t show up.”

Rumlow quirks an eyebrow and gives him a thoughtful look. “What do you suggest?” he asks.

Steve feels a little tension bleed out of his shoulders and he tries not to let on how relieving it is to be able to have some control over the mission to kill Nick Fury. “I’ll go in as a civilian,” he explains. “I’ll see what he wants, and the Asset will follow our progress from afar before completing the mission.”

Rumlow nods. “Sounds good to me,” he says dismissively. “I’ll let Pierce know.”

Steve relaxes slightly and turns to address Bucky beside him. “Sniping mission,” he says shortly. “Be ready in ten.”

“Confirmed,” Bucky replies dryly as Steve turns away to go get changed into his civilian clothes.

Please remember not to kill him, he thinks desperately as he makes his way to the locker room. I don’t want his blood on my hands… or yours.

The ride to his apartment is even tenser than the ride to the bank and he keeps seeing phantom Buckies darting over the rooftops out of the corner of his eye.

Get it together, he thinks as he pulls to a stop at a red light. There’s no way Bucky would allow himself to be seen on the way to eliminate a target. The light changes and he lets out a breath as he pushes off and continues the ride home, his mind drifting back to the mission parameters that he’d set out.

“Mission parameters still in effect,” he’d told Bucky, hoping that he’d pick up on the implied ‘don’t kill the target’ part of the orders. “I’ll probably have to chase after you once you’ve shot Fury in order to keep up appearances. Find somewhere secluded and wait for me.”

Bucky’s eyes had seemed to flicker minutely around the room before darting back to Steve’s. “Confirmed,” he’d said, his eyes never leaving Steve’s face.

I hope that means what I think it means, he thinks grimly as he parks his bike and shuts it off. He consciously avoids scanning the rooftops around him and ducks his head as he slips inside his apartment complex. He makes his way up the stairs at hopefully a leisurely pace, his eyes flickering distractedly over his neighbor Kate as she exits her room.

She’s doing laundry, he thinks as he edges past her. Good, that means she’ll be in the basement and far away from any potential firepower.

“Oh hey.” He stops up short as she calls after him and tries to school his expression into something resembling patience. “I think you left your stereo on,” she tells him, and Steve just barely keeps from sighing.

“Thank you,” he tells her as he mentally reworks his plan. He knows for a fact that he hasn’t left anything on, which means Fury had probably turned it on as a way to warn him that something sketchy is going on, which means that Steve now has to act like something sketchy is going on.

Breathing in deeply, he backtracks slightly, checking to make sure his neighbor doesn’t see him as he exits the building again and starts to scale the fire escape. The music from his room is almost too loud for his sensitive ears and he tries not to wince as he eases his window open and crawls inside.

He has a good idea of where Fury will be, since he’s already figured out the blind spots in his apartment, and his intuition proves correct as he sweeps up his shield from the floor and finds Fury lounging in the dark by his record collection.

Remember, he doesn’t know that I knew it was going to be him, he thinks quickly as he makes a show of looking annoyed and relaxing slightly at the sight of Fury. “I don’t remember giving you a key,” he says as he scans the man in front of him, trying to get a read on his injuries.

Fury groans slightly as he sits up and grabs onto his phone. “You really think I’d need one?” he asks dryly and Steve represses a sigh. “My wife… kicked me out.” Fury offers by way of explanation.

Steve raises an eyebrow, although it’s probably too dark for Fury to see. “Didn’t know you were married,” he states while trying not to glance at the windows in the room to try and spot Bucky.

“A lot of things you don’t know about me,” Fury responds quietly.

Steve lets out a real sigh and goes over to flick on the lights. “I know, Nick,” he replies tightly. “That’s the problem.”

The lamp in the corner flickers on and he catches sight of Fury’s injuries for the first time, the blood on his face reflecting dimly in the light. Fury lifts his hand before tugging the lamp cord off again and typing something onto his phone.

EARS EVERYWHERE it says, and Steve has to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

Yeah I know, he thinks a tad bitterly, not bothering to hide his annoyance. I found them all already, thank you very much.

“Sorry to have to do this but I had no place else to crash,” Fury says carefully before typing something else onto his phone.

SHIELD COMPROMISED it declares and Steve’s eyes flicker up to Fury’s. That must be why Hydra put a hit out for him. He thinks uneasily. He got suspicious of something and they noticed.

“Who else knows about your wife?” he asks picking his words carefully. Who else knows about SHIELD? He’s hoping that Fury has some sort of plan in place, but his hopes are dashed almost immediately.

“Just… my friends,” Fury replies as he stands laboriously and types out the text YOU AND ME, which isn’t very helpful since Steve isn’t exactly in a position to do much about SHIELD right now. He’s almost willing to bet that he has more eyes on him than Fury does.

He forgets all about that though because the next second Bucky shoots through the wall and Fury collapses, a groan breaking past his lips as Steve drags him over to the kitchen. Bucky must have figured out where Fury was off of my position, he thinks as his eyes scan the windows. If it wasn’t so terrifying, it’d be impressive.

Fury’s hand tightens on his wrist and he looks down in surprise as he becomes aware of something hard pressing into his arm. “Don’t… trust anyone,” Fury rasps out as he opens his hand to reveal the USB that Natasha had made of SHIELD’s files.   

You have no idea, Steve thinks despairingly as he grabs the device and a sudden banging sounds at his front door.

What—? he thinks frantically as the wood splinters and caves in beneath the assault. Invading his apartment had not been part of the plan, surely Hydra would have told him about that—

“Captain Rogers?” a familiar voice sounds across his apartment and he feels his brain stall. “Captain,” the invader continues, looking suspiciously like his neighbor from next door. “I’m Agent 13 of SHIELD,” she explains as she points her gun around the room. “I’m assigned to protect you.”

“On whose order?” he demands, the appearance of his not-neighbor throwing another unnecessary wrench into his plans.

“His,” ‘Agent 13’ says grimly as she catches sight of Fury on the floor behind him and reaches into her scrubs to pull out a radio of all things. “Foxtrot is down,” she reports into it, crouching over Fury. “He’s unresponsive, I need EMTs.”

A wave of relief at the call overshadows his annoyance at her unexpected presence. Perfect, he thinks as he scans the room. She’ll call 911 and hopefully Bucky hasn’t killed Fury.

“Do we have a 20 on the shooter?” the radio asks and he jumps at the opportunity.

“Tell them I’m in pursuit,” he orders Agent 13, hefting his shield higher as his eyes catch sight of Bucky’s arm reflecting on the rooftop across the street.

If Agent 13 responds before he bursts off, he doesn’t hear it, not caring much about property damage as he tries to predict Bucky’s route and end point. He lifts his shield up to protect himself as he crashes through a window and lands on a low rooftop, bits of glass sprinkling around him as he catches sight of Bucky.

In front of him, Bucky abruptly stops his retreat and spins around. His eyes flickering to meet his, before glancing down to his shield and back up again and Steve has a sudden realisation that this might be the first time that Bucky has seen his shield in almost 70 years.

“Mission accomplished,” Bucky says, his eyes intense under the dark camouflage he’s wearing.

“Well done,” Steve tells him, taking a breath and desperately hoping that the mission that Bucky completed is the one that he’d given him. “Return to base and await further orders.”

Bucky nods once, his eyes seeming to skate over Steve and his shield again, before he turns and drops over the edge of the building, as silent as a shadow.

 Letting out a low breath, Steve rolls his shoulders and turns back to go and deal with the mess waiting back at his apartment. He can already hear the sirens of an approaching ambulance and can only hope that they’re not too late.

oOo

When he gets back, a cloud of SHIELD agents is swarming around his apartment and it’s declared ‘unsafe’ for him to stay there.

He catches sight of several members of the STRIKE team and he nods at them before arguing his way into being escorted to the hospital that Fury is staying at, claiming that with the level of security that Fury will have, there could be no safer place for him to be right now than by his side. It isn’t very hard to argue his point because Rumlow and Rollins are assigned to escort him and they want to go to the hospital anyways. Not that Steve finds their presence particularly comforting though.

At the hospital, they’re rushed into an observatory room where Fury is being operated on and Steve tries not to be alarmed by the amount of blood Fury seems to have lost. He’s slightly surprised to see Hill in the room when he enters, and he wonders when she had gotten to D.C. She’s finishing up a phone call as he comes into the room, and he realises who she must have been calling when a few minutes later, Natasha rushes into the room.

She stops in front of the window and stares at Fury lying limply on the operating table and the sight of her sends sudden rush of guilt through him at the fact that he has yet to call Tony. Fury’s targeting probably counts as an emergency, but Steve isn’t sure how much help Tony would be right now. He’s not sure if it’s worth blowing his cover to call Tony out when there’s nothing he can actually do against Hydra since they still aren’t sure exactly what Hydra is planning.

“Is he going to make it?” Natasha asks roughly, breaking into Steve’s internal debate.

“I don’t know,” he replies gravely, his eyes fixed on the doctors as they operate. If Bucky followed his orders than Fury should make it, but Steve can’t help but notice the undertone of desperation that follow the doctors’ movements.

“Tell me about the shooter,” Natasha demands darkly and Steve swallows as he mentally becomes aware of the two Hydra agents in the room behind them.

“He’s fast. Strong,” he says, choosing his words carefully, trying to figure out what he can and can’t give away. “Had a metal arm.”

Hill rattles off the ballistics from the bullets and Steve wonders if he’s given too much away somehow when Natasha guesses them to be Soviet made. He doesn’t have much time to think about that though because in front of them the operating room seems to get even more frantic as Fury suddenly flatlines.

“Defibrillator!” He hears one of the doctors call and his stomach drops as they start trying to shock Fury’s heart back online.

No, he thinks desperately as they up the charge. No please no. Something sick curls up in his stomach and all of the sudden he can’t watch anymore. He turns away stiffly, barely sparing a glance at Rumlow as he exits the room.

“Time of death,” the doctor’s voice seems to follow him out into the hallway. “1:03 A.M.”

He’d thought that Bucky would have listened to him, he’d hoped…

Out in the hall Steve bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to let on how distressed he is. The hospital is crawling with Hydra agents right now, he can’t afford to look weak. Letting out a breath, he leans back against the wall and jams his hands into his jacket pockets, almost giving a start when he comes across Fury’s USB drive.

I can’t keep this, he thinks frantically as he scans the hallway for Hydra agents. I need to keep this hidden from Pierce.

They let them see Fury’s body after it’s been cleaned up, and Steve feels a wave of guilt at Natasha’s obvious heartache over Fury’s death. I’m sorry, he thinks wretchedly as he watches her. I’m sorry I didn’t stop this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m so, so sorry.

He feels his phone vibrate against his leg as Hill comes in to take Fury’s body and he checks it as he follows Natasha out of the room.

Restricted Number

Today, 6:34 am

Report to Triskelion for debriefing. – P

Irritation and anxiety rushes through him and the weight of the USB in his pocket seems to double in size.

“Why was Fury in your apartment?” Natasha asks suddenly, spinning around to face him and Steve feels his heartbeat speed up as he mentally checks the positions of the dozen Hydra agents in the vicinity.

He stuffs his phone back in his pocket and his fingers brush the USB. “I don’t know,” he says as he pulls his hand out of his pocket and rests it on Natasha’s arm as if comforting her.

Her eyes barely flicker as she feels the USB press against her, and Steve drags his hand down her arm to press the drive into her hand. “I have to go report to SHIELD,” he says carefully. “Take care of yourself Nat. I’ll talk to you later.”

Her eyes linger on his as she grips his hand and seamlessly claims the USB for herself before ghosting it away. “Take care Rogers,” she replies evenly, her face unreadable.

I’ll try, he thinks grimly as he turns back to where Rumlow is waiting. But that’s all I can promise.   

Chapter Text

As he arrives at the Triskelion and changes into his suit for his debriefing, Steve can’t help worrying that somehow Pierce has found out about his alternative orders to Bucky and is about to… make his displeasure known, so to speak. So despite his best efforts, his shoulders are tense as he enters Pierce’s office and his eyes dart about as he scans the room reflexively, noting all the exits and potential cover positions.

Contrary to his worst fears though, Pierce doesn’t seem upset at all, instead reaching out for a handshake and congratulating him on his successful mission before motioning him over to his set of couches.

“What’s the cover story surrounding Fury’s death?” Steve asks as he settles onto the leather cushion, angling himself towards Pierce’s desk.   

“Funny you should ask that,” Pierce says as he hits a few buttons on his desk and calls up a display screen on the wall. Steve’s eyebrows rise slightly in surprise when he sees a video of a rather subdued Batroc being questioned in some sort of cement room.

“Is this live?” he asks after a moment.

Pierce nods as he comes over and sits down with several files. “He was picked up last night at a not-so-safe-house.” He flips open one of the files and fans them out on the low table between them. “Turns out, he was hired by our own Nicholas Fury to hijack the Lumerian Star.”

Steve leans forward to examine the lists of pay statements in front of him and flicks his eyes up to look at Pierce. “A front to get Natasha into position to download the file?” he guesses.

Pierce nods again and settles back. “Looks like it,” he replies. “After Nick tried to look through those files, he found himself locked out and asked me to delay the launch of the Helicarriers.”

Steve presses his lips together, feeling slightly relieved by the fact that Fury hadn’t been completely blind to the possible shadiness of the Helicarriers. “I imagine that’s why he needed to be eliminated then.”

Pierce shrugs. “We’re too close now to have Fury’s sudden paranoia threaten to mess with our plans,” he explains before flashing a smile at Steve. “Of course, everyone now believes that Fury is a traitor, someone who hijacked his own ship to try and sell state secrets.”

“And that’s why he was targeted,” Steve realises, sitting back on the couch as Hydra’s plan becomes apparent. “A sale gone bad, nothing to do with SHIELD at all.”

Pierce smirks and begins gathering up the papers. “Got it in one, Captain,” he says pleasantly. “And because you and the Asset did so well today, Fury is no longer a threat to us.”  

Steve’s gut clenches and he fights to keep from tensing up and losing the bland expression on his face. “Thank you, sir,” he says carefully.

Pierce leans back on the couch behind him looking quite pleased with himself. “You were with Nick right before he died right?” he asks casually. “Did he say anything?”

Steve shifts and thinks that lying about anything at this point would be pointless since Pierce could always check the bugs in his apartment to verify his statement. “I think his goal was to warn me that SHIELD was compromised,” he says, clasping his hands in his lap. “He warned me not to trust anyone.” He gives Pierce a sly smile. “Of course, he didn’t know how true that statement was.”

Pierce looks smug and returns Steve’s smile with one of his own. “Indeed Captain,” he says with a self-satisfied tilt of his head. “We are lucky that you played your part so well with him.”

Steve dips his head at the complement as his toes curl in his boots. “All for the greater good of the mission,” he replies diplomatically before being interrupted by a knock on Pierce’s door.

A look of confusion passes over Pierce’s face and he doesn’t even have time to respond before the door is pushed open and Rumlow ducks into the room.

“Sir, we have a situation,” he says urgently as he closes the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, his heartbeat kicking up a notch as both he and Pierce stand up from the couches.

Rumlow strides over to Pierce’s computer and types in a few commands. The video of Batroc is quickly replaced by a different one, this time showing what seems to be a busy computer store, with a clear view of Natasha bent over one of the many laptops.

“Surveillance picked this up about two minutes ago when she activated the SHIELD USB drive,” Rumlow explains as they turn to watch the video.

“So that’s where the pesky thing ended up,” Pierce says quietly before turning to Rumlow. “What’s her location?”

“She’s in the Apple Store in the City Centre Mall,” Rumlow replies. “Do you want us to retrieve her sir? I could send in the team.”

Panic shoots through him and Steve takes an aborted step forward. “That would just cause a scene,” he argues quickly, desperately hoping that Hydra won’t try to kill another one of his friends today. “And I doubt Black Widow would be that easily caught.”

Pierce turns to look at him. “We’re on a time limit Captain,” he says tightly. “What do you suggest?”

Steve squares his shoulders and stands at attention. “Send me in,” he says determinedly. “If Natasha has the USB drive, then she probably suspects that SHIELD is compromised.” He offers them a small smile. “She’ll trust me though, and I can make sure she stays out of the way.”

Pierce looks thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “That is acceptable,” he says. “Get changed into civilian clothes. The STRIKE team will deliver you to her location.” He gives Steve a look. “Stick to her like glue Captain.” He orders.

“Yes sir,” Steve replies before turning and marching swiftly out of the room, Rumlow following behind him at a fast clip, already rattling off orders into his phone for a car to be brought around.

He strips out of his suit with practiced hands (a small part of him wondering why he even bothered changing into the thing in the first place), before snatching up his shield and heading to the waiting SHIELD van.

“I’ll need this van to be vacated once we get to the mall,” he tells Rumlow and the driver as they speed towards Natasha’s location. “I’ll need somewhere to stash my shield and Black Widow is unlikely to trust me if I’m being tailed by SHIELD agents.”

Rumlow nods, his phone to his ear as he listens to a report on Natasha’s location. “Understood, Cap,” he says. “We’ll leave her in your hands.” He hangs up as the van pulls into the mall parking lot and yanks the door open for Steve. “Nat’s still in the store,” he tells him before pulling out his phone again and radioing for an extraction for him and the other STRIKE agent.

Steve lets out a slow breath and makes his way into the mall as quickly as possible without drawing attention to himself. Even though he knows that the STRIKE team won’t follow him into the mall, he finds himself scanning the crowd reflexively and his heart leaps when he catches sight of a familiar redhead.

Picking up his pace, he rounds a corner and falls into step with Natasha. She glances up at him without breaking stride and darts her eyes about the mall in a sweep for hostiles.

“Romanoff,” he acknowledges with a nod as they begin to make a circuit around the mall.

“Rogers,” she replies calmly. “You come here often?”

He places his hands casually in his pants pockets and shrugs. “Only when my friends are trying to infiltrate a super secret spy organisation and said organisation sends me to keep an eye on them.”

Natasha’s eyes dart up to his before flickering around them. “Should I be expecting the cavalry anytime soon?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

Steve turns with her as they continue to circle the mall. “SHIELD just wants me to keep track of you,” he says carefully. “They didn’t say anything about stopping you.”

Natasha gives him a long thoughtful look before nodding once and leaning into him as they pass a crowd of teenagers. “I can’t read the file,” she admits quietly. “There’s some sort of AI or code that’s preventing me from hacking it. But…” She glances up at him. “I know where the signal came from.” She flashes a smile at him. “You up for a road trip Cap?”

Steve offers her his own small grin. “I think I could be talked into it,” he says as he shifts and starts directing them towards the mall parking lot.

Natasha follows him easily enough to the parking lot, but she stops up short at the sight of the van. “We can’t take that,” she says sharply. “That’s SHIELD’s.”

Steve sighs and stops to face her. “I know,” he says tiredly. “But right now, as long as I’m in the picture, SHIELD thinks everything is under control.” He gestures to the van. “We fall off the grid or act too suspiciously and they’ll start a manhunt for both of us.”

Natasha scowls unhappily at that but her face soon clears. “First rule of going on the run,” she says as she starts making her way towards the hulking vehicle. “Don’t run, walk.”

Steve lets out a sigh of relief and goes to jerk open the driver’s side. “So where are we headed?” he asks as he hops in and turns the keys in the ignition.

“New Jersey,” Natasha says as she settles into her seat. “Somewhere called Camp Lehigh.”

oOo

The drive to Camp Lehigh isn’t exactly awkward, but it’s long, and both he and Natasha are all too aware of where they are sitting and the possible dangers of their situation. It’s probably paranoid to assume that the van is somehow bugged, but at this point, Steve really wouldn’t put it past SHIELD/Hydra, and as such, he has to fight down the growing urge to breakdown and finally tell Natasha about Hydra.

I’m going to have to tell her eventually, he thinks frustratedly as his hands tighten on the steering wheel. There’s no way we’re getting out of this without that coming up.

Beside him, Natasha slouches and kicks her feet up onto the dash. She seems to be watching him contemplatively as he drives, her hands stuffed safely into her jacket pockets. “I know who killed Fury,” she says suddenly, her rough voice breaking the silence that had been growing between them.

Steve’s stomach clenches and he gives her a surprised look before turning back to focus on the road. He clears his throat. “Can you find them?” he asks, unsure how else to respond.

Natasha shakes her head and turns to stare out the front window. “He’s impossible to find,” she says quietly. “Most of the intelligence community doesn’t even believe he exists.” Her eyes turn to stare into him again. “Those that do call him the Winter Soldier.”

Steve flicks his eyes over to her for a moment and he swallows uneasily. “Sounds like a difficult man to catch,” he says, his mind flashing back to the Vault where he realises that Bucky is probably shut up in his cell again, shut down and put away, now that he isn’t needed.

Natasha nods, her eyes again focusing straight ahead. “I met him once already,” she tells him and Steve glances over at her in surprise. She flashes him a sharp smile and shifts a little in her seat. “Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran.” She explains. “He shot out my tires and we went over a cliff.” Her eyes seem to un-focus a little, as she stares out onto the road. “I was covering my engineer, and he shot him, straight through me.”

Steve glances at her briefly, as if he could somehow assess the damage that Bucky’s gun had caused all those years ago, before focusing back on the road. He hadn’t realised that Natasha had met Bucky already. Both he and Tony had read that mission file, but it hadn’t mentioned the name of the operative guarding the target, only mentioning that she had been injured but not killed.

Let’s hope she isn’t too upset about that, he thinks tiredly as he adjusts his grip on the steering wheel and starts scanning the road ahead of him for the approaching turn off. 

Camp Lehigh greets him like a punch to the face and Steve has to blink away phantoms of the past as he follows Natasha into the abandoned base. This place is where it all started, he thinks forlornly as he adjusts the shield on his arm. And ended.

Natasha has some sort of device that she can use to scan the camp and while she’s occupied with that, Steve uses the time to update SHIELD and hopefully reassure Pierce of his continued loyalty.

Today, 6:41 pm

Situation under control.

He quickly presses send and pockets his phone as Natasha circles back to him, her eyebrows furled as she presses a few buttons on her device.

“Well this place is a dead end,” she states flatly, dropping her arm. “Zero heat signatures, zero waves, not even radio.” She purses her lips. “Whoever wrote this must have used a router to throw people off.” Steve raises his eyebrows at that, considering how his text had gone through. That either says something about Stark Phones or Hydra, and he’s not sure which.

He’d secretly been hoping that Fury’s drive would give them an edge in defeating Hydra, so he can’t help the pang of disappointment that he feels, learning that Camp Lehigh is useless to them. His eyes scan the buildings around him listlessly before stopping short as they come across something odd.

“What is it?” Natasha asks as his brows furl and he marches towards a seemingly nondescript building.

“Army regulations forbid storing munitions within 500 yards of the barracks,” he rattles off as he stops in front of the rusted door. “This building is in the wrong place.”

“You memorized army regulations?” Natasha asks disbelievingly as he lines up with the door and adjust his shield.

“I didn’t exactly have a lot of friends,” he replies dryly before smashing his shield into the padlock on the door. It falls off and both he and Natasha cautiously make their way into the dusty building, the symbol on the far wall marking it to be an old SHIELD base. It feels strange to see the empty desks and dusty shelves sitting lost to time. He’s walking by one of these sets of shelves when his enhanced ears pick up the sound of wind hissing through the room.

His brow furls. “If you’re already working in a secret office,” he says as he yanks on the shelves and they slide open to reveal a hidden hallway. “Why do you need to hide the elevator?”

Natasha’s only response is a grim silence and they both stalk cautiously over to the ancient lift. Apparently, Natasha’s device has the ability to decipher keypad codes (and Steve is seriously beginning to wonder what the point of even having locks is anymore), and the elevator is not only powered, but completely functional, which is a relief. The doors open up into a spacious basement room with what seems to be a very dusty computer consol.

“This can’t be the data point,” Natasha scoffs as they look around. “This technology is ancient.” Her eyes sweep over the desk and a thoughtful look crosses over her face as she sees a piece of equipment that is definitely out of place.

It’s a USB port, Steve realises as Natasha pulls the drive from her pocket and plugs it in. Immediately the room comes alive around them as lights flicker on and systems whirl to life.

INITIATE SYSTEM? the computer types out on its screen and Natasha leans down to type on the blocky keyboard.

“Y-E-S,” she says as she spells out the command before looking back at Steve with a sly grin on her face. “Shall we play a game?” she quotes and Steve huffs out a breath. That had been a movie that both Clint and Natasha had insisted on showing him, and afterwards Clint had somehow convinced JARVIS to speak in Joshua’s voice for the rest of the day.

In front of them, the screen flickers to life with a grainy green image of some sort of face and Steve is confused for a second until he hears it speak, the voice disturbingly familiar.

“Rogers, Steven. Born 1918,” the computer Zola states before a camera turns to look at Natasha. “Romanoff, Natalia Alianovna. Born 1984.”

Steve’s stomach drops as he realises what is happening. He’d known, of course, that Zola had been recruited by SHIELD and had regrown Hydra from there, but he hadn’t known that he was apparently sitting in a computer in an abandoned basement somewhere.

Natasha doesn’t so much as react to Zola’s explanation of his presence as she stiffens, her face closing off, and Steve feels his heart squeeze at that. This was not how he wanted Natasha to find out about Hydra.

Zola outlines Hydra’s mission and Steve catches Natasha giving him an appraising glance out of the corner of her eye, and he realises that he’s probably not reacting the way she’s expecting, because he already knew about most of this stuff.

“Hydra created a world so chaotic that the world is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security,” Zola gloats, but Steve almost feels a surge of victory when the computer screens start showing the Helicarriers. Maybe now he will finally learn what Hydra’s plan is. That flare of hope is squashed almost immediately by Zola’s next words.

“Once the purification process is complete,” he says and Steve feels his stomach churn at the familiar rhetoric. “Hydra’s new world will arise. We won Natalia, your futile efforts mean nothing.”

Something flashes in Natasha’s eyes and she steps towards the computer threateningly. “What’s on this drive?” she demands, leaning forward.

Zola’s camera pauses and moves subtly from Natasha to Steve almost like… almost like he’s asking for permission. Steve feels his breath catch and his eyes widen slightly at the realisation before he gathers himself and gives a single miniscule nod at the camera.

Zola’s camera refocuses on Natasha and Steve can only hope that she either didn’t notice the interaction between the two of them or doesn’t care right now, because he doesn’t want to have to explain/defend himself right now.

“Project Insight requires… insight,” Zola explains slowly. “So, I wrote an algorithm.”

“What kind of algorithm?” Natasha snaps. “What does it do?”

If Zola had a face right now, Steve is sure he would be smiling. “Patience Frauline,” he says condescendingly before continuing. “This new century is… like a digital book, full of user histories, banknotes, voting patterns…” His face flickers greenly on the screen. “My algorithm can read those patterns and determine any threat to Hydra. Now or… in the future.”

Natasha’s eyes widen and her mouth doesn’t exactly drop open, but it relaxes slightly in shock. “That’s what the Helicarriers are for,” she breathes. “To eliminate Hydra’s enemies… a few million at a time.” Steve’s heart skips a beat as his mind flashes back to the hulking Helicarriers sitting under the Triskelion and he does his utmost best not to react badly and blow his cover. 

“You should be grateful,” Zola claims, the sounds of his computer brain whirling around them. “Hydra can bring peace to six billion people, by sacrificing three million.”

Natasha’s face twists before she darts forward and snatches up the USB drive. Turning, she brushes past Steve and storms towards the elevator doors. “Be grateful I don’t have anything to blow you up with,” she snaps over her shoulder as Steve goes quickly to join her.

The ride up in the elevator is uncomfortably silent as Natasha very nearly glowers at the door and Steve tries desperately to think of what to do next. “We need somewhere safe where we can plan,” he says as they walk out to the van.

Natasha lets out a slow breath and relaxes her shoulders slightly, although she still looks a little guarded. “You’ve got somewhere in mind?” she asks tiredly, her hands clenched around the USB in her pocket.

Steve swallows and shrugs one shoulder. “I have an idea.”

oOo

The ride to Sam’s place is tense and silent.

Steve spends most of it questioning his decision to go to Sam in the first place. It could be dangerous to bring Sam into this, and he’s not sure he could forgive himself if something were to happen to Sam… But they need somewhere to stay that’s definitely not bugged and ideally somewhere in D.C. Plus, he can’t call Tony on his bugged phone, but surely Sam has a phone that he can use…

He glances over at Natasha as he parks the van a few blocks away from Sam’s house and her face is a stony mask. She hasn’t said much since she’d looked up Sam’s address on her device (phone? Is it a phone? It seems too advanced to be a phone) and Steve can’t help worrying about what’s going on in her head.

They get out of the car silently and there’s a tension in the air that he can’t quite place. He hunches his shoulders against it and follows Natasha towards Sam’s house, privately hoping that if the SHIELD van has a tracker in it, that they’ve parked far enough away from Sam’s place that he won’t be targeted.

He has half a second of panic, when he knocks on Sam’s door, that maybe the man isn’t even home, but a moment later he opens the door and Steve relaxes. “Hey man,” he says tiredly, privately hoping that’d he’d judged Sam’s character well enough. “Sorry to do this to you, but we need somewhere safe to lay low.”

“We can’t trust anybody right now,” Natasha says roughly, her eyes flickering over Sam and glancing into the room behind him.

To his credit, Sam doesn’t even blink before he opens the door all the way and gestures for them to come in. “You guys need a first aid kit or anything?” he asks as Steve steps gratefully over the threshold.

“No, we’re good,” he reassures, glancing behind him to check on Natasha and blinking against a sudden wave of exhaustion that hits him like a brick. The world kind of blurs a little and he realises that he hasn’t slept since the night before he met Sam (was that only yesterday? No wait, two days ago, it’s morning now).

The floorboard squeaks beside him and his left arm twitches instinctively for his shield before he remembers that he’d left it in the van. He glances over to see Sam next to him with something like recognition in his eyes.

“Why don’t you guys get cleaned up in the bathroom over there and I’ll fix us some breakfast?” he says gesturing to a hallway leading off from the kitchen.

Food. Yes, right, that was something he needed. When was the last time he’d eaten? Not for a while… he narrows his eyes trying to remember if he’d eaten at all yesterday and Natasha takes his slow response as a chance to call first dibs on the washroom.

“You good man?” Sam asks as Steve follows him towards the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he says, giving his head a shake and sinking down onto one of the chairs that line the kitchen island. “Yeah, it’s just been a crazy few days.”

Sam seems to give him some sort of an assessing look before turning back to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of orange juice and a carton of eggs. “Yeah well.” He shrugs and shuts the door. “Glad I could help.”

Steve winces a little at that. “Sorry, I know we don’t really know each other—”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Sam reassures as he pulls out a pan from a cupboard and sets it on the stove. “Gotta fill my weirdness quota for the day.”

Steve tries to huff out a tired laugh at that and resists the urge to simply lay his head down on the counter and close his eyes. He hears the shower turn on and blinks slowly at Sam as he starts making… eggs… something. The thing, you make with eggs, all together, with other things…

Omelettes. His mind supplies and he realises he’s been staring unseeingly at the stove for the last several minutes.

“Hey.”

He jerks a little and glances up to find Sam is beside him, not close beside him, but next to him, without him having realised that he’d left the stove in the first place.  Sam has… a look on his face, one that he can’t quite read. Maybe he could if he was a little less… whatever this is, but he finds he’s too tired to try and figure out what Sam is feeling.

Sam shifts a little closer and tilts his head to make sure that Steve is looking at him. “Hey,” he says again. “You look like you could use a power-nap. How ‘bout you claim the couch until your friend gets back?”

“I’m okay,” Steve insists with a wave of his hand, but somehow, he’s off the chair and being guided towards the couch anyways.

“I’ll wake you up when the bathroom’s free,” Sam promises and Steve doesn’t have time to respond because suddenly the couch is really really comfortable and he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

He wakes a while later with a slight jerk. Sam is a few feet away, like he was about to come wake him, but he’s too far away to have been able to shake him awake, so he thinks that he might have jerked awake on his own.

He scans the room reflexively and feels a slight jolt of panic before he remembers again that he’d left his shield in the van. Natasha is sitting at the kitchen island eating something from a bowl, and he thinks that Sam must have let him sleep longer than he said he would, because her hair is almost dry.

“Do you want something to eat?” Sam asks and Steve darts his eyes back towards him before swallowing and sitting up on the couch.

“Sure,” he says, his voice sounding a bit rough to his ears.

The world still feels kind of bleary but once Sam leads him to the kitchen and puts an omelette in front of him, he can’t seem to stop eating. He hadn’t quite realised how hungry he’d been until he’d started eating. Sam puts another omelette on his plate and he’s not quite sure where it came from but that doesn’t matter because it tastes delicious and Natasha’s just poured him some orange juice.

Sam does the dishes after they’re done eating and absolutely refuses to let Steve help.

“Go take a shower,” he says as he begins filling the sink. “I’m sure Nat over here can handle drying duty.”

Natasha narrows her eyes from her place at the island, but Steve can see the flicker of amusement that plays over her face, so he’s not too worried about leaving the two of them alone together.

He’ll admit, the shower feels amazing, and he exits feeling much more human and much less likely to snap apart than he had this morning.

He comes out of the bathroom to find both Natasha and Sam sitting in the living room. They both look up to watch him as he comes in and his stomach lurches as he realises what’s bound to be coming next. He walks over slowly and sits down carefully in an armchair so that he’s facing both of them.

Natasha looks at him for a second before her eyes flicker to Sam and around the room. She must decide that Sam is safe to talk around because the next moment she shifts to face Steve, an intense look in her eyes. “So,” she says carefully, her hands clasped in her lap. “Today was… a bit of a shock.”

The tension in the room is back again and Sam looks between the two of them. “You guys in trouble?” He asks after a moment.

Natasha doesn’t look away from Steve as she answers the question. “Steve and I work for a government organisation called SHIELD,” she explains flatly. “Today we found out that it’s actually a front for Hydra.” She fixes Steve with a look. “Except… it seems to be more of a shock to me than it is to Steve.”

Steve swallows and shifts slightly in the armchair as Sam turns to look at him as well. “You’re right,” he says, his stomach clenching uncomfortably, and he clears his throat. “I…” He chews on the inside of his cheek and mentally curses Hydra. This was not how he wanted the conversation to go.

“Hydra?” Sam questions. “Like the group you fought in World War Two? I thought they were gone.”

Steve lets out a breath and nods at Sam. “Yes,” he says. “So did I… but shortly after the Battle of New York, Tony and I…” He glances up at Natasha for a second before looking back down at his hands. “We learned that Hydra wasn’t as dead as we thought.”

He quickly decides that mentioning time-traveling future selves would complicate things too much right now and that he should save that particular conversation for later. He rubs his thumb over his clasped fingers and presses his lips together. “We knew… we knew that SHIELD was compromised and…” He glances up at Natasha and catches her eye. “At first we didn’t know who to trust, so we didn’t tell anybody.”

Something flickers over her face, too quickly for him to read, but he knows that she’s probably hurt by what he just said, even if she understands it. He grimaces a little and looks away. “It’s complicated, but Hydra became convince that I was Hydra, and we decided to… play along so that we could infiltrate them and figure out how deep the infestation was.”

“Wait,” Sam speaks up. “How on earth did Hydra think you were Hydra?”

Steve winces. “It’s… complicated,” he says again. “I can’t explain everything right now, but we managed to convince Hydra that I was one of them…” His stomach twists and he swallows uncomfortably. “Our goal was mainly to figure out who else was Hydra and what they were planning.”

Natasha has her mask back on when she looks at him. “So, what did you find?” she asks evenly.

He takes in a breath and lets it out. “Pierce is Hydra,” he says and Natasha’s only reaction is the tightening of her clasped fingers. “The whole STRIKE team is Hydra.” He continues. “Sitwell, someone named Doctor List…” He trails off and shrugs. “Most of the Insight crew, dozens of other SHIELD agents…”

Natasha’s face pales slightly as he speaks and Sam remains silent between them, his eyes tracking the tension in the room.

Steve unclasps his fingers and rubs them on his pants. “After me and Tony were sure that you and Clint and Fury weren’t Hydra, we planned on telling you,” he looks up at Natasha imploringly. “The Helicarriers were finished last week, and we didn’t know what Hydra was planning yet, but we knew it had something to do with them.”

He bites the inside of his cheek and ducks his head slightly. “We were going to tell you. I swear we were, but Hydra’s bugs are everywhere, and we weren’t able to get everyone together before this all went down.”

Natasha lets out a quiet breath and seems to sink a little deeper into the couch. Steve swallows and looks away, trying to keep from nervously bouncing his leg.

“There’s something else,” he says finally, looking back at Natasha. “It’s about who killed Fury.”          

Chapter Text

Natasha tenses and Sam’s eyes dart back and forth between them.

Steve clenches his fingers and tries to steel himself for the upcoming conversation. “You told me the Winter Soldier killed Fury,” he says to Natasha before pressing his lips together and looking away. “I already knew that.”

“What do you mean?” Natasha says, and he almost winces at the rough sound of her voice.

A sick feeling swirls in his stomach and he feels his shoulders hunch slightly. “I…” He swallows tightly and stares at his hands. “A few months ago… Hydra—” His heart spasms in his chest and he swallows against the growing lump in his throat. He hasn’t actually had to say the words out loud since he’d first told Tony, and talking about it feels like being stabbed through the chest.

He squeezes his hands tighter and keeps his eyes fastened on the rug on the floor in front of him. “Hydra took me to meet the Winter Soldier,” he says quietly, his eyes darting up to look at Natasha before glancing away again.

Natasha’s face is almost blank but there’s… something that he can’t quite read going on behind her eyes.

He clenches his teeth and the skin around his knuckles goes white as he tries to drag the necessary words out into the open. “It’s Bucky.” He bursts out finally. “The Winter Soldier is James Buchanan Barnes. He didn’t die, he was captured by Hydra.”

Natasha’s eyes widen slightly in shock, and even Sam, who Steve is pretty sure doesn’t know who the Winter Soldier is, looks rather taken back.

“How is that even possible?” he asks after a moment. “That was like, 70 years ago.” He glances between the two of them. “I’m guessing this Winter Soldier isn’t some old man, right?”

Steve’s tongue curls in his mouth and he keeps his eyes resolutely fixed on the couch cushion beside Natasha as he carefully recounts Bucky’s brainwashing, freezing and training under Hydra.

“They’ve got him so that he only follows their orders now,” he says softly, feeling almost numb to the horror of his story. “Pierce sent me and him on a mission to kill Fury and… I thought he might listen to me if I ordered him not to, I thought—” He presses his lips together and looks down. He had really hoped, for a moment there, that Bucky would listen to him over Hydra, but now Fury is dead, and Hydra’s orders fulfilled.

Sam curses softly and Natasha seems to withdraw inside herself, following some sort of internal debate inside her head. Her eyes refocus after a moment and fix onto Steve. “So…” She presses her lips together before continuing quietly. “What do we do now?”

Steve lets out a breath and tries to relax his stiff muscles. “Now that we know what Hydra is planning, we need to stop it.” He squares his shoulders and looks up at Natasha. “The way Hydra’s been acting, Project Insight is soon, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Sam shifts forward in his seat, drumming his fingers on his legs for a second before standing up suddenly and crossing the living room, Natasha and Steve following him with their eyes as he goes over to his bookshelf and pulls something off of it.

“I think I have something that can help,” he says as he walks back and hands over a file to Steve. Natasha moves over to stand by him as he scans the picture of Sam and a blond man in fatigues on the front of the file.

“Is this Riley?” he asks quietly and Sam nods as Natasha takes over looking through the file. “I thought you said you were a pilot.” He says, eyeing the detailed blueprints for some sort of jetpack.

Sam grins and shakes his head. “I never said pilot.”

Steve stares at Sam for a second before darting his eyes down between him and the file a few times as he thinks over what he’s being offered. The comfortable scene at the VA rises up in his mind and he shakes his head. “I can’t ask you to do this,” he says. “You got out for a good reason.”

Natasha’s hair swishes as she turns to give him a thoughtful look, but he’s more focused on Sam who shakes his head determinedly.

“Dude,” he says, something warm twinkling in his eyes. “Captain America needs my help? There’s no better reason to get back in.” Steve isn’t so sure that’s a good reason, but Natasha seems to because she taps the file and asks after the Falcon equipment.

“The last one’s in Fort Meade,” Sam explains. “Behind three guarded gates and a 12-inch steel wall.”

 Natasha glances over at him and Steve opens his mouth to start planning, when his phone dings in his pocket. Everyone’s eyes dart to his pocket and dread pools like a pile of lead in his stomach as he pulls it out to check for messages.

Restricted Number

Today, 10:14 am

 The Helicarriers are ready to be launched.

 Return with Agent Romanoff to SHIELD headquarters and

  prepare for extraction.

Steve feels himself pale as he texts back for a few confirmations before looking back up at Sam and Natasha. “Hydra’s getting ready to launch the Helicarriers,” he says quietly. “They want me to bring in Natasha.”

Natasha and Sam glance at each other before looking back at him. “We could make a run for it,” Sam suggests. “Try to shut down the Helicarriers now.”

Steve pockets his phone and shakes his head as he stands up and makes his way to the kitchen island, a plan already beginning to form in his mind. “Hydra thinks I’m loyal to them,” he says as he fishes around for a pen and paper. “We want to keep it that way for as long as possible.”  

Natasha and Sam follow him into the kitchen and watch as he scribbles down a number on the paper and hands it over to Sam. “This is Tony’s number,” he says briskly. “I can’t call him on my phone, but you can. Call him and explain the situation. He’ll be able to get your wings for you.”

Sam’s eyes flicker between him and the paper. “Tony as in Tony Stark?” he asks, his eyes a little wide.

Steve nods before glancing over to Natasha. “Me and Natasha will go along with Hydra’s plan as long as we can,” he decides and Natasha nods slowly, her eyes distant as she thinks over what he’s suggesting. “If things get too dangerous than we’ll break cover and run.”

He glances back over at Sam. “Tell Tony to be discreet, there’s no point in alerting Hydra to his involvement too early.”

Sam starts to nod but is interrupted by Natasha as she leans forward and plucks the paper from his hand and jots down another number. “This is a number of a friend, Clint,” she says, and Steve feels a sudden flare of guilt that he hadn’t thought about how Clint would be affected by all this. “Call him and tell him that ‘Nat says to head for scorched earth and bury it’. Those words exactly.”

“Nat says to head for scorched earth and bury it,” Sam repeats dutifully as he scans the paper. He glances back up at Steve. “Any code words for you?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head up for a moment as he thinks before his mouth twitches into a brief smile. “Tell him: ‘Steve didn’t mention the time-travelers’,” he says finally. “He’ll know what that means.”

Both Sam and Natasha raise their eyebrows at that, but Steve just shrugs off their confusion. It’s not exactly a code word, more of a warning to Tony not to talk about time-travel right now, but they don’t need to know that. 

Natasha’s lips twitch slightly before she shakes her head and returns to the mission at hand. “We should get going,” she informs them as she sweeps the room systematically with her eyes and starts heading towards Sam’s front door. “Don’t want Hydra to get suspicious.”

Her eyes meet Steve’s for the barest of seconds as they leave, and he feels a sudden wave of gratitude towards her. Not everyone would be willing to work with someone who’d kept them so thoroughly in the dark for so long.

The drive in the van is silent, but somehow less tense than the drive back from Camp Lehigh. Natasha manages to look completely relaxed as they drive towards SHIELD and wait to be pulled over in a ‘surprise’ extraction by the STRIKE team.

Thanks to Pierce’s orders, Steve knows what to expect, but he still feels a swell of anxiety rise up in him as he catches sight of the iconic bulk of the STRIKE van pulling up behind them.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asks, aiming for confusion and playing the part of the bewildered teammate as he pulls off onto a side road, just in case SHIELD/Hydra is listening in.

“Change of plans,” he tells her tightly as he pulls over and parks the van on the relatively quiet street. “Let’s get going.”

Natasha’s eyes flicker between him and the STRIKE van that pulls up behind them, and although he knows that she’s just playing her part, he can’t help wincing internally at the uncertain look on her face. Pushing his own thoughts aside, he grabs his shield and gets out of the driver’s side before crossing over to the sidewalk as Rumlow marches up and yanks open the door to Natasha’s side.   

“SHIELD wants you to come in,” he says roughly as he takes a step back and waits for Natasha to step out of the van.

Personally, Steve doesn’t think that Hydra is trying very hard to be subtle, what with most of their agents covered in black helmets and a suspicious amount of accessible weapons about their persons. Natasha seems to come to the same conclusion as she slowly exits the van, and a brief glance at him is all the warning he gets before she suddenly darts forward and snags Rumlow’s handgun.   

All the agents around him fall into controlled panic as they draw their own weapons to try and stop her, and he feels a flare of alarm as he surges forward to cover her.

He knows that this is all part of the act because, for one, if Natasha wanted to, she would have already taken down the surrounding agents, and for two, she feigns surprise when he moves to disarm her, allowing him to take her down much easier than he would have in real life.   

“Steve what are you doing?” she demands as he pins her against the side of the van and disarms her. “They’re not SHIELD.”  

“Sorry Nat,” he says as he begins to manhandle her towards the back of the waiting van, careful not to actually injure her. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.” Natasha keeps up her look of shock and betrayal as Rumlow cuffs her, a bit more roughly than necessary, and Steve and another agent climb into the back of the van with her.

“Guess this day is full of surprises,” Rumlow leers smugly at her as he closes the doors behind them and gives the order to move out.

Inside the van, Steve sets his shield beside his knee and scans his surroundings. He’s beginning to wish they’d decided to run, even if that would have broken his cover, because right now he can’t guarantee Natasha’s safety.

Scenario after scenario runs through his head as he tries to guess what Hydra could be planning. If they plan to simply kill Natasha, then he’s going to have to break cover regardless. If not, then hopefully they can stage an escape for Natasha or something, thus allowing him to continue his cover and allowing Natasha to meet up with Tony. The agent beside him is an annoyance though, if they weren’t there than he’d feel more comfortable. As it is, Natasha’s safety is considerably less with them in the van.

He’s quietly running through extraction scenarios in his head, hoping all the while that he won’t have to use them, when the agent beside him goes from annoying to dangerous when they decide to reach up and jam their Taser rod into his ribs.

He lets out a gasp of pain and surprise as he doubles over in his seat. His teeth clench and he can practically feel the serum kicking in to keep him conscious as the electricity from the rod races through his body and causes his muscles to spasm painfully.

His vision darkens around the edges and he desperately flails his arm, trying to end the assault. It’s hard to control his movements because of the shock waves, but he manages to shove himself out of reach and he slumps painfully onto the floor, his breath coming in rapid gulps as his body continues to shake and jerk from aftershocks.

He tries to clear his head with a shake and the next thing he knows, Natasha is on top of the agent, the cuffs on her wrists hardly hindering her as she wrestles the rod away from them and pins them against the seat.

The agent lets out a pained grunt as Steve scrambles for his shield. He’s just managed to get his hands on the straps when the agent frees one of their hands from Natasha’s hold and begins pawing at their helmet.

“Wait!” She hisses before finally pulling off the dark helmet, revealing flyaway hair and a very familiar face. “Wait.”

Surprise flickers across Natasha’s face and she sits back slightly as Steve leans back tiredly against the side of the van, his mind racing at the new development. “Hill?” he gasps out in confusion as he scans the woman and tries to rearrange his plans around this newest wrench. “What are you doing here?”

Hill sits up as Natasha backs off to her seat. “I could ask you the same question,” she snaps guardedly, giving him a sharp look.

Steve winces and pulls himself up off the floor into a seat across from Natasha, his ribs giving a twinge as he moves. Hill watches him cautiously the whole time and he groans internally at the unnecessarily complicated situation.

Of course Hill is suspicious of him. She’d just watched him seemingly side with Hydra. (And, even if she didn’t know they were Hydra, she knew they were not good, and from her point of view it looks as if he doesn’t care about that). She probably didn’t want to believe that Steve was on their side, but she wasn’t about to take any chances, hence the Taser rod to the ribs.

“Look,” he says tiredly. “I can explain everything, we’re on the same side, but now is not the time or place.”

Hill eyes him wearily, clearly trying to decide whether she can trust him or not.

“Maria,” Natasha speaks up quietly, her eyes intense and calm. “It’s okay, I trust him.”

Hill holds her gaze for a second before giving a decisive nod and Steve lets out a quiet breath of relief. Next to him, Hill rolls her shoulders and pats down her mussed hair. “We need to get out of here,” she says decidedly, giving them each a look.

Steve’s brow furls as his eyes flicker to the front of the van. From what his sensitive ears can pick up, nobody seems to have noticed their skirmish, but he’s not sure how Hill intends to escape without drawing attention to themselves.

He shouldn’t have worried though, because Hill has that covered. Pulling out a small pen-like device, she twists it to reveal a bright laser on one end. “It’s called a Mouse Hole,” she explains quietly as she cuts through Natasha’s cuffs. “It’ll cut through almost anything.”

The Mouse Hole makes quick work of the floor of the van and Steve is careful to grab his shield before they drop out silently at a red light. Hill then leads them to another undercover van and drives them away in a tense, concentrated silence.

Steve leans his head back against the headrest of his seat and doesn’t even bother asking where they’re going. He’s too tired to care right now and his side still aches slightly from the Taser, although the serum will have that taken care of soon enough.

The skin of his shoulder twitches in an aborted flinch as Natasha taps him. “You should text Pierce,” she says quietly and Hill’s eyes flicker towards them in the rear-view mirror. “Give him some sort of explanation. Try to stay on his good side.”

Steve lets out a huff of air and reluctantly pulls out his phone. Natasha’s right of course. Unless he manages to somehow spin their escape in Hydra’s favour, Pierce will think he’s defected.

“I’ll tell him a loyal SHIELD agent infiltrated the STRIKE team and tried to free both of us,” he explains as he types. “I went along with it to see who they were taking orders from and figure out their plans.”

Natasha nods at that and Hill looks decidedly unhappy with the whole situation. “You sure you’re not being tracked with that thing?” she asks with a nod to his phone, her eyes never leaving the road as she turns towards what looks to be an abandoned warehouse.

“Tony already checked it,” he informs her dully as he closes his phone and puts it away. “It’s bugged to record my activity, but it won’t track my location.” To be honest, he’s not really sure why Hydra decided not to add in that little feature, but perhaps they’d thought the tracker in his suit would be enough.

Hill still doesn’t look happy, but she doesn’t say anything else as she pulls over to park next to the crumbling cement wall of the warehouse.

As they enter the dark building, a man in glasses rushes up to them, and, even though he’s pretty sure they’re safe, Steve can’t quite supress the urge to clasp his shield tighter to him and scan the man for weapons.

“Steve was shocked with a Taser rod,” Hill informs the man before he can even open his mouth. “Other than that, no injuries.”

The man turns to look at him and Steve opens his mouth to claim his healthiness, but he doesn’t get the chance because Hill continues to march forward. “They’ll want to see him,” she says briskly.

The man nods and follows as Hill leads them to a room deeper in the warehouse. Natasha shares a look with Steve as they march along, and he gives her a small shrug in return. This day is not turning out anything like he’d planned.

They stop in front of a hanging sheet of plastic and Hill pulls it aside, the movement revealing one Nicholas J. Fury laid out in a hospital bed.

Steve feels his mouth drop open. “You bastard,” He snaps.

Fury is decidedly not dead.

From his list of wounds, it seems to have been a close call, but he’d apparently used something called Tretrodotoxin B to help fake his death because as Hill claimed, any attempt on the Director’s life had to look successful.

“They can’t kill you if you’re already dead,” Fury drawls, before continuing a little more seriously. “And, I didn’t know who I could trust.”

Steve finds that he has to sit down carefully on a chair next to the bed as the full meaning of Fury’s survival really hits him. He’d spent this whole time thinking that Bucky had ignored his orders not to kill Fury. But what had he really ordered Bucky to do?

Injure target Nicholas Fury enough to be presumed dead.  

Bucky had done that. Bucky had done exactly that. This whole time, he’d followed Steve’s orders exactly. He hadn’t killed Fury at all.

Steve’s hands tighten from where they are clasped on his knees and his jaw clenches as a wave of anger rolls through him. Objectively, he understands why Fury had faked his death and stayed undercover, but he had thought that Bucky had followed Hydra this whole time.

Letting out a breath, he swallows and stands up, his shoulders straightening unconsciously as he falls into Mission Mode and shoves away his fraying emotions for another time. “Do you have a secure line?” he asks Hill stiffly. “I need to call Tony.”

Hill raises an eyebrow at that, and Fury tilts his head up from his pillow. “I’m not sure now is the time—” He starts but Steve cuts him off.

“With all due respect, Director,” he says, his voice hard. “Hydra is gearing up to murder millions of people today. You’ll forgive me if I want to call in some back up.”

Fury and Hill exchange a glance before Fury gives Steve an appraising look. “Looks like there’s some things we need to get caught up on,” he says dryly.

Steve’s lips press together, and he turns away slightly, accepting the phone that Hill hands him with a wordless nod. “Tony will be coming with another friend,” he informs them curtly as he steps out to make the call. “His name is Sam Wilson.”

Tony picks up on the first ring and Steve closes his eyes in unexpected relief at the sound of his voice.

“Hey Cap,” Tony greets almost cheerfully. “Decided to finally check in?”

“Hey Tony,” he breathes, leaning against the wall behind him and suddenly feeling drained. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to before now.”

“Well,” Tony says. “I’m just glad you’re alright, and you know, not murdered or anything.”

Steve nearly huffs out a laugh at that, because he doesn’t exactly feel alright, but he swallows it down. “Did Sam call you?” he asks instead.

“Sure did,” Tony replies. “I don’t even know why I was surprised to find out that you managed to adopt someone new.” Steve’s lips twitch and he feels his shoulders begin to relax. “We got his wings with minimal trouble,” Tony continues. “But Sam told me you were heading straight into Hydra’s jaws?” he asks it casually, but there’s a slight tinge of ‘what were you thinking?’ layered into his voice.  

“Change of plans,” Steve tells him. “I don’t know if Sam told you that Fury died… but it turns out he’s alive and he and Hill are hiding out in a warehouse. Hill sprung us lose from Hydra.”

“Wow. Oh–kay then,” Tony says a hint of amusement colouring his voice. “Send me the coordinates and we’ll be right there.”

“Let me just ask Hill,” Steve says, turning back to Fury’s hospital room. “Remember, be discreet Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah, Cap,” Tony replies easily. “See you soon.”           

Tony and Sam arrive with minimal fanfare and they quickly gather around a table to catch everyone up on the Hydra situation.

“So, you’ve been undercover in Hydra for nearly a year?” Fury demands, clearly put out. “And you didn’t think to mention this before?”

Steve tries to keep from glaring as he folds his arms. “I didn’t know who I could trust,” he snaps, properly fed up with everything. “Besides, the less people know, the safer, right?”

Fury scowls at him. “If you had told us then we could have helped you,” he says, unconsciously mirroring their previous argument. “As it is, it’s seems as though you haven’t been able to accomplish much.”

Steve’s hands tighten on his arms and he bristles at the insinuation that all his sacrifices in the past year have been for nothing. “Let me ask you this,” he responds coolly. “Can you tell me where Loki’s scepter is?”

Fury tilts his head at the odd question but answers anyway. “It was moved to—”

“To a secure location,” Steve finishes sharply. “But can you tell me where it is? Off the top of your head? Right now?” Fury opens his mouth and closes it, his eye never leaving Steve’s face. “You can’t,” Steve continues. “But I can. Because Hydra was the one who moved it.”

Tony shifts in his seat, and cuts in. “What would you have done if we’d told you about Hydra?” he asks, allowing Steve time to try and reign in his temper. “Can you honestly say you wouldn’t have tried to salvage something of SHIELD?”

Steve shakes his head before Fury can answer and tilts his chin up challengingly. “I’ve seen how deep it goes,” he says evenly. “After this, it all goes. SHIELD, Hydra, everything.”

Fury’s eye flickers around the room, his eye resting on Natasha as she sits back in silent agreement with Steve.

“He’s right,” Hill tells him quietly and Sam nods along with her.

With a sigh, Fury sits back and gestures towards him. “It looks like you’re giving the orders now, Captain,” he says dryly. “You have something in place for these Helicarriers?”

Steve flicks his eyes over to Tony who grins sharply and reaches under the table to pull out a thin briefcase. “Hydra won’t know what hit them,” he says gleefully as he snaps open the case to reveal three data chips.

Originally, Tony had hidden JARVIS in the Helicarriers’ systems, hoping that he would be enough to take them over if something went wrong. “He’s getting blocked though,” he explains with a slight scowl. “Something’s keeping him from taking over, so we’ll have to do it manually.”

“Zola,” Natasha says suddenly, and Steve jerks his head over to look at her. “He was blocking me from reading that USB drive back at the mall, he must be interfering with JARVIS.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at that, and it climbs even further at Steve’s brief ‘Zola was turned into a computer in the 70s and he’s hidden in the basement of an old SHIELD/army base’. “What ever the reason,” he says afterwards, waving his hand slightly. “We need to get all three of these chips into the mainframe for this to work.”

“What about Pierce?” Sam cuts in, his arms folded as he watches the proceedings. “We’re going to have to deal with him too.”

“I’ll deal with him,” Steve promises darkly, his voice dropping. “You, Tony and Natasha should focus on taking down the Helicarriers.”

Natasha looks over at Fury and Hill. “Once Steve has secured Pierce’s location, you should come in and access SHIELD’s files. Releasing them onto the internet will be the fastest way of ensuring that Hydra gets rooted out, without giving them a chance to bury anything.”

Tony’s eyes jump to her in surprise. “Oh… kay,” he says, before Fury can reply, “but if you do that, I’m just gonna make the executive decision to have JARVIS pull any sensitive stuff about the Avengers for us.”

Fury nods along, his eye distant as he thinks over the plan. “I think that should work,” he says after a moment with a glance at Hill.

“Okay wait,” Sam says, giving them all a look. “Hydra has your friend, right?” he says, catching Steve’s eye. “What do we do if he shows up?”

Steve’s stomach drops at the thought, but Sam is right, there’s almost no way they get through this without running into Bucky. His eyebrows tick downward as he thinks, and his head tilts slightly as he gives Fury a contemplative look. Then his eyes harden determinedly, and he raises his chin.

“I have an idea,” he says quietly.

Chapter Text

Steve pulls Natasha aside before they split ways to fulfill their respective missions. “Natasha,” he says uncertainly, placing his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders slightly as he scans her, his mind flashing back to his own anger towards Fury for hiding things from him. “I just wanted…” he presses his lips together and shrugs one shoulder awkwardly. “I… I’m sorry we didn’t tell you about this, before.”

Natasha stares at him in silence for a moment, her eyes flicking back and forth slightly as she scans him. Something softens in her eyes and she flashes him a brief half-smile. “I understand,” she says quietly. “I’d have probably done the same.”

Steve relaxes slightly but shakes his head. “Still…”

Natasha rolls her shoulders and shakes out her hair. “I know,” she says simply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But… we should probably get going.”

Steve’s shoulders drop and he nods his head, looking over Natasha’s shoulder to where Sam and Tony are standing by Hill’s van. “Yeah,” he says, his eyes hardening in determination. “Let’s do this.”

He heads off separately towards the Triskelion, the others taking a more roundabout route, to deal with the Helicarriers. As part of his cover he’d already texted Pierce a long-winded explanation about how the loyal SHIELD group he’d found was planning on making a move against the Helicarriers and how he was heading back to SHIELD under the guise of helping them with their plan.

Pierce hadn’t seemed too worried in his reply, claiming that it was already too late for anything to be done, but urging him to come and meet him anyways. He’d also reassured him that the Asset would guard one of the Helicarriers, just to be safe. Steve sets his face into a grim line as he drives into the garage of the Triskelion. Hopefully, if all goes well today, Pierce will be wrong on both accounts.

There’s an eager buzz in the air as he changes into his uniform. Normal SHIELD agents might not be able to place it, but Hydra is excited to finally be revealing one of its many heads.

For his part, Steve keeps his movements calm and controlled, settling his shield on his back in one smooth motion and slipping two separate earpieces into his ears. One comm links him to Tony and the others, and one he’s saving for later. His hearing is enhanced enough that he’s not really impeded by them, he just hopes that nobody will stop long enough to wonder why he’s wearing two.

Along with his double earpieces, he also straps a small handgun to his thigh. He hasn’t really carried a gun since the war—for whatever reason, people in the future seem to assume that Captain America doesn’t use a gun, and he hadn’t felt the need to correct that myth. However, today is not the day to be going into battle unprepared.

That done, he slips past a few wandering SHIELD agents and starts heading up to where he knows Pierce is meeting with the World Security Council to celebrate the launching of the Helicarriers. He nods at a few Hydra STRIKE agents on his way and they offer him their own covert smiles in return.

Pierce nods at him too as he slips into the room, the council members already there, holding champagne glasses and looking relaxed. “Captain,” he says with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve says neutrally before falling into parade rest behind Pierce. A few council members flicker their eyes towards him as if they’re confused as to why he’s here, but the Captain America suit quickly eases them of their worries.

“Getting into position Cap,” Tony says quietly into his right earpiece. Steve stays silent, because answering would be too risky, but he knows that Tony and the others will continue with the plan.

In front of him, Pierce is prattling on with a raised glass about how the ‘world should be grateful’ for their achievements, and Steve almost wonders if Tony somehow manages to time his interruption purposely, because he cuts into the sound system right as Pierce is about to drink to his success.

“Attention SHIELD agents,” Tony says over the speakers, his voice just slightly more showy than usual. “I’m sure you know who I am, of course you do.”

Steve fights to keep a straight face as Pierce gives him a brief glance, the barest look of confusion and annoyance flickering in his eyes.

“Today’s a big day,” Tony continues flippantly. “But not for the reasons you’d think. See, turns out SHIELD is not what we thought.” He pauses for a brief second, his voice dropping. “It’s been taken over by Hydra.”

Pierce gently sets down his glass and starts drifting around the room, his face calm and calculating. Around him the council members stare at each other in confusion and slow growing fear.

“Alexander Pierce is their leader,” Tony says, his voice echoing around the room. “And the Helicarrier launch will give him and Hydra the power to kill anyone they want.”

Looks of anger and horror cross the faces of the council members as they realise exactly what kind of grave they’ve dug themselves. Steve thinks back to a nuke flying over New York, and countless sleepless nights on Tony’s part, and doesn’t feel too sorry for them.

“So please excuse me and my team as we take down these ships,” Tony finishes with his usual casual flamboyance. “This should only take a moment.”

The broadcast shuts off, leaving Pierce facing a crowd of irate council members. “You smug bastard,” one of them snaps, his face twisting in fury.

Another one, Steve forgets which country he’s from, looks towards him and gestures impatiently at Pierce. “Arrest him,” he snips, looking at him like he’s lost his mind.

Steve’s eyes flicker between Pierce and the council and he makes a split-second decision. He needs to keep Pierce occupied, but he also needs to be able to focus on Tony and the team. Right now, fighting with Pierce will only invite more conflict and more Hydra agents.

He takes a step forward and pulls out his gun, pointing it directly at the councilman.

He can almost feel Pierce’s satisfaction at the looks of shock and surprise on the council member’s faces. Pierce, although he’d probably never admit it, has a healthy amount of appreciation for drama, and this is probably checking all his boxes.

“I guess I have the floor,” he says smugly, and Steve is careful to keep his face blank as he tries not to think too hard about how much he hates Pierce.

“They’re launching the ships,” Hill reports over the comms and his stomach clenches nervously in response.

Please let this work. He thinks desperately as Pierce begins pacing and lecturing the room around him. Please don’t let it be too late. His mind jumps to his future time-travelling self, and he wonders if the Other-Steve had managed to stop Hydra in time.

He hopes so.

“Okay, me and Nat are in the air,” Sam reports suddenly. “Heading to Alpha and Bravo carriers respectively.” The sound of gunfire echoes across the comms and Steve hears both Sam and Natasha shout in surprise at the attack.

“We could use some back up Iron Man,” Natasha grits out before letting lose a string of Russian curses. “I’m not really appreciating your flight pattern here, Falcon,” she says a second later, sounding slightly out of breath.  

“Yeah, well it’s either this or getting blown up,” Sam huffs as Tony responds to their call for back up.

“Heads up,” he drawls, and Steve hears the telltale sound of his repulsors charging. “Things are gonna get hot.”

“Eight minutes until these things start targeting,” Hill cuts in tightly. “Get them out of the air.”

Steve’s eyes focus back to the scene in front of him and he watches as Pierce saunters up to one of the council members. “Let me ask you this,” he says easily, looking all too pleased with himself. “If Pakistan marched into Mumbai tomorrow, and you knew they were going to drag your daughters into a stadium for execution…”

Steve fights to keep his mouth from twisting at the vague and stereotypical rhetoric coming out of Pierce’s mouth and concentrates on keeping a still and steady hand on his gun. Now is not the time to get annoyed at gratuitous generalizations.

“…If you could just stop it,” Pierce continues. “With a flick of a switch. Wouldn’t you?” He looks around the room. “Wouldn’t you all?”

The face of the councilman in front of him twists and his eyes dart back and forth angrily between Pierce and Steve. “Not if it was your switch,” he spits, throwing his glass away. It shatters with a sharp and brittle noise and Steve tries not to wince.

The room freezes for a second and Steve feels a moment of admiration for the man who seems willing to resist Hydra not only to Pierce’s face, but to his as well.

“Nat’s dropped off,” Sam says, cutting into his concentration. “Heading to the Alpha carrier.”

Tony responds with something about offering him cover and Steve realises abruptly that he can see one of the Helicarriers from the windows of the council room. His eyes follow its progress upwards, plumes of smoke exploding from its cannons as his team tries to hijack the ships. It’s too far away for him to really see what’s going on, but he thinks he sees the distinctive flash of Tony’s Iron Man suit swooping around the bow of the carrier.

“Bravo lock,” Natasha reports into his ear. “How long before extraction Falcon?”

“Give me a minute!” Sam yells before letting out a whoop to the background noise of explosions.

“Five minutes,” Hill reminds them, the sound of computer keys clicking as she follows the team from her station. “Evacuation of the Triskelion and the surrounding area in progress,” she says after a moment. “But the STRIKE team is making trouble.”   

“Alpha lock!” Sam cuts in triumphantly. “Nat and I can deal with them,” he tells Hill. “Nat, get ready for pick up.”

“Heading for Charlie carrier now,” Tony says, and this time Steve definitely sees a flash of red and gold as Tony flies by.

“You think you will win?” Steve’s focus gets abruptly snapped back to the room in front of him as the councilwoman (the British one he thinks), glares angrily at Pierce.

Pierce spreads his hands and gives her an amused look. “You think I haven’t already?” he asks with a tilt of his head. “Need I remind you that my Helicarriers will soon rule the sky? Soon everything will be under Hydra’s control, and the world will be better for it.”

The councilwoman raises her eyebrow, an unimpressed look on her face. “It seems you’re already meeting some resistance in that area,” she says dryly, nodding her head to the battling Helicarrier outside the window.

Pierce shrugs confidently and places his hands in his pants pockets. “Those who resist will be taken care of,” he says easily. “And people can be made to see reason.” He gestures at Steve. “Just take our friend here, Captain America.”

The council doesn’t seem to have an argument for that, and they stare at him in a sort of mute incomprehension. Steve knows that right now Pierce would probably love it if he stepped forward and pontificated about how horrible the world is, and why he joined Hydra, but he doesn’t much care right now because Tony speaks up into his comm.

“Okay, Terminator’s here in Charlie carrier,” he says quietly. “JARVIS should make sure you have a direct line… time to work your magic Cap.”

Steve’s stomach swoops as the comm in his left ear crackles to life.

The one in his right ear had been an open line with the rest of the team, but the one in his left had only one target. The Winter Soldier.

He really hopes this works.

Back in the warehouse, when they were trying to plan their assault, he’d known that something would have to be done about Bucky. It was almost guaranteed that Hydra would bring him in, and the thought of either Bucky or his teammates having to fight each other makes him grimace.

“If Hydra brings in Bucky,” he says. “I think I can stop him.” The others look at him a bit dubiously and inside he knows that he’s working almost blind here, but, if he’s right, then this really could work. “Bucky follows my orders over Hydra’s,” he tells them. “That’s why Fury survived, because I ordered him not to kill him. And he didn’t.”

“So, you’re saying you could order him to stand down?” Sam asks slowly.

“Yes,” Steve says, leaning forward. “He’ll listen to me, and we might even be able to get him away from Hydra after this.” His eyes flicker briefly over to Tony at that, suddenly not sure how the man would feel about working with Bucky, but Tony only looks contemplative, not upset, and Steve’s shoulders relax slightly in relief.

“What if he doesn’t though?” Fury asks, speaking up from across the table. “We’re going to need more than your word and a prayer for this Rogers.”

Steve’s lips press into a thin line, but he pushes away his knee-jerk defense of Bucky. Fury is right, there is too much on the line to go in without a back-up plan. “Hydra gave Bucky a set of trigger words that they use to control him,” he admits reluctantly. “There’s one that, if said, will knock him out.” At his words, his hands clench into fists and he raises his chin determinedly. “If I have to, I’ll use that word to take him out.”

Back in the present, Steve licks his lips and sends off one last prayer to whoever might be listening before he opens his mouth to finally, finally, break with Hydra.

“Asset,” he says authoritatively, and in front of him a mixture of confusion and surprise flickers across Pierce’s face. “Stand down. Do not engage Iron Man.” He’s so focused on the second earpiece that he almost doesn’t see the slow-motion dawning of realisation and growing fury twisting across Pierce’s face as he spins to face him.

“What are you doing—” he snaps, taking an aborted step forward, and Steve trains his gun on him without a second thought, his entire being focusing onto the comm in his ear.

Please Bucky. He begs internally. Please, please, please.

“Two minutes,” Hill says, her voice tight.

Steve’s stomach drops and bile rises in his throat as despair sweeps through him and he opens his mouth. He doesn’t want to have to trigger Bucky, the thought makes him sick, but he doesn’t have time, he can’t wait any longer—

Something crackles over the comms and he freezes, the hated trigger word dying on his lips.

Bucky’s voice is deep and deliberate, and the most welcome thing Steve has ever heard. “…Yes, sir,” he says and Steve hears Tony breathe out quietly into his comm. Not until this moment did he realise how tense he’d been, relief washing through him like a wave as he drops his shoulders and shutters his eyes closed for the briefest second.

It had worked.

Seconds later Tony reports Charlie lock, and Hill retargets the Helicarriers.

“Okay, get out of there,” she says, relief evident in her voice.

“Asset,” he says again, aiming a glare at Pierce when he tries to open his mouth. “Go with Iron Man and wait for further orders.”

“Yes sir,” is the immediate response and Steve breathes in deeply for probably the first time that day.

“STRIKE team neutralised,” Natasha reports suddenly. “Fury’s on his way Steve.”

“Copy that,” he replies over Sam and Tony’s discussion of punching Rumlow in the face and turns his full attention to Pierce.

Pierce would almost look calm, if it were not for the murderous glare in his eyes. Behind him, plumes of smoke billow into the sky as the Helicarriers explode, and flaming pieces break off and fall into the Potomac.

Steve gives him a very small, satisfied smile. “Sorry,” he says with a caustic tilt of his head.  “Did I step on your moment?”

Pierce’s eyes flash and his jaw flexes as he clenches his teeth. “I’m guessing, you weren’t ever Hydra then,” he grinds out coolly, his mouth twisting into a sneer.

“No,” Steve bites out, slowly circling to keep pace with Pierce. “I never was, but I certainly learned a lot about them, thanks to you.”

Pierce’s eyes narrow and his hands clench inside his pockets. His eyes glint and he lifts his head. “You’ll never defeat us entirely,” he says slowly, his eyes flashing haughtily. “One of these days Captain, we will win. Cut off one head—"   

Steve crosses the space between them in a single step, and takes an entire year of working with Hydra, and four blasted months as Bucky’s handler, and puts them into one single punch to Pierce’s face. His fist connects with a satisfying thud of flesh on flesh, and Pierce goes flying, landing dazedly in a rumpled heap on the floor, blood beginning to trickle down his chin from a split lip.

The room around him is dead silent and Steve breathes in carefully, trying to reel in the rest of his anger. “Sorry,” he says dryly. “Old habits die hard.” Pierce looks almost stunned as he dabs at his lip and Steve finds he doesn’t feel guilty in the slightest.

The sound of beating rotor blades brings a smile to his lips and he gestures with his gun for Pierce to stand. “Company’s coming,” he tells him smugly as he leads him towards the middle of the room.

Fury arrives with a dramatic swirl of his coat and Pierce seems to lose even more of his shattered confidence at the sight of him. He recovers partially by the time Fury enters the room, taking in the sight of the man’s sling and tight stance with knowing eyes. “Did you get my flowers?” he drawls.

Fury eyes Pierce’s bloody lip and doesn’t even deign him with a reply, choosing instead to go over to the computer and begin typing in commands.

Pierce stares at Fury in veiled apprehension, and his eyes widen as he realises what he’s doing. “You’re disabling the security codes,” he says hollowly. “And dumping all the secrets onto the internet.”

“Including Hydra’s,” Fury says, with a flat stare.

“And SHIELD’s,” Pierce says, his eyes following Fury’s movements. “Are you sure you really want to do this?” He steps forward slightly, and Steve’s gun twitches to follow him. “The Helicarriers, Hydra’s plan,” Pierce continues, giving Fury an almost condescending look. “It’s the next step, Nick. If you have the courage to take it.”

“No,” Fury says, looking unimpressed and almost pitying at Pierce’s argument, walking over to guide him towards a large computer screen. His eye flickers to Steve for a brief moment. “I have the courage not to.”

Pierce opens his mouth to reply but is interrupted by the computer as two spinning circles appear on screen. “Retinal scanner active,” it says as Fury positions them both in front of the swirling circles.

Pierce raises his eyebrow and gives Fury a look. “You really don’t think we’ve wiped your clearance from the system?” he asks disdainfully.

Fury turns slowly towards him and fixes him with a look. “Oh, I know you erased my password,” he says flippantly. “Probably deleted my retinal scan. But, if you want to stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary,” his voice drops dangerously and he reaches up to pull away his eyepatch, revealing the scarred remains of his other eye. “You need to keep both eyes open.”

Pierce looks almost offended at Fury’s slight of hand and he begrudgingly turns his eye to face the scanner.

“Alpha level confirmed,” the computer states. “Encryption code accepted.” Fury steps back satisfied and Steve raises his head, fixing Pierce with a hard stare.

It isn’t until Pierce whips out his phone that he realises he should have kept a closer eye on his hands.

Steve’s gun twitches up instinctively but Pierce hovers his thumb over his phone threateningly and shakes his head. “You will notice,” he says slowly. “That every one of the council members has a biometric pin on their lapel.” His mouth quirks upwards. “Of course, they’re meant to offer unrestricted access to our visitors, but… I took the liberties of adding in something else.”

Steve feels a chill run through him as his eyes catch on the innocent looking devices pinned to the chests of the council members.

Pierce gives Fury a cold smile. “You’re not the only paranoid one here,” he says, shifting towards the council members and giving Steve a significant look. “Unless you want a two-inch hole in their sternums Captain, I suggest you put that gun down.”

Steve narrows his eyes and his mind races as he reluctantly lowers his gun and drops it to the floor.

“Good,” Pierce says as he moves to grab the British councilwoman, his thumb still hovering over his phone screen. “Time to go councilwoman, we’re going to fly out of here.”

Steve’s heartbeat spikes as Pierce goes to drag the woman from the room, knowing that the longer she’s in Pierce’s custody and the further away they go, the less likely it will be that she survives this.

Helplessness floods through him as he watches Pierce start to make his way carefully to the glass door leading out to Fury’s helicopter and he knows from the hard line of Fury’s jaw that he’s feeling the exact same way.

The next moments pass in a blur of chaotic movement, the councilwoman turning suddenly on Pierce and driving her elbow back into his face with devastating force. Pierce stumbles away in surprise as she reaches forward and slaps the phone from his hand, twisting to the side and out of the way as she moves.

Next to him, Fury darts forward almost as soon as she starts moving and scrambles for the dropped gun, his arm coming up without any hesitation.

Two shots echo through the room and red blooms onto the white fabric of Pierce’s shirt. His mouth opens in soundless disbelief as he stares at his chest, his eyes darting around before he staggers backward and sinks to the floor.

The quiet breaths of the councilwoman are the only sounds as everyone stands stock still in shock and Fury drops his arm tiredly. His eye flickers to Steve and then to the rest of the council. “Go find the rest of your team Captain,” he orders quietly and Steve snaps to attention.

“Yes sir,” he replies, taking no time in heading out of the room and leaving Fury to talk things out with the council.

 His mission isn’t quite finished.

Tony radios him their location, and he finds the team congregated on the banks of the Potomac, watching as the last of the Helicarriers fall from the sky.

“Pierce is dead,” he tells Tony quietly before his eyes are drawn to Bucky’s dark figure, standing off to the side.

Bucky looks like he always does without a mission, blank and at attention, and Steve finds it harder to look at than before. He knows suddenly, that just because Hydra fell today, that that doesn’t mean that their touch won’t be felt for a long time.

Squaring his shoulders, he swallows once and steps up to Bucky. While he would do anything for Bucky to come to himself and no longer require a handler, he knows that that simply isn’t realistic right now, and that if he wants to make this the least traumatic as possible for Bucky, then he’s going to have to play this carefully.

“Well done Asset,” he says, and something loosens slightly in Bucky’s shoulders. For reasons known only to Hydra, they’d only gone with the mask today, choosing to leave Bucky’s goggles off and allowing Steve to see the tiny flicker of his eyes as he scans the crowd around him.

Steve glances around too before looking back at Bucky. “Threat designation change,” he says and sees Bucky focus in on him. “Avengers, Avenger allies and SHIELD agents, no longer a threat.” He raises his chin. “Effective immediately, all Hydra agents are no longer allies, report sightings to your superior.”

Bucky replies with his usual ‘confirmed’ and nods once before unfocusing and falling back into parade rest.

Around him, Steve suddenly becomes aware of the silence from his teammates and he realises that this is the first time that they’ve seen him interact with Bucky. This is the first time they’ve had to see exactly what Hydra has done to his friend, and what Steve has had to do since January.  

His stomach clenches and he pushes back a wave of nausea as he turns away from Bucky. Beside him, Tony’s face is free from his Iron Man helmet and looking decidedly pale. Natasha isn’t much better, her face hard and pinched, and Sam has a similar solemn expression. His eyes try to catch Steve’s, but he looks away, choosing instead to direct his gaze at Tony.

“Any chance we can get out of here?” he asks roughly.

Seeming almost grateful for the distraction, Tony snaps to attention and soon JARVIS is directing a quinjet to their location. It doesn’t take long to arrive, but the atmosphere is slightly subdued as the jet lands in front of them, and Steve finds himself blinking away waves of exhaustion as he waits for the ramp to lower.

“Asset, to me,” he orders quietly and Bucky follows him silently onto the ship. He points at a seat for Bucky and settles in next to him, his head tilting back tiredly against the headrest as he closes his eyes.

The rest of the team files in, and he hears Tony quietly discussing with Sam whether he wants to come back with them to New York. The engines of the quinjet rumble beneath him and he realises belatedly that he’d never taken off his shield, its edges now pressing uncomfortably into his back.

The jet lifts off and he keeps his eyes closed, deciding to ignore the problem for now.

oOo

At Avengers tower, they’re met by a confused and worried Bruce, who watches them file inside with a raised eyebrow. “I, uh, saw what you guys did, on the news,” he says after a moment.

Tony’s suit lets out a hiss of mechanised parts as he steps out of it onto the floor of the common room. “Sorry Bruce,” he says, before making his way over to the fridge and pulling out several water bottles. “I’m sure you’ll hear all about it when we have to debrief Fury, but things went downhill pretty fast in D.C. and we didn’t have time to call you in.”

Bruce simply shrugs a little and helps Tony pass out the water. “You guys come out okay?” he asks, giving them a once-over with his eyes.

Steve cracks the cap on his water and drains half of it before handing the rest over to Bucky with the simple order of ‘drink’. Bucky accepts the water immediately, reaching up carefully to unclasp his mask and holding it out for Steve, who accepts it dully before looking over at Bruce. “I think me and Buck will head over to med-bay,” he says flatly, running mostly on autopilot at this point.

Bruce’s eyes flicker between him and Bucky a few times, his brows furling, but he doesn’t say anything as Steve turns to take the now empty bottle from Bucky’s hand.

“We should probably all head over,” Sam says, breaking the growing silence, and Steve thinks it’s probably a sign of how dazed everyone is that they all agree and start heading towards the elevator.

Bucky, of course, gives no protest and follows him silently into the lift, situating himself behind his left shoulder in a move that’s so… familiar that Steve almost gasps. Clenching his fists around the mask in his hands and blinking determinedly, he bites the inside of his cheek, and tries to stay focused on his task.

Get Bucky settled first. He thinks as the elevator starts heading down to the med-bay. That’s your job right now.

Med-bay is large and spacious, with multiple beds partially segregated by hanging curtains. Most of the other Avengers drift around the white room and let Bruce poke at them, despite his claims to ‘not really be that kind of doctor’.

Blinking heavily, Steve leads Bucky over to a bed in the corner and gestures for him to sit down, placing the mask on the bedside cabinet. “Mission Report,” he says dully, knowing that the familiar routine might be helpful in this situation.

Bucky sits loosely on the bed and stares into the middle distance as he speaks, his eyes slightly glazed. “Agent Rumlow came to deploy the Asset in defense of the Helicarriers,” he reports dutifully. “The Asset waited on the Helicarrier until the arrival of the Avenger designated Iron Man. Contradictory orders to stand down received and followed. Helicarriers destroyed.”

The med-bay has fallen silent behind him, its occupants probably still not used to dealing with a brainwashed and programed assassin. Steve closes his eyes and breathes in for a second, trying to swallow back the cocktail of emotions swirling inside his stomach. Opening his eyes, he looks back at Bucky and continues with the post-mission debrief. “Damage Report.”

“No damage to report,” Bucky replies evenly, continuing to stare straight ahead, his hands placed loosely over his knees.

Steve flickers his eyes over Bucky as he scans him, double-checking his claim since he knows that Bucky has been trained to continue fighting regardless of his injuries. He doesn’t see anything obvious, but he thinks it might be a good idea to have JARVIS scan him anyways.

Right, JARVIS. He should probably introduce Bucky to him.

Tilting his head slightly, he narrows his eyes and stares ahead of himself, trying to figure out the best way to introduce JARVIS. He bites the inside of his cheek for a second before taking a breath and straightening his shoulders, silently hoping that this goes well.

“Prepare for changes in protocol,” he says and Bucky’s eyes flicker to meet his.

“Confirmed,” he says with a nod.

Steve nods back and falls into parade rest. “Avengers tower, now considered home base of operations,” he says, trying to explain in ways that Bucky can understand, that he won’t be going back to the Vault anymore. “Cryofreeze and wiping protocols, suspended indefinitely.”

He might be imagining it, but he thinks that Bucky’s eyes widen slightly as he nods at the new information, and he feels his hands tighten behind his back in response. He presses his lips together and scans the man in front of him, debating his next words. He knows that, for as long as Bucky can remember, he has always had some sort of mission, a purpose, and Steve isn’t sure how he will react if that is suddenly taken away.

Of course, he doesn’t want to restrict Bucky’s potential growth by giving him a mission to become. So, he has to be careful. “Current mission: Live in Avengers Tower,” he says finally.

Bucky’s eyebrow twitches just slightly in confusion at the strange order, but Steve hopes that it will be direct enough to satisfy Bucky’s programming—at least a little—but also vague enough that he can learn to actually live.

Because, he realises as he looks at him, Bucky hasn’t been living. He’s been existing.

At this point it isn’t even about helping Bucky to become himself again, it’s about helping him become a person again. And Steve isn’t exactly sure how to do that.

Chapter Text

Steve blinks away his realisation and focuses again on settling Bucky into the Avengers Tower. “Several people currently live in Avengers Tower,” he says, and Bucky accepts his words like he’s receiving intel for a mission.

He probably is. Steve thinks tiredly. Even if this mission is a little different than usual. “First occupant, Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, Avenger,” he continues, quickly listing off all the Avengers in the tower. “Civilians and SHIELD agents also sometimes enter the tower,” he warns. “Security protocols should prevent any intruders from entering, so unknown occupants should not be attacked unless they are known intruders.”

He doesn’t want Bucky accidentally attacking someone like Pepper because he doesn’t recognise them, and Steve hadn’t put them on the ‘okay’ list of visitors. Taking a breath, he glances up instinctively (even though Tony has already explained several times that JARVIS isn’t really in the ceiling) and moves on to introduce JARVIS. “This tower is equipped with an advanced computer assistant named JARVIS,” he explains, hoping that Bucky isn’t too disturbed. “JARVIS, can you introduce yourself?”

Bucky’s eyes widen and dart up to the ceiling too as JARVIS speaks up. “Hello Sergeant Barnes,” he says. “As Captain Rogers explained, I monitor this tower and its occupants, and assist and protect them when needed.” Bucky’s head stays tilted upwards, but his face remains blank, so Steve can’t really be sure how he feels about JARVIS at all.

“If you require assistance with something,” he says, pulling Bucky’s attention back to him. “Ask JARVIS and he will help you.” He phrases it as an order because he’s not sure Bucky will ask for anything otherwise. Even with the order he’s not sure, but at least there’s a chance now.

A sudden thought occurs to him and he thinks back to how it felt to live in his bugged apartment in D.C. before moving quickly to reassure Bucky that JARVIS will not play a part in spying on him or reporting his behavior back to Steve. “JARVIS is designed to monitor the occupants of the tower,” he says. “However, he cannot reveal anything personal about anyone unless given explicit permission or if someone is considered to be in danger.” He’s not really sure if Bucky understands (or believes him), but he hopes that maybe one day he will grow to trust JARVIS as he did.

He hears a noise behind him and turns to see Tony standing there, grey sweatpants pooling around his feet and several granola bars clutched in his hand. “You want one?” he asks, holding them out and taking a bite of his own.

Steve blinks tiredly at him for a second before reaching out to take one. “Bucky can’t eat solid food right now,” he explains quietly and the wrappers in Tony’s hand crinkle sharply as his grip tightens. Steve keeps his eyes down and focused on the food in front of him, suddenly realising how empty his stomach is. “He’ll need something like a smoothie for now,” he continues numbly. “Ideally we want four thousand to six thousand calories a day.”

Tony’s eyes flicker between Steve and Bucky before he gives a mute nod. Steve shoves the rest of the granola bar into his mouth and turns back to Bucky. “When did you last eat?” he asks, resisting the urge to rub his arm tiredly over his eyes.

“The Asset received his morning ration,” Bucky replies and Tony’s grip tightens even further on the remaining bars in his hand.

Steve nods, glad at least that Bucky had been fed. Breathing in deeply, he gives his head a little shake and remembers suddenly that he’d wanted JARVIS to scan Bucky. “JARVIS, can you scan Bucky for me?” he asks, before turning to face Bucky. “JARVIS will assess your condition,” he tells him.

“Certainly Captain,” JARVIS replies. “If you could just hold still for me Sergeant Barnes.” Bucky doesn’t reply, but he freezes so thoroughly that Steve almost wonders if he stops breathing. “Scan complete,” JARVIS says after a moment. “The Sergeant has no immediate medical needs; however, I believe his prosthetic arm could stand for a few adjustments.”

JARVIS somehow manages to make his last few words dry and brittle and Steve blinks a little at his unimpressed tone. “Thank you JARVIS,” he says, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and turning to look at Tony again.

… He had been intending to talk to him about Bucky’s arm and stay at the tower, but the room around him tilts slightly and he finds himself pitching forward. He blinks and Tony’s hand is suddenly bracing against his shoulder.

“Woah, Cap,” he says, helping to push him upright. “When’s the last time you slept?” he asks, a concerned look in his eyes.

Steve shakes his head blearily and blinks his eyes closed a few times. “Slept this morning,” he protests half-heartedly, trying to resist the urge to simply lean against the nearest wall and close his eyes for a few moments.

“Only for like, half an hour,” Sam says, appearing at Tony’s side. “You need to cash-in man,” he says, his eyes flickering over Steve. “You’ve even still got your earpieces in.”

Steve blinks and brings his hand up to feel his ears and pulls out one of his comms. He hadn’t even realised he’d kept them in. Tony and Sam watch him silently as he pulls out his second earpiece and tries to stand up straight.

“Go get changed,” Sam says gently, stepping a little to the side. “Take a nap. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

Steve nods a little numbly and goes to step past Sam, only to be brought up short as his sensitive ears pick up a sudden increase in Bucky’s heartbeat. Startled, he looks back to see him on the bed, his usual blank expression still on his face and a definite tension in his shoulders.

Oh geez, he realises abruptly. I can’t leave him here. He shifts back immediately and Bucky’s eyes flicker to his for a moment as his pulse begins to slowly even out again.

Running a hand through his hair, Steve glances at Tony and Sam, and then back at Bucky, trying to decide what to do. From Bucky’s perspective, he’s probably having one of the most confusing and nerve-wracking days of his life, and he probably feels completely lost in this new environment where he doesn’t know any of the rules and doesn’t know what is expected of him.

He's abruptly reminded of his first overwhelming, gut-wrenching days out of the ice, and how completely isolated he’d felt when he’d finally been left alone after being debriefed. Back then, there had been no one that he’d known, nobody he trusted who he could turn to, and now, for Bucky… He raises his head and makes his decision, he knows, in the future, that they will want to help Bucky become more independent, but for now, this is the best solution.

“Asset, to me,” he says, turning to head out of the med-bay. “I’ll sleep,” he promises Sam and Tony because they’re both busy looking concerned. “Can you take a look at Bucky’s arm sometime?” he asks Tony.

Tony nods and steps aside, letting him and Bucky pass. “Take care Cap,” he says before shoving another granola bar into his hand as he passes. “I’ll let you know when we have to debrief.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, offering him a small smile. “See you later.”

oOo

Steve makes it all the way back to his room before he realises his problem.

“This is my room,” he says, gesturing for Bucky to enter. “You can stay here for now.” Of course, his rooms aren’t really prepared to host a second person right now. They’re not small, but there’s only one closet, and only one bed.

Steve stops in the living room and stares towards the door of his room. He’d promised Tony and Sam that he would sleep, and Bucky needed somewhere to lay down too, so logically, one of them should take the couch and one of them should take the bed. And while Steve and Bucky had shared a bed more than once growing up, he’s not about to assume that that would be appropriate right now, so they will obviously need separate sleeping arrangements, it’s just… he’s not sure which of the two options would be best. For either of them.

Because… he hasn’t actually slept much on his bed. Like Sam had guessed, it’s too soft to be comfortable, and he finds himself jerking awake from nightmares more often than not, so most of the time he just passes out on his couch for a few hours a night.

But now, with Bucky, that might not be an option, because he knows the kinds of accommodations that Bucky is used to, and if the bed is too soft for Steve, it will definitely be too soft for him. Which would leave the couch for Bucky and the bed for Steve, regardless of how much he wants to introduce Bucky to the kinds of things he’s been missing out on for 70 years.

The couch for Bucky it is, he thinks tiredly before turning to give Bucky a tour of his rooms. He’ll just have to get used to his bed.

“You can go anywhere in these rooms freely,” he says as he shows Bucky the bathroom. “And you can use anything in them without permission. If you don’t know how to use something, ask me or JARVIS.”

“Confirmed,” Bucky says, as though receiving intel for a mission and Steve has to turn away so as to not accidentally look upset. He knows it will take time before Bucky is comfortable enough to start doing things on his own, it’s just… hard to see him like this.

“I’ll give you a tour of the rest of the tower later,” he says as they circle back to the living room. “For now, you can…” He trails off. He had been intending to tell Bucky to rest, only to be caught off guard by the realisation that Bucky has nothing to wear besides his combat uniform. That is going to need to be fixed. “Wait here,” he says after a second and Bucky falls into parade rest beside his couch.

Steve rubs at his eyes and lets out a slow breath as he heads into his room and tosses Tony’s granola bar onto the nightstand by his bed before searching through his closet for something that Bucky could wear.

He comes up with a loose black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, which, while they are not the same as what Hydra had him wear, wouldn’t be as foreign as say, a pair of jeans. Clothes in hand, he pauses long enough to grab a pair of socks and underwear for Bucky, before turning to leave.

Back in the living room, Bucky hasn’t moved from where he’d left him, but his eyes follow him as he enters the room. “These are for you,” Steve says, placing the pile of clothes on the couch beside Bucky. “I’m going to take a nap. You…” Steve pauses and presses his lips together for a second. He’s not sure if Bucky needs to (or wants to) sleep at the moment, but he’s not really sure what else he can do. Bucky isn’t used to entertaining himself and would probably simply stand and wait for Steve to wake up, and the idea of that makes him cringe.

“Sleep here if you need to,” he finally decides, indicating the couch. “If you require a shower, JARVIS can show you how to operate the one in the bathroom.” He pats the pile of clothes beside him. “Change into these clothes and leave your uniform and weapons in a pile over there,” he says, pointing to the corner by the TV. “We will eat once I wake up.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker around the room and he gives Steve a nod. “Confirmed,” he says and Steve fights to keep from sighing. Turning away from Bucky, and privately hoping that his friend isn’t too overwhelmed, Steve makes his way into his room to get changed.

He debates for far too long whether he should leave his door open or not. In the end, he compromises and leaves it half-way closed, before changing laboriously out of his uniform and collapsing on top of his bed.

It’s too soft, like he was expecting, but at first, he’s tired enough that he falls asleep anyways. Of course, that doesn’t last long, and he soon finds himself in the grips of a nightmare.

It’s nighttime, and he’s not sure where he is, except that all the mud makes him think of Italy. It comes up to his ankles and sucks and pulls at his feet when he tries to move forward.

In front of him, beyond the mud field, is a treelined ridge, and explosions and flashes of light echo from just beyond it. The sound of shouting and ammunitions firing is almost too much for his sensitive ears and the mud is frigid, oozing into his boots as he tries to step towards the ridge.

He can hear the Commandos now, their voices raised as they fight just beyond the trees. The radio on his belt crackles to life and he hears Dum Dum’s voice on the other end.

“Cap where are you?!” he shouts, his voice frantic and staticky, and Steve redoubles his efforts to drag himself through the mud. His foot sinks deeper and he almost falls forward into the muck. A massive explosion shakes the ground and he hears Frenchie scream. The mud is up to his knees by now and he tries to open his mouth, to reassure them, to call out, to do something, but his words stay choked in the back of his throat.

Ahead of him, the ridge is no closer and he can now see the telltale blue flashes of Hydra-tech as they disintegrate his men, leaving nothing behind, nothing to bury… The mud climbs higher up his legs, and soon he’s wading in it, trying to keep his arms up and free from the freezing sludge.

“Cap!” Monty yells desperately and the ground shakes again under the onslaught of explosions being exchanged. He hears Gabe shout out a warning and Morita’s cursing before he slips and sinks deeper in the mud, the freezing slime clinging to his clothes and dragging down his shield arm.

And suddenly Bucky is screaming.

He screams and screams, seeming to drown out everything else and Steve’s heart climbs into his throat at the sound, choking him and squeezing out the breath in his lungs. The mud is well beyond his waist by now and he gives in to trying to swim through it, but the ridge is no closer and Bucky’s screams pound into his head like a knife and Steve can’t. Get. To. Him.

He reaches forward, gritting his teeth as he drags his hand through the mud.

Please, he begs, his eyes fixed on the ridge in front of him. Please, please please—

The effort of dragging himself through the mud literally forces him awake and Steve gasps raggedly into his pillow as he snaps back into the waking world, the grey light drifting in from his window doing nothing to calm his pounding heart.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he flips over and sucks in a tight breath between his teeth, trying to ignore the choked feeling in the back of his throat. Swallowing hard, he fists his hands in his sheets and opens his eyes to stare blankly at his ceiling, waiting for his body to come down from its adrenalin rush.  

He’s not really sure if sleeping has made him feel more rested or not, but as his breathing and pulse slowly fall back into their normal rhythm, his stomach decides to announce itself to the room at large. Steve squeezes his eyes shut in resignation before taking a fortifying breath and dragging himself up from his bed.

In the living room, Bucky is standing at attention as usual, looking almost like he hasn’t moved since Steve left, but he’s changed into the new clothes and his eyes follow Steve as he enters the room, seeming to scan him before focusing on a point slightly to the left of his head.

Steve nods at him silently as he runs a hand through his bedhead and makes his way through the living room to the kitchen. “I’m going to make supper,” he announces numbly. “You can come if you want.”

He’s a little cautious about using the word ‘want’, because he knows that it’s a bit of a foreign concept to Bucky. (He can still remember the day that Rumlow explained to him that “the Asset doesn’t have wants, Captain”). Unlike Hydra, he doesn’t believe that Bucky never wants anything, he just thinks that he’s been thoroughly trained out of expressing those wants. Helping Bucky learn to want things is probably an important step in his rehabilitation.

I’ll have to be careful not to pressure him to want what I want. He thinks uneasily as he gets to his kitchen and starts opening the first of many cans of soup. It will be all too easy to accidentally train him to want the things he used to.

With that in mind, Steve isn’t very surprised when Bucky chooses to stay in the living room while he brings several cans of soup to a boil on the stove, the task helping to calm his rattled nerves. It isn’t until he starts preparing a smoothie that Bucky makes an appearance.

JARVIS is helpful enough to provide a recipe for a smoothie that should work for Bucky, and Steve is just finished blending the first several ingredients when he becomes aware of a presence behind him.

Turning around, he’s confronted with a looming Bucky in the kitchen doorway, his stance tense and his eyes wide as they dart around the room. Steve feels his heart drop and he freezes slightly, his eyes scanning Bucky and his surroundings as he tries to figure out what could have spooked him.

His eyes land on the blender in front of him and he suddenly feels like an idiot. “Sorry,” he says, looking back at Bucky. “I should have warned you.” He gestures at the blender. “This is a blender, it cuts up food really fine so that you can drink it. But it makes a pretty loud noise.”

Bucky’s stares at the blender for a second before his eyes dart around the kitchen again, some of the tension leaking out of his stance when no other threat makes itself apparent. Steve breathes out quietly and shifts back towards the blender. “I’m making a frozen fruit smoothie,” he explains carefully to a silent Bucky. “I’ve got a bag of mixed fruit, mostly berries, and I blend them with ice and milk and sugar in here.” He taps the blender. “You kind of have to do it in stages or else it’s too thick.”   

He goes to the fridge and takes out the milk jug, fully aware of Bucky’s eyes following him from the doorway. “I’ll just add some milk and some more fruit,” Steve says evenly, reaching for the bag of frozen fruit on the counter. “Then I’ll turn it on.”

Bucky tenses again at the sound, but he doesn’t try to attack anything, so that’s probably a plus. Once the smoothie is finished, Steve refills the ice trays and returns the rest of the frozen fruit to the freezer, trying to ignore how the brief blast of cold air it emits sets him to wiping his hands compulsively on his pants, as if that will help warm them.

Setting his jaw stubbornly, he moves on to check on the soup, Bucky continuing to stand in the doorway like some sort of looming gargoyle. “I just got this soup from a can,” he says as he flicks the burner off, feeling the need to narrate his actions and fill the empty air between them. “I didn’t have time to make it fresh. But it should still taste okay.”

Like Sam’s kitchen, his is designed with an island/table where he usually eats his meals and once everything is ready, he goes to set it with bowls, cups and cutlery. “We’ll eat here,” he tells Bucky as he turns to grab the pot of soup and the blender jar. “You can sit there.” He gestures towards the chair across from him with one hand.

Bucky moves slowly, almost cautiously, to sit in his designated chair and Steve copies him as he sets down the food. He’d made a rather large pot of soup, considering how he hadn’t exactly eaten enough today to satisfy his own metabolic needs and he knows from experience that he’d actually need about 8 servings of this particular meal to get enough calories per meal to get enough calories per day.

Given how Bucky has only had one other meal today, he’ll probably need that much too, although if he eats a normal three meals a day, he’d only need about 5-6 servings since his metabolism is slightly slower than Steve’s.

Steve represses a sigh as he ladles out the soup and pours out the smoothie. Sometimes it’s really tedious having an advanced metabolism, and more often than not, he finds himself eating less than he should. That’s probably going to have to stop, he realises tiredly as he sits back and gives a nod for Bucky to start eating. I’m going to have to pay more attention, if only to make sure Bucky eats enough.

JARVIS, who had often sounded quite exasperated at Steve’s eating habits, would probably find this rather amusing.

It’s not that Steve isn’t eating right on purpose, it’s just that… it feels wrong somehow, to eat so much all the time. If Bucky has the same compunctions, he doesn’t show it, eating whatever Steve puts in front of him, completely silent except for the sound of his spoon against his bowl.

Once the soup is finished, Steve starts clearing away the dishes and filling the sink with hot water. Bucky seems to linger uncertainly by his chair and Steve turns to him. “Why don’t you dry the dishes while I wash?” he offers, pointing at the dishtowel hanging from the oven door. “I’ll show you where things go.”

Bucky eyes him warily before moving slowly closer to grab the dishtowel, stopping to stand by the drain rack on Steve’s right. “You just have to wipe off all the water and then put the dish away,” he says as he rinses out a bowl and sets it to dry on the drain rack.

Bucky stays silent and takes to his task with a determined singlemindedness, and Steve feels slightly guilty asking Bucky to help when he’s not sure that he’d be able to refuse if he wanted to. Then again, the other option was Bucky staring blankly at the wall, so he’s not sure what would be better.

The dishes don’t take long and Steve soon finds himself back in the living room, at loss for what to do between now and bedtime.

“JARVIS, is there extra bedding we can use somewhere?” he asks, realising that he’s going to need to make up Bucky’s bed at some point.

“Indeed Captain,” JARVIS replies. “I will arrange to have it delivered to your door shortly.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve says before turning to Bucky. “Did you take a shower?” he asks, because he can’t think of anything else to do.

Bucky seems to tense slightly as he shakes his head. “Negative,” he replies.

Steve nods. “That’s okay,” he says to Bucky’s tense shoulders. “Do you know how?”

Bucky seems to hesitate, and Steve doesn’t blame him. Hydra’s showers had consisted of a small tiled room with a cold water tap and a bar of soap. Generally, the Asset had been given 10 minutes to clean and dry himself from any particular mission before being taken and prepped for cryofreeze.

The process didn’t exactly translate to Steve’s decked out bathroom.

“Unknown,” Bucky decides finally, standing at attention and focusing his gaze somewhere to the left of Steve’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Steve says slowly. “I’ll show you how.”

Bucky remains tense as Steve leads him into the bathroom and explains how to use the shower and his various bath products. “Most people take showers every two to three days,” he says as he shuts off the water. “You can, of course, take them whenever you want, but I’d recommend having one at least every three days.”

Bucky takes this in with the same intense focus that he seems to take in everything else that he says and Steve fights to keep from feeling awkward.

“Okay,” he says after a second. “I’ll take the first shower, and then you can have it, and we’ll make up your bed once the bedding arrives.” Bucky nods once at that before turning to leave the bathroom and Steve privately wonders if he’s just going to stare into space again. Letting out a quiet sigh once the door is closed, he rubs at his temples tiredly and gets ready for his shower. It’s going to be a long night.

Steve doesn’t take long showers, simply out of habit (although he’s not above indulging in a steamy soak every once and a while), and Bucky’s shower lasts exactly 10 minutes so they’re both out and clean in under half an hour.

He’s waiting in the living room, Bucky’s bedding piled on the floor beside him, when Bucky comes out, his hair still wet and dripping and looking rather tangled. He looks at him and tries to remember if Hydra had provided the Asset with a brush before. Surely they must have right? Or else his hair would have gotten matted by now.

“Do you need a brush?” he asks a little uncertainly, Bucky just stares at him.

Steve presses his lips together and edges past Bucky into the bathroom. The room and mirrors are almost completely lacking in steam and he wonders quietly if Bucky had used the hot water tap at all.

Bucky’s hair is longer than his, so ideally, he’d need a brush with longer bristles, but all Steve has is a short one, so that will have to do. He grabs the brush from the counter and heads back out to where Bucky is waiting. His stance is tense, but he is at least following Steve’s movements with his eyes instead of zoning out as if he was shut down.

Steve holds out the brush slowly, his eyes on Bucky. “You can use this,” he says simply. “Do you know how?”

Bucky nods once before he reaches out for the brush with his right hand, his fingers just barely brushing Steve’s palm as he takes it. It’s a little awkward, standing there watching his friend brush his hair, so Steve excuses himself to go change into his pajamas.

In all honesty, he usually doesn’t make it into his pajamas, but maybe that will change now too. In any case, by the time he gets back, Bucky’s hair is brushed and he stands a little uncertainly with the brush held loosely in his hand.

“You can put that back in the bathroom,” Steve says, and he has to swallow back a sudden wave of anger at Hydra when Bucky turns smartly to comply. What do you have to do to a person, he wonders bitterly, before they start acting like this?

Bucky returns and Steve breathes in deeply, trying to centre himself. Being angry will not help Bucky right now, it will only make him nervous. Letting his breath out, he walks over to the couch and the pile of bedding beside it.

“You will sleep here for now,” he says, and Bucky drifts a little closer. “I’ll show you how to make up the bed,” he continues, reaching for the sheet in front of him. “In the mornings you can fold it up and put it by the wall until nighttime.”

Bucky nods and watches silently as Steve sets up the bed, explaining what each piece of bedding is for and what to do with it. Once the bed is made up, he steps back and rolls his shoulders. “I know you are trained to go without sleep.” He says, looking Bucky in the eyes. “But now I want you to try to get at least 3 hours of sleep a night.”

Bucky’s head moves as though he’s almost about to tilt his head in confusion before he nods once. “Confirmed,” he says as usual.

Steve breathes in again. “You won’t be punished if you sleep more or less than that number,” he says carefully. “But three to five hours is a good number to aim for.” Bucky nods again slowly and Steve steps back from the couch to give him space. “I’m going to bed now,” he says with a half-shrug in the direction of his room. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Bucky remains silent as Steve leaves and he tries not to feel too much like he’s retreating as he carefully closes his door halfway. In front of him, sits his bed, its sheets still twisted and rumpled from his last nightmare and Steve runs a hand through his hair with a sigh.

It’s going to be a long night.  

Chapter Text

As expected, Steve only manages a few hours of fitful sleep on his bed before he gives up sleeping altogether. Of course, it’s far too early to get up, and while he suspects that Bucky isn’t sleeping much either, he doesn’t want to encourage midnight insomnia, so he stays in his room till morning.

JARVIS is helpful enough to provide suggested readings for him, and by morning Steve has a pretty good grasp on the do’s and don’ts of reintroducing solids into someone’s diet. Of course, they’re still going to have to see some sort of doctor about that, but he can at least confidently feed Bucky breakfast.

JARVIS also snidely projects a recommended meal-plan onto his wall for himself as well, and Steve takes the very subtle hint to try and eat his fill of calories today. For him that would mean about 3000 calories per meal. Luckily, he’s found that 1000 and 2000 calorie smoothies are a thing that exists, and he can make one of those for him and Bucky to eat.

Bucky is awake and standing at attention when he exits, his bedding already folded up and stored by the wall. Steve simply nods at him and tries to run a hand through his messy hair. “I’m going to make another smoothie,” he says as he walks past. “So that noise will happen again.”

To his surprise, Bucky follows him quietly to the kitchen and watches him as he starts pulling out the blender from the cupboard. He presses his lips firmly together against the cold as he pulls out the frozen fruit and ice trays from the freezer, and makes a mental note to ask JARVIS to order more kinds of frozen fruit.

Along with the smoothie, he also makes himself several pieces of toast in an effort to fulfill his calorie count (although he does feel a little guilty eating them when Bucky can’t) and also makes sure that they both have water to drink.

Bucky helps dry the dishes without prompting this time and Steve isn’t sure if that is a good sign or not. It could mean that Bucky is showing initiative and making his own choices, or it could just mean that he now thinks that drying the dishes is one of his new tasks.

Steve bites his lip as he washes out the blender blades and doesn’t say anything.

After breakfast, JARVIS informs him that the rest of the Avengers are preparing for a debriefing and Steve is left with the dilemma of what to do with Bucky. He’s not really sure if Bucky should go to the meeting or not, but he also doesn’t have anything else for him to do. The thought of leaving Bucky standing, staring at nothing, like some sort of life-size doll makes him cringe.

In the end, he has JARVIS ask Tony, and he tells him to just bring Bucky along, so, half an hour later, Steve finds himself sitting stiffly at a table in one of the meeting rooms of Avengers Tower, Bucky sitting numbly to his left, his eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance.

The other Avengers trickle in as Tony works on setting up a video feed with Fury and Steve tries not to blink in surprise as Clint breezes into the room, the bags under his eyes doing nothing to dim his cheery attitude.

“Hey Cap,” he says as he takes a seat across from him. “Heard you guys had something big go down.”

Steve nods. “Natasha fill you in?” he asks as Sam and Bruce enter the room.

Clint gives a one shouldered shrug. “She gave me the basics when she called to give the all clear.” His eyes flicker over to Bucky. “Cool arm, dude.”

Bucky’s eyes snap to Clint’s and he stares at him silently, completely immobile. Clint doesn’t seem to mind though, simply flashing Bucky a grin before turning to heckle Natasha as she slips into the room.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve watches Bucky scan the room and its occupants before settling back into his thousand-yard stare. At the front of the room, Tony sits down as the screen flickers to life and reveals Fury on the other end. His eye sweeps over them, pausing only briefly on Bucky before he gets down to business.  

The first part of the meeting is Fury’s report of what’s happening in Washington now that Hydra has been revealed, but he soon turns it over to Steve and Tony to explain their infiltration of Hydra.

“Okay,” Tony says, clapping his hands and tapping on his tablet to project a world map and a list of names. “So, Steve and I have amassed a large collection of known Hydra operatives and bases.” He uses his fingers to zoom in on the tablet and the projected map zooms in along with him to show a fortress in a country called Sokovia.

“This is probably one of the most important bases,” he continues, gesturing at the map. “It’s where Loki’s scepter is being kept.”  

“Okay wait,” Clint cuts in, waving his hands in front of him. “This is great, but I can’t be the only one who’s a little confused about how we even know about Hydra.” He gives them all a look. “Can we just rewind for a second here?”

Tony and Steve share a glance before Steve lets out a tiny sigh and nods at Tony. “You’re not going to like it,” he warns them. “It’s not exactly… easy to explain.”

Tony huffs out a little laugh as he pulls up some different files on his tablet and projects them for the rest of the team to see. “It starts way back when Loki invaded,” he explains, showing a still-capture of a cuffed Loki.

Steve nods. “After Loki was captured, I headed out to start search and rescue, but instead…” Tony pulls up a silent video of his fight with Other-Steve. “I ran into him.”

The room is silent for a second as the Avengers stare at the strange video.

Bruce takes off his glasses and rubs at the bridge of his nose for a second before replacing them and looking towards Steve and Tony. “So… what exactly are we looking at?” he asks softly.

Tony flashes him a grin. “Well. At first we thought it was our local psycho Loki but…” He taps his tablet again to show a fully secured Loki. “Turns out he was still accounted for, and Thor said that his illusions disappear on contact, so whoever stole the scepter wasn’t him.”

“But how did he get the scepter?” Natasha speaks up, her eyes narrowed as she watches the screen.

Tony snaps his fingers and points at her. “That, is the million-dollar question isn’t it?” he says cheerfully before turning back to the projection. “Thankfully JARVIS has footage of that too.”

“I thought you said the footage was destroyed,” Fury says, his eye narrowing on screen.

Tony gives him a flat smile. “Yeah, I did,” he says quietly. “We thought it best given the circumstances.”

Fury doesn’t exactly look happy at that, but he stays quiet as Tony pulls up the footage of Other-Steve’s elevator ride. “I’ll remind you that our Steve is currently making his way downstairs,” he says as the video starts. “This is his doppelganger.”

The room watches silently as Other-Steve leans down and whispers the fateful ‘Hail Hydra’ into Sitwell’s ear.

“So, he knew they were Hydra?” Bruce asks bewildered, once the video is over. “And he took the scepter? How did it get to that Sokovian base then?”

Steve shifts in his chair and clears his throat. “We have other footage that shows him bringing it back while I am still unconscious from the fight. Rumlow and Sitwell took it after that.”

Tony nods and pulls up an image of his own doppelganger. “That plus this guy trying to steal the Tesseract makes it pretty clear what they were after.” 

The team watches Other-Tony’s attempted heist and Loki’s subsequent escape in a kind of baffled silence.

“So… do you guys have a bunch of evil twins hidden away somewhere that we should know about?” Clint asks slowly, his expression thoroughly confused.

“We were thinking… time travel, actually,” Steve says, trying not to cringe at how ridiculous it sounds to say out loud.

Clint sort of stares at him for a second before looking over at Tony. “You’re serious,” he says faintly. “You’re actually seriously telling me you learned about Hydra through time travel.”

Tony’s fingers fly as he pulls up JARVIS’s scans of the two time-travelers. “JARVIS says that they were about ten years older than us,” he explains quickly. “That, plus the fact that they knew about Hydra and had different suits…” He pulls up Other-Tony’s Iron Man suit and Other-Steve’s salute while returning the scepter. “Lead us to our conclusion.”

The Avengers stare at him for a moment and Sam shifts, letting out a low whistle. “You guys get up to even crazier stuff than I thought,” he says, his voice tinged with admiration.

Natasha flickers her gaze away from the projected screens up to Fury. “What do you think of this?” she asks quietly.

Fury looks almost pensive as he stares over the screens in front of him. “Back during the invasion…” He says slowly. “There were reports of a strangely subdued Hulk in a different area of the city than Dr. Banner was…” His eye flicks up to Bruce’s before focusing back on Tony’s display. “At the time, we thought the reports were exaggerated, however, if this is true then…”

“There was another Hulk in New York?” Bruce asks in shock. “A calm one?”

Tony laughs and begins clearing away the screen with a flick of his hand. “Always knew you had it in you Bruce,” he says mildly before pulling up a zoomed in image of the tiny third time-traveler. “There was also this guy with them,” he says waving his hand. “But we have no idea who it is.”

Natasha and Fury raise an eyebrow at that before focusing back on Tony as he returns to the matter at hand. “Either way,” he says, pulling up the Sokovia base again. “It doesn’t really matter how we found out about Hydra, what matters is that they’re here.” His eyes flicker ever so briefly to Steve’s. “And we already know that blowing them out of the sky isn’t going to stop them.”

“We’re going to need to hunt down the rest of the heads,” Steve agrees. “Tony and I have recorded as much as we know from my time under cover.”

As he speaks, Tony helpfully starts pulling up the data they’ve collected. They had been meticulous in the last year, to record everything they’d done and everything they’d ever learned about Hydra so that when things were over, they could explain themselves.

“I think our top priority should be retrieving Loki’s scepter,” Steve continues. “Hydra’s already had it for too long. We need to get it back.”

“And who,” Fury cuts in dryly. “Will be keeping the scepter, Captain, once we get it back?”  

 Steve sets his jaw and raises his head. “We will keep it until Thor gets back,” he says decisively, his voice hard. “And we will return it once he does, as we should have when this whole thing started.”

Fury levels him with a hard stare before reluctantly nodding once. “With SHIELD down, you’re going to have to do some finagling with the government to be able to hunt down Hydra,” he says. “I’m sure some of them won’t be too happy about your mission.”

“We’ll deal with that once we get there,” Steve says before letting slip a small smile. “Although, I’m sure once Pepper and Hill put their heads together, we won’t have much of a problem.”

Tony smiles widely at that and nods his head before turning back to the projection screen. “This is what we know about Hydra so far,” he says, a bit more soberly. “We don’t think that’s all of it, but it’s a good place to start.”

“We should probably raid the base in Washington,” Steve cuts in. “If that hasn’t already been done.”

Natasha looks up and shifts in her seat. “There’s also Zola,” she says, her eyes hard. “We should probably take him down first.”

Tony nods and highlights the Vault and Zola’s base on screen. “We’ll probably find more bases as we go…” he says. “This is not going to be a short mission.”

Steve stomach drops along with the mood in the room and his eyes flicker around the table as his teammates take in the sheer volume of their task, before stopping to rest on Bucky. Bucky is tense and completely focused on an arbitrary spot on the wall in front of him and Steve abruptly realises that he has a major problem.

His eyes dart to Tony and the map of Hydra as panic wells up in him. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times. “I can’t… I can’t go with you,” he says dazedly, and instantly all eyes in the room snap to him.

“…come again?” Clint says after a moment and Steve swallows uneasily.

“I… I don’t think, I don’t think I can go with you guys on this one,” he says again, the tension in his body growing more with each word. “At least… not for a while.”  

Silence falls over the table as the Avengers stare at him with varying degrees of confusion.

All except Tony, Steve realises as he glances up at him, the man giving him a knowing look. “I’m sure Cap would love to be on the front lines of this,” he says, gesturing at the projected map. “But he’s got a different mission, don’t you?”

Steve nods gratefully and looks over at Bucky. “I know this isn’t the best time for me to sit out…” His stomach twists unpleasantly at the words. Never once in his life has he backed down from a fight… “But I think I’m needed here more.” I’m just choosing a different fight. He thinks as the Avengers digest his words. One that I think might be even harder.

Across from him, Natasha nods slowly, her eyes fixed on Bucky.

“That was something I was going to bring up,” Clint says suddenly, sitting up. “I don’t know if I missed this part, but I’m a little confused as to the backstory here.” He gestures helplessly at Bucky.

Steve swallows tightly and begins once again to explain Bucky’s treatment under Hydra. By the time he’s done, the room is heavy with emotion and Clint’s fists are clenched tightly on the table. “So, I need to stay here for now,” he finishes. “I can of course still advise you on your missions and keep in touch but…” He shrugs and looks down.

“Well, personally, I think that’s probably for the best.” Steve darts his head up to look at Sam and the man gives him a small smile. “You’d probably be distracted and unfocused if you came along,” he says with a tilt of his chin. “And it looks as if your friend needs you.”

Steve swallows heavily and nods gratefully at him. “Thanks Sam.”

Sam flashes him a smile and folds his arms in front of him. “Well, it’s a little self-serving of me.” He casts a look around the table. “I want in on this,” he says, waving one hand at the projected map.

Steve’s mouth opens and he sits up slightly. “Are you sure?” he asks carefully. “This won’t exactly be a short mission Sam. I can’t guarantee you’ll make it home.”

Sam’s face hardens determinedly, and he gives a decisive nod. “I know what I’m getting into,” he says solemnly. “And I know the kinds of things Hydra’s done.” His hands tighten from where they’re folded, and he straightens his shoulders. “I’ll just need a few days to get my things in order and then I’ll be ready to go.”

Silence falls for a second before Steve realises the other Avengers are waiting for his decision. He gives Sam a brief smile and nods his head. “We’ll be happy to have you then,” he says.

“Sure,” Tony says, bringing the room’s focus back to him. “I’ll have to revamp those wings for you though.” He gives Sam a wry smile. “I’m sure I can come up with a few adjustments.” Sam looks a little like he’d died and gone to heaven at that and Steve has to fight to keep from smiling as the rest of the meeting moves on to preparing and training for their upcoming Hydra hunt.

“Bruce, I was hoping I could have a word with you?” Steve says as the meeting draws to a close and the Avengers begin filing out of the room.

A look of surprise flickers over Bruce’s face but he nods easily enough and gives Steve a small smile. “Sure, we can stay here if you want?” he says, gesturing at the emptying meeting room.

Steve nods and waves a little as Tony exits the room, leaving him alone with Bucky and Bruce. “I know you’re not officially a doctor,” he starts. “But I was hoping you could help me a little, if only to point me in the right direction.”

Bruce gives a cautious nod. “What do you need?”

Steve lets out a quiet sigh, conscious of the way Bucky sits completely silent on his left. It feels weird talking about him like this, but he wants to make sure that Bucky is properly cared for. “Bucky needs a doctor to make sure he’s healthy,” he explains. “I also want to start getting him to eat solid foods, but I’m not exactly sure how to do that.”

Bruce relaxes slightly as he falls into his element. “I see,” he says, his eyes a little distant as he thinks. “Well… I did go to medical school for a while, and I have enough hands-on experience that I can run basic check-ups to make sure he stays healthy,” he explains. “But you’re right when you say you’ll probably need a specialised doctor for some things.” He looks up at Steve. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

Steve smiles slightly and he feels himself relax a little. He’s glad that Bruce will be able to treat Bucky since he trusts him, and he hopes that having Bruce around Bucky in the tower will help them build up some trust between each other as well. “Thanks Bruce,” he says before rolling his shoulders and stretching out his neck. “I’m flying a little blind on this one.”

Bruce’s eyes flicker over to Bucky, who’s still stiff and zoned out at the table. “That’s understandable,” he says softly. “But you don’t have to do this alone, even with hunting down Hydra, we’ll be around, and we’ll help you the best we can.”

Steve breathes in deeply and nods as he gets up. “Thanks,” he says as Bucky stands along with him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

There’s still about an hour left till lunch now that the meeting is over, and Steve spends most of it showing Bucky around the tower.

“You can go to any of these public rooms without permission,” he says as he shows Bucky the gym, although he privately thinks that it’s unlikely that Bucky will be going anywhere by himself in the near future. “If you want to talk to any of the Avengers specifically, you can ask JARVIS to call them.”

“Confirmed,” Bucky says blandly, although his eyes rove over the gym with something akin to interest in their depths.

“Tony’s labs are in the basement,” he explains as they take the elevator back up to the common room. “Ask him or JARVIS if you want to go in there, sometimes he’s got sensitive projects running, so he doesn’t like people just wandering in.”

Of course, that rule hasn’t seemed to apply much to me, he muses as he makes his way to the common room kitchen and starts trying to figure out lunch. Maybe because we needed somewhere secure to discuss Hydra.

Now that the proverbial cat’s out of the bag though, he doesn’t really have an excuse to go down and talk to Tony all the time, and Steve finds himself a little saddened at the thought. He’s grown close to Tony throughout the past year, and he’s not ready to lose that just yet.

I’m sure someone will still have to drag him out of his lab every once and a while, he thinks with a small grin as he fishes out a tub of vanilla ice cream and a bag of frozen peach slices from the freezer.

This freezer is, of course, just as cold as the one in his room, and he’s busy trying to ignore that fact when Sam materializes by his shoulder. “Is that ice cream?” he asks, making Steve jump and almost drop the item in question. “I didn’t take you for the type to eat sweets for lunch.”

Steve’s mouth quirks as he shifts away and drops the carton on the counter, his fingers unconsciously drifting down to wipe against his pants. “It’s for a smoothie,” he says dryly. “It’s got fruit. It’s healthy.”

Sam laughs and starts rummaging through the cupboards around him. “Well. I am the kind of person who would eat ice cream for lunch, so if you’d help me find a bowl, I’d happily help you eat that.”

Steve points them out as he pulls out the blender, only to turn around to find Bucky sitting placidly beside Clint, who’s crouched on top of the counter.

“I heard there was ice cream,” he says, his eyes a little too wide.

“Feet off the table,” Steve replies flatly, snagging the ice cream bucket away from Sam’s sneaky fingers. “I get first dibs, you two can fight it out amongst yourselves after.”

Clint hops off the counter and makes a dash for the bowls as Steve begins scooping out his ice cream into the blender. “It’s a good thing we’re not allergic to milk,” he remarks casually to Bucky as he hands off the carton to an eager Sam and begins adding the other ingredients to his smoothie. “Although, I guess the serum might have fixed that if we were.” Bucky seems at a loss of how to respond and opts to remain silent, not that Steve is really all that surprised.

Once the smoothies are made, he gives Bucky his, and makes himself a ham sandwich as well. It won’t fill out his calorie count exactly, but he decides that it’s close enough. Afterwards, Bucky helps him with the dishes again, patiently waiting to be told the placement of each dry dishware. Clint catches on about half-way through and starts giving helpful suggestions from the sidelines.

Bucky seems to freeze at the first suggestion, his eyes darting to Steve’s as if asking permission to respond. He relaxes once he gets an assenting nod though, and seems to follow Clint’s directions well enough.

“Cap likes to do them by hand,” Clint tells him around a spoonful of ice cream. “Donno why he can’t use the dishwasher.”

Bucky offers no reply.

Clint’s still working his way through the remaining ice cream by the time Steve’s finished the dishes, his mind already racing through what to do next with Bucky.

He should probably take him to see Tony about his arm, but he also needs clothes, and a dresser probably… should he ask Tony for those things or should he take Bucky out to buy them? He’s not sure if Bucky is aware enough to really care about what clothes he wears, and taking him outside and forcing him to choose things might be stressful… but he doesn’t want to keep Bucky cooped up or accidentally shelter him too much either…

Something touches his elbow and he jerks slightly before realising it’s Sam. “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second,” he says, gesturing towards the sitting area a step down from the kitchen.

“Oh,” Steve says, casting a glance over towards Bucky. “Sure?”

Sam smiles at him before looking over at Bucky. “Can you just wait here for a second?”

Bucky tenses and his eyes dart back and forth between Sam and Steve, clearly unsure as to what protocol to follow here.

Steve’s stomach clenches and he fights to keep a mild expression on his face as he nods at Bucky. “You can wait here,” he says quietly.

At his words Bucky relaxes and falls into the unfocused stare that makes Steve’s tongue curl inside his mouth. Pressing his lips together he turns away and follows Sam towards the common room sitting area.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asks as he sits down on one of the couches so that he’s facing Sam.

Sam’s mouth crooks up and he shakes his head slightly. “Yeah man, I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Steve sits back and blinks a little in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Sam leans forward a little and gives Steve a calm look. “You’ve taken on a big responsibility here,” he says, his eyes fixed on Steve. “And that can be overwhelming, I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

Steve finds he has to drop his head away from Sam’s gaze and he bites his cheek as something like embarrassment wells up inside him. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says, his hands clenching in his lap.

Sam ducks his head lower, trying to catch his gaze. “I know,” he says simply. “But you’re my friend, or at least, I think.” He gives Steve a wry smile. “We flew around and exploded some stuff out of the sky, I just kind of assumed that’s how you introduce yourself to people.”  

Steve finds his mouth twitching almost involuntarily into a smile and he looks back up at Sam. “Well, you made a better impression then, than you did jogging.”

Sam scoffs and leans back. “Oh sure,” he says with a wave of his hand. “The jogging is what you pay attention to.”

Steve chuckles a little before looking back down at his clasped hands. Beside him, Sam stays quiet and lets him think.

Bruce’s words from earlier about not being alone run through his mind and Steve lets out a little breath as he looks back up at Sam. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he admits quietly, his hands tightening in his lap. “I don’t know what Bucky needs and I don’t want to mess this up more than I already have.”

Sam nods along with him. “I think anyone who finds themselves in a caretaking position like you would feel similarly,” he says after a second. “You’re doing the best you can right now and I’m sure you will keep doing so… but it’s not healthy to do this all by yourself.” He clasps his hands in front of him and gives Steve a calm look. “Have you thought about having him see a therapist?”

Steve blinks at Sam a little blankly. “Therapist?” he says uncertainly.

The barest of something seems to flicker in Sam’s eyes, but the next second it’s gone as he begins to explain about various therapies and therapists.

“Oh!” Steve sits up a little.” I think… I think Tony mentioned those before. They’re like doctors.”

Sam nods and smiles a little. “Yes, they can help Bucky process what’s happened to him and work through some of it.”

Steve’s eyes dart briefly back to where Bucky is waiting in the kitchen and he frowns a little. “I don’t know… how well that would work right now,” he admits slowly. “Bucky is hardly… I’m not sure he’ll even ask to go to the bathroom, let alone hold a conversation with a stranger…” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “If we introduce someone like that to him right now, I’m worried he’ll take it as someone whose job it is to spy on him and ‘maintain’ him.”

Sam frowns at that, his eyes also glancing up to study Bucky. “That would be a problem,” he says after a moment. “It is possible that Bucky isn’t in a good place for that right now…” He looks over at Steve. “But it is an important step in healing,” he says firmly. “Bucky most likely will need someone eventually with professional distance to help him through his trauma.” He leans forward again and gives Steve a gentle look. “As much as you want to help him, it’s important that both of you have other outlets and support structures as you go through this.”

Steve sucks in a breath and closes his eyes briefly, his shoulders feeling less tense as he comes to terms with the fact that he won’t be having to figure this all out by himself. “Thanks Sam,” he says quietly, opening his eyes.

Sam tilts his head and gives Steve a small grin. “No problem Cap, just let me know if you need me to find someone for Bucky to talk to.”

Steve nods determinedly. “I will.”

Sam relaxes and stands, giving Steve’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he passes. “Let me know if you need anything,” he says, catching Steve’s eye and holding it for a second.

Steve nods back a little confused before standing up as well and heading back towards the kitchen. Bucky stands, waiting patiently as usual, and Steve’s eyes catch on the silver metal of his left arm.

Okay, he thinks, cycling a gust of air. I can do this. Just one thing at a time.

He gestures for Bucky to follow him and heads toward the elevator, Bucky falling into step behind his left shoulder. Time to talk to Tony.  

Chapter Text

Bucky follows him down to Tony’s lab without complaint and Steve tries to steel himself for whatever is to come. He’s seen the scarring around Bucky’s prosthetic and he’s not really sure if he wants to know what’s underneath.

It doesn’t matter, he thinks stubbornly as Tony waves them into the lab. If this will help Bucky, then it will be worth it.

Tony offers them a smile as they enter but his shoulders are tight and Steve gathers that he’s a bit apprehensive about this too, making him wonder if it’s hard for Tony to work around Bucky because of his role in Howard’s and Maria’s death, or if he’s just worried about spooking the assassin if he makes a wrong move. He swallows a little uneasily and hopes that Tony is as okay with this as he says.  

“I’m just going to take a look today,” Tony tells Bucky as he gestures for him to sit on a stool by a table. “See what we’re dealing with.”

Steve hears Bucky’s heartbeat kick up a notch and his whole body tenses as he looks over to him, his breathing quiet and deliberately controlled.

Steve’s stomach clenches and he swallows tightly as he thinks back to the Hydra technicians from the Vault and how all this must feel for Bucky. “It’s okay Buck,” he reassures around a growing lump in his throat. “You’re not in trouble, Tony’s just going to look.”

Bucky’s eyes dart nervously around the room, focusing back on him before he very slowly walks over and lowers himself onto the stool that Tony had indicated, lifting his prosthetic arm to rest on the table next to him.

Tony’s hands clench at Bucky’s reaction and he looks just about as tense, but he tries to give him a small smile as he steps carefully forwards. “Just hold still and you should be fine,” he tells him. “Let me know if anything hurts.”

Steve nods, folding his arms. “Level of acceptable pain, zero,” he says firmly, knowing that thanks to Hydra’s training, Bucky probably won’t report anything otherwise. Tony’s face tightens as he catches the implications behind his words and Bucky shifts uneasily in his chair, his heartbeat speeding up again.

His eyes dart around the room and catch on Steve’s for a second before he ducks his head and stares into his lap. “…Current pain, level two,” he mumbles softly, his body tensing at every word until he’s wound tight like a spring.

Steve and Tony freeze at his admission and Tony’s eyes snap to meet his as they both realise what Bucky’s trying to say. “So… you’re saying, ‘level two’ pain… is normal for you?” Tony asks slowly, his eyes focused on the hunched figure in front of him.

Bucky’s entire frame practically oozes stress and Steve can hear his heart pounding, but he nods his head slightly. “Affirmative,” he says, his eyes still fixed on his lap.

A look of anger passes over Tony’s face, lightning quick, before he sucks in a quiet breath and turns a determined gaze back to Steve. “Chronic pain, probably,” he says tightly. “Wouldn’t be surprised. JARVIS can you pull up the scans that you did earlier?”

“Certainly Sir,” JARVIS replies, managing to sound vaguely pissed as well. In front of Tony several 3-D images of Bucky and his prosthetic pop up and Tony reaches forward to start manipulating them.

Steve doesn’t exactly understand what all the mechanised parts of the arm means, but he can tell from the scans that everything about it is extremely invasive.

Tony’s mouth thins as he examines the scans and his eyes dart back and forth between them and Bucky. “Yeah,” he says after a moment, turning back to Steve. “You can see how the weight of it is pulling him down.” He gestures to the scans, various areas lighting up in red as he talks. “It’s stressing his muscles and his frame because of how heavy it is and how it’s attached.”

Steve swallows back a wave of nausea and clenches his teeth. Bucky had been in pain this whole time and he hadn’t even known. “Can you fix it?” he asks, his voice strained.

Tony grimaces and pulls one of the images closer to him. “Not easily,” he says after a moment. “I’d likely have to replace the whole thing…” He glances down at Bucky and back up to Steve before his eyes grow distant and his eyebrows tick down as he thinks. “It’d be possible but…” He presses his lips together. “I don’t think… he can properly consent to something like that right now.”

Steve’s stomach drops and he looks toward Bucky who’s busy holding perfectly still and staring intently in front of him. Tony’s right. Even if he could design a new arm to replace the one that Bucky has, it would be an extremely invasive surgery, and Bucky isn’t really able to decide right now or understand the consequences for something like that.

His eyes catch on the faint glow of light in Tony’s chest and he’s certain that Tony will never want to operate on Bucky unless he’s completely aware of what’s happening.

I don’t want him to be in pain, he thinks uneasily, biting his lip. But would we really be doing the right thing if we operated on him? It would be almost exactly what Hydra did.

“Is there anything else we can do?” he asks Tony. “In the meantime?”

Tony purses his lips and waves away the image he’d been poking at before heading towards a near by terminal. “There… is that sedative Bruce and I made for you.” He pulls up the relevant files on the computer and turns to look at Steve. “Your serum is different than Bucky’s, so we’d have to modify it a bit, but it might work as a painkiller until we can comfortably work on his arm.”

Steve feels his shoulders relax as he remembers allowing Tony and Bruce to try and create a sedative for him. He’s suddenly very, very glad he did. “When would that be ready?” he asks, going over to join Tony at the computer terminal.

Tony’s brow furls and his fingers tap distractedly against his leg as he thinks. “Definitely a few days,” he says. “We’ll need to modify it a little and make sure it works.”

Steve’s lips press together unhappily at the idea that Bucky will have to be in pain for a while longer, but he nods his head. He doubts regular medication will work on Bucky, so this is the best option they have right now. “Okay,” he says finally. “That will work.”

Tony nods his head. “Yup. Okay,” he says shortly as he begins shutting down the computer screen, his movements weirdly fidgety as his hands flutter around him, his head ducked as though nervous or embarrassed about something.

Steve’s brow pinches together in concern as he watches Tony’s nervous movement and he feels a flare of alarm spark up in his stomach. “Is there something else?” he asks, the back of his neck tingling as he racks his brain to figure out what has got Tony so flustered. Was it Bucky?

“No,” Tony burst out before grimacing and shrugging awkwardly. “Well, yes… but no. It’s something else but not about this.” He gestures vaguely to the screen that he’d been fiddling with.

Steve feels himself relax slightly, but confusion still runs through him at Tony’s strange behavior. “Is something wrong?” he asks quietly as he scans the man in front of him.

Tony chuckles and shakes his head, his hands drumming on the terminal in front of him. “Nope,” he says with a lightness that Steve has come to recognise as a stress shield. “No, I’m just bad at this.” Tony waves his hands vaguely. “And I wasn’t really sure when to bring it up…” He casts a glance behind him to where Bucky is still sitting at the table before picking up a bundle of wires and twisting them.

Steve darts his eyes between Tony and Bucky cautiously as he tries to figure out what’s bothering the engineer.

Maybe Tony isn’t as comfortable with Bucky being here as I thought, he reasons. He and Tony had talked about what to do with Bucky after they defeated Hydra, and he had seemed amiable to letting him live in the tower, but talking about something and actually doing it are two different things. And even though Hydra had been the one to put a hit out for Howard and Maria, it was still Bucky’s hands that had done it, and that probably wasn’t easy for Tony to think about.

“Is it about Bucky?” he asks lowly, his stomach growing uneasy with nerves. If Tony decides that he doesn’t want Bucky in the tower, then he’s not sure what he’s going to do. He needs somewhere safe and stable where he can stay with Bucky and the tower is good because he has access to the care he needs and they don’t have to worry about things like groceries or rent most of the time. But if Tony isn’t comfortable then they’ll probably have to move somewhere else, which would in turn put a strain on the Avengers…

“No no,” Tony says, the bundle of wires a blur as he waves his hands. “This is… this, ah geez.” He rubs the bridge of his nose and looks down, his hands continuing to compulsively fiddle with the wires. “I was just wondering,” he says slowly and deliberately. “If you remember what we said we’d do, after we took down Hydra.”

Tony tenses up as he speaks and seems entirely focused on the wires in front of him, leaving Steve to blink at him confusedly as he tries to remember what Tony is referring to.

“I asked if you were busy and then you said that Hydra wouldn’t be taken out in April,” Tony rambles on, his fingers twisting on the wires in his hands. “Except it actually was, so you were wrong about that.”

“Oh.” Steve’s eyes widen as he remembers the time, a few weeks ago, when Tony had come into the gym without actually using it, and had talked to him about… “Those doctors.” Tony relaxes slightly at Steve’s remembrance and nods his head. “I said… I’d look into it, after Hydra,” he continues slowly, his eyes darting between Tony and the mess of wires in his hands. “And you said, you’d go too.”

Tony shrugs awkwardly and untangles a wire from the bunch with a jerk before setting it on the table. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “’Cept I wasn’t sure if you thought Hydra was gone or not.”

Oh, Steve thinks as he realises what Tony is doing. He’s giving him an out, a reason to decide that their deal doesn’t count yet, because there are still Hydra bases out there… But he’s also giving him a chance to follow up on the promise they’d made, if he wants to.

His eyes flicker distractedly between Tony and Bucky as he thinks. It’s probably significant that both Tony and Sam had brought up these therapist people in the same day. People really seemed to think that they were important, and different from the kinds of doctors that they’d had in the 40s…

Let me know if you need anything, Sam had said, and Steve belatedly realises that he might have been subtly trying to invite him to reach for the same type of support that he’d been suggesting for Bucky.

He thinks back to the VA and how all those veterans had been there, soldiers admitting that they needed help… how that woman had smiled at Sam after the session, even though she’d admitted to something so painful.

He looks at Tony and thinks back to how he’d seemed to have come into the gym that day solely to talk to him, leaving as soon as he’d stopped pummelling the bags. How he’d agreed to go see these therapists too, and how he’d brought them up now, even though he could have just let Steve forget about their little deal.

He watches Tony’s anxious fiddling and thinks about how it’s only been a few months for him since he’d learned about the violent nature of his parents’ death.

Steve sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, his eyes traveling up to rest on Bucky. It’s important that both of you have other outlets and support structures as you go through this, Sam had said.  

“Well I think…” His voice catches and Tony stills, his eyes darting up to meet him. Steve clears his throat and glances away as he tries again. “I think… I think exploding those Helicarriers out of the sky… probably counts as taking down Hydra so…” He swallows tightly. “I think I can… um,” his cheeks heat slightly and his fingers drop down to trace a random pattern on the table beside him. “Sam, um, I think he could help me find someone like those, therapists you were talking about so…”

Tony nods along determinedly, his hands methodically tugging apart the wires as he speaks. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, his eyes focused on Steve’s ear. “That’s what I was thinking, so, ah, JARVIS was going to… um look up some people for me to, you know…” He trails off with a shrug, the bundle of wires in his hands coming apart and forcing him to put them down on the table.

Steve breathes out slowly while Tony does the same, and he feels a sudden bolt of embarrassed amusement at how difficult both of them find it to talk about this sort of thing. His mouth quirks upwards and he huffs out a shaky laugh. “Sounds good,” he says as Tony relaxes further and turns back towards where Bucky is waiting.

“Yeah,” Tony says, before almost visibly falling back into his confident persona. “Now, how ‘bout we get moving and take a look at your friend over here?”

The rest of the examination goes relatively smoothly, although Steve can’t say that Bucky is relaxed for it. He spends most of Tony’s examination completely still, moving only when required for one of the tests.

“Acceptable level of additional pain, zero,” Steve reminds him, his stomach clenching again as he thinks back to Bucky’s newfound chronic pain. Thankfully, none of the tests that Tony runs are painful in nature, and he soon has all the data he needs.

He’s busy filtering through said data when Steve pulls him aside again, Bucky sitting patiently on his stool, calmer now that the exam is over. “Bucky’s staying in my room for now,” he tells him. “But I’m going to need some things for him, he doesn’t have any clothes and I don’t have anywhere to put them…”

“Oh,” Tony waves his hand easily. “Ask JARVIS, he can help you find something that will work. Whatever you need.”

Steve relaxes and smiles back. “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony shrugs almost self-consciously and turns back to his screens. “No problem, Cap. Let me know if he needs a room of his own too.”

A room of his own, Steve thinks as he and Bucky head back up from the labs. Giving Bucky his own room feels like a good step forward, but he’s not actually sure that would be a good idea right now.

For one, right now Bucky requires supervision. He’s accustomed to being ordered around, and Steve isn’t sure he’d even eat unless he was there to give him food, so even if Bucky did have his own room, Steve would practically have to live there anyways, making sure that Bucky took care of himself.

Secondly, Bucky is used to being idle while not on missions. He’s worried that if Bucky had his own room, he’d simply treat it like his cell back in the Vault and do nothing all day. At least if he stays with Steve for now, he can hopefully learn how to live by example.

Still, Bucky would need his own space eventually, there’s only so long he can camp out on Steve’s couch.

The rest of the day passes smoothly, although Steve is constantly aware of Bucky’s presence at his side and it’s a little exhausting being hyperaware of him all the time.

For supper he takes them back to the common room, hoping to run into Sam again, but Bruce is the only one there, standing over a pan of something that smells delicious when they enter. “Steve,” he says, looking up at the sound of the elevator. “I didn’t expect you to come down.”

Steve offers him a small smile as he fishes around in the communal pantry, looking for some kind of soup he can heat up. Bruce seems to be making an Indian dish that he had picked up during his travels and he offers to share it with him as he starts heating up his soup on the stove. “No thanks,” he replies, bracing himself as he goes to open the freezer for the, by now, customary smoothie. “I’d probably have to eat that whole thing to get enough of it.”

Bruce nods his head in understanding as Steve measures out some protein powder into the smoothie and they work in comfortable silence after that.

Sam hasn’t come in by the time they’re finished supper, and Steve spends all of dishes afterwards trying to decide what to do. He wants to talk to Sam as soon as possible, before he loses his nerve and before Sam goes back to D.C. to get his things in order, but he also wants to do it in private. He’d been hoping that Sam would come down so that they could talk, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

I could ask to meet with Sam in his room, he thinks as he rinses out the soup pot. But then I’d either have to bring Bucky with me or leave him here.

Leaving Bucky in the common room with Bruce might give them a chance to get to know each other… but he can still remember how distressed Bucky had gotten the other day when he’d stepped away for a moment… it might not be the best idea to leave him alone right now.

Then again, it might teach Bucky that he can be safe in the tower without Steve and help him grow to trust the other Avengers.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek in frustration, he sighs indecisively as he washes a bowl and directs his voice upwards. “JARVIS, can you ask Sam to come down to the common room?” he says tiredly. “I need to talk to him.”

“Certainly Captain,” JARVIS replies and Steve washes the last of the remaining dishes while he waits for JARVIS’ response. “Staff Sergeant Wilson will be down momentarily,” he says and Steve blinks a little. For some reason it feels weird having JARVIS address Sam by his rank.

Apparently, Sam feels the same way. “I told you to call me Sam,” he says as he comes down, directing his eyes to the ceiling.

“Indeed Sam.” Is JARVIS’ only reply, sounding a little miffed that he can’t address Sam by his title.

Steve cracks a smile at that as he dries his hands and turns to Bucky. “Wait in the kitchen with Bruce please,” he says, and both Bucky and Bruce nod at him as he goes over to talk to Sam.

“What’s up?” Sam asks as they head over to the living room area and sit down.

Steve’s stomach swoops with sudden nerves as he opens his mouth to speak and he finds himself hunching his shoulders instead and clasping his hands together. His mouth twists and he scowls a little in frustration. Apparently, this is still going to be difficult.

Taking a breath, he looks back up at Sam and tries to brace himself. “I… I was wondering, if…” He presses his lips together and grits his teeth. “If you… could help me find one of those… therapist people. For… for myself.” The words drag out of him painfully and he finds himself staring at the couch beside Sam, instead of his face by the end of it.

His eyes dart to Sam as he shifts, and the barest flash of surprise flickers in Sam’s eyes before he smiles warmly at Steve. “I would be happy to,” he says, looking almost proudly over at him. “Did you have anything specific in mind?”

Steve sucks in a breath and tries to relax. “No, I… don’t really know… much about this sort of thing.”

Sam smiles gently. “That’s okay Steve,” he says. “I have a few ideas.”

Steve feels some of the tension ease out of his body and he breathes out. “What did you have in mind?”

Sam doesn’t set him up with a therapist right away, instead he gives Steve several links to VA sites. “I’m going to D.C. tomorrow,” he says. “But I’ll be back in a few days. Read these, and we’ll talk after.”

Steve swallows and nods, feeling strangely drained as he says goodbye to Sam and heads to his room with Bucky in tow.

Bucky makes up his bed on the couch again with no fuss and Steve takes the time to ask JARVIS to order some clothes for Bucky and a dresser that will fit in the space by the wall where all his things are currently being kept, before retreating back to his room.

He leaves the door half-open as usual and opts to leave the light off so he doesn’t disturb Bucky, but he can’t bring himself to go to sleep just yet. Instead he lays down and pulls out his phone, clicking on the first link that Sam had sent him.

From it he learns that there are Veteran Centres and V.A Medical Centres in New York, which he hadn’t realised, and he finds that there’s actually one right in Manhattan, near the tower. He spends some time navigating those links, but it isn’t until he clicks on Sam’s next website that he really starts to understand why Sam had approached him.

It’s a site for the PTSD: National Center for PTSD, and at first he’s a little confused by the terminology, but one google search later and he very quickly comes to understand what’s being discussed.

It’s shell-shock. Battle fatigue. Except, it was… treatable. They weren’t acting like it was shameful or… or cowardly. They were talking about it. There was a whole site about it. Steve presses his lips together and his stomach twists uncomfortably as he reads through the site. But… but I’m not fatigued, he thinks stubbornly. I can still fight, I’m not a liability.

The site has a short video labelled “What is PTSD?” and he clicks on it, a part of him hoping that it will prove that he’s right, and that Sam didn’t need to send him this link at all.

“Have you or someone you love ever been in a tornado or car crash?” The video starts off, animations of a totaled car rapidly being drawn onto a white screen to accompany the words. “Experienced sexual or physical abuse? Served in a war zone?” More images are added on and Steve swallows nervously as the video continues, hoping that the sound won’t bother Bucky in the next room.

“Most people have been through some kind of life threatening or traumatic event,” the video explains. “And it’s common to have stress related reactions after a trauma.”

Okay, Steve thinks, relaxing a little. So, I might be fine then.

“But,” the video continues with the image of a flipping calendar. “When symptoms last more than three months, and they’re not getting better, it’s time to get help.”

Steve’s stomach plummets and he hunches over his screen a little as he watches wide-eyed as the video goes on to describe the experiences of a recently returned veteran. It describes how he’s uncomfortable in crowded places and needs to sit with his back to the wall, the exit in view, when he goes out with his wife and how, even then, going out isn’t fun anymore.

Steve tries not to think about how little he actually goes places, and how the crowded museum exhibit had been difficult to handle when he’d gone that one time with Tony.

The video continues with almost an uncanny description of the man’s restless and troubled sleep, and short temper and Steve finds himself curling into himself even more as the video talks about the guilt and isolation that the man carries with him, thanks to his combat experience. He has to consciously remember to keep from holding onto his phone too hard as he watches.

With the help of his wife, the man in the video decides to reach out to a doctor and explain his symptoms. And that’s where the video really starts coming down hard.

“Re-Experiencing, Hyperarousal, Feeling worse about yourself or the world, and Avoidance are the four types of symptoms people with PTSD have,” the video explains before going on to describe each of the symptoms.

Reliving or re-experiencing the event is the first one, and Steve tenses at the description of flashbacks and chronic nightmares that is shown. He hadn’t realised that that was a diagnosable symptom. He’d thought that that was simply something he had to live with now, he’d thought that was normal.

Avoidance is just as relevant. He hadn’t known that avoiding things that upset him and reminded him of his trauma was also a symptom. His constant need to work and numb himself through Tony’s punching bags probably fell into that category as well.

As for feeling worse about the world… he’d simply thought that that was a result of waking up 70 years in the future… of course, that probably counts as a trauma too… and he swallows a little nervously at the realisation.

Hyperarousal doesn’t mean what he thought it would. It means anger or irritability and constant alertness… and Steve finds it hard to argue his way out of that one too. So far, his work with SHIELD had been a good outlet for his pent-up emotions, but that was going away soon, and he’s not sure how well he’ll handle not being able to vent his feelings through missions anymore.

“If you recognize these symptoms of PTSD in yourself, or someone you love,” the video continues. “Don’t wait. See your doctor to find out if it could be PTSD.”

Steve blinks and finds his eyes wetter than he was expecting. “You don’t have to live with the symptoms of PTSD forever,” the video finishes reassuringly. “Effective treatments are available.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath as the video finishes and sets his phone aside, drawing his hand across his eyes. He hadn’t… he hadn’t exactly realised that the things he’d been living with were treatable, that they needed to be treated.

You’re not broken or anything Rogers, Tony had said ages ago. From what I know it’s a perfectly normal reaction to a traumatic event.

Tony must have looked up PTSD too, he realises. Because of the portal during the battle of New York. He suddenly feels kind of bad that Tony had waited with him for so long to get help. Tony had waited for almost as long as he had to get help, and Steve almost wishes that they’d gone earlier.

Of course, he knows why they hadn’t. He’d been too defensive about it for one, and he hadn’t wanted to risk ruining his cover with Hydra. And he hadn’t known that it was a problem. He hadn’t known about PTSD. Why hadn’t… why hadn’t this been covered when SHIELD had been trying to help integrate him into society?

Steve lets out a breath and flops down onto his pillow. The answer to that question probably lies somewhere with Hydra. They hadn’t known at first that he would be a Hydra agent, so they would have wanted to keep him in check the best they could.

And what better way of controlling someone than making sure they’re slightly unstable?

Steve scowls and reaches for his phone again, this time clicking on a video of various veterans discussing what PTSD treatment had done for them.

Whatever the reason, he can’t change what has been done. But he can decide what he’s going to do now. And he is going to get help.

Chapter Text

Despite his decision to get help, Steve still can’t help feeling guilty as the Avengers around him prepare to face off against Hydra. Clint and Natasha disappear for a few days and return smelling of smoke and looking triumphant, declaring the Washington base and Zola’s bunker to be neutralised.

Tony and Bruce work steadily at producing a sedative for Bucky (although it’s more Bruce than Tony on that one), and Tony lets himself go wild on improving Sam’s Falcon equipment.

Steve, on the other hand, waits patiently (albeit nervously) for Sam to get back from settling his things in D.C., because once he returns, they can finally start the process of getting Steve one of these therapist people.

They go to the VA NY Harbor Health Care System Manhattan Campus first and get him registered there to see a doctor.

The process isn’t insanely complicated, but he’s glad he has Sam to help him navigate the system. He’s fairly certain that without Sam’s help, he’d probably give up on this whole thing before he even started.

He hasn’t seen a civilian doctor since waking up from the ice, and it’s awkward having to admit things to a stranger that he’s just barely come to admit to himself, but once he’s finished talking to her, she formally diagnosis him with PTSD, and for some reason, it’s more of a relief than he’d expected.

It’s nice, in a way, to be reassured that what he’s going through is normal, understandable, and treatable.

Medication isn’t really an option for him, so his doctor recommends therapy and Sam helps him complete the process in finding one that would suit him.

“I know this guy,” Sam says as he hands him a business card. “He’s a vet too, so he’ll be able to relate to your situation better than some other people, and he can sign an NDA so that you can talk about SHIELD and Avenger stuff no problem.”

Even though he’s made up his mind to get help, it still takes him several days to convince himself to finally make the appointment with ‘Jason Davis’. And once he does, he finds himself growing both nervous and excited as the day approaches.

Jason has an office in the Manhattan VA centre, where he does most of his counselling, and Steve’s fingers tap together restlessly as he sits in the waiting room. Today marks the longest time he’s been away from Bucky since taking down the Helicarriers and it feels… wrong not to have him hovering by his shoulder at all times.

The feeling leaves him jittery and tense even though he knows that Bucky should be fine. He’d left him watching movies with Clint, and while Bucky hadn’t seemed happy about him leaving, he hadn’t freaked out either. And he had specifically scheduled his first session in the afternoon so that he could feed Bucky before he left, since he wasn’t sure how Bucky would react if someone else made him food.

So, things should be fine.

Steve sucks in a breath and tries to keep his foot from tapping against the floor as he waits to be called in.

This is good, he reminds himself. This is what you wanted.

That doesn’t make him any less nervous though.

“Mr. Rogers?” He looks up to see an African-American man with short dreads and a button-down shirt stepping towards him.

“That’s me,” Steve says, standing up and offering his hand. “But please call me Steve.”

The man smiles at him and accepts his handshake. “I’m Jason Davis,” he says, before gesturing behind him. “How ‘bout we head to my office.”

Steve swallows and nods, subtly trying to wipe his sweaty hands on his jeans as he follows Jason out of the waiting room and down the hall, into his office. The room is decorated in warm tones of wood and leather, with bookshelves lining the walls and a wooden desk in the corner by a window, and two comfortable looking chairs facing each other in the middle of the room, with a coffee table sitting in between them.

As Jason motions for him to sit in one, Steve notices that they are both situated so that both the window and the door to the room can be seen from either chair, neither occupant having to sit with their back to an exit. That very fact makes him feel a little more at ease as he settles into his chair, choosing to set the pillow it comes with on the ground beside him.

“So, I know you’ve already gone through the paperwork at the desk,” Jason says as he sits across from Steve. “But I wanted to go over it with you, in case you have any questions.”

Steve nods and listens carefully as Jason goes on to explain the confidentiality agreement between the both of them and its few exceptions. “I also usually take notes during my sessions,” Jason explains. “They help me remember what we’ve talked about, but if that makes you uncomfortable then I won’t do that.”

Steve’s eyes drop down to the pad of paper and pen sitting on the coffee table and he crosses his leg in front of him. “That’s okay,” he says, his eyes focusing on the back of Jason’s chair. “I don’t mind.”

Jason nods easily and Steve reminds himself to breathe deeply as the man reaches for the pad and rests it on his lap. “So,” Jason says, his posture open as he looks up at Steve. “What brings you here today?”

Steve blinks in surprise because he kind of assumed that Jason would already know somehow, but then, maybe he just wanted to know what he was willing to share.

“Well.” He licks his lips and clasps his hands in his lap, rubbing his thumbs together. “I… have a friend and he told me… well actually a few of my friends, they kind of implied that I should see a therapist.” His eyes dart up to meet Jason’s for a second before he looks down at his hands again. “I looked into it and I saw a doctor and… apparently I have PTSD.”

Jason nods and crosses his legs under his pad. “What did you think about that?” he asks. “Your friends, and the doctor’s diagnosis?”

Steve shifts and looks out towards the window of the office. “At first… when Tony brought up therapists, I was…” He presses his lips together and looks up at Jason. “You know about my history as Captain America?” Jason nods and Steve looks to the side, taking in a breath.

“In the Forties, ‘mental health’ was treated differently,” he explains. “And when Tony brought it up the first time, I didn’t know things were different now, so… I was… I was scared, I guess. I didn’t want to go see someone.”

Jason makes a mark on his paper and tilts his head. “What about now?” he asks quietly.

Steve sits back slightly and breathes out a little. “I’m still… nervous,” he admits, rubbing his hand on his leg. “But… but I’m glad that I can do this. I’m glad that things have changed since then.”

Jason smiles at him and Steve feels himself relax slightly. “It’s completely natural to feel nervous coming into therapy,” he reassures. “Especially for the first time. But you’ve made an important and difficult step forward in your own health, and I’m proud of you for that decision.”

Steve breathes in and ducks his head slightly, feeling both proud and slightly embarrassed at receiving praise from someone he’s just met.

Thankfully, Jason doesn’t let them linger too long like that, shifting in his seat a little as he asks his next question. “So, why are you here? What do you want to get out of therapy?”

Steve’s brow furls in surprise. He hadn’t really thought about that. “I… I want to feel better,” he says after a moment. “I want to be able to sleep peacefully and I want… I want to be able to… to be in a place where I can help my friend, Bucky.”

Jason tilts his head and gives Steve a curious look. “Tell me about Bucky,” he says.

Talking with Jason isn’t as hard as he’d thought it might be. Over the course of his session he recounts Bucky when they were kids, the war, Bucky’s death, and his discovery of Hydra and subsequent reunion with Bucky. The words seem to spill out of him and, it feels… better, in a way, to be able to line up the events of his life like that, to show someone how quickly things have changed.

As they near the end of their first session and Steve finishes explaining the situation with Bucky now, Jason sets down his pad of paper and clasps his hands.

“Thank you for telling me all that,” he says, his eyes warm as he looks at Steve. “It helps me understand your situation. Now, I’d like to keep seeing you, if you feel we’re the right fit.” He smiles slightly at Steve’s confused expression. “Sometimes it takes a while to find the right counsellor,” he explains. “And if you don’t think I’m the right one, then that is perfectly fine.”

Steve rubs his hands on his pants and sits back, feeling drained now that he’s finished talking. “I’d… I’d like that,” he says slowly. “I’d like to come back.”

Jason smiles at him. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says warmly. “Will the same time next week work?” Steve nods and Jason copies him, lifting up his pad of paper. “For next week, I’d like you to keep a list of your PTSD symptoms and triggers,” he says. “I’d like to start discussing them next time, will that work?”

Steve breathes in and nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I can do that.”

oOo

Steve returns to the tower feeling inexplicably tired, and he rubs a hand over his face as he takes the elevator up to the common room where Bucky should be waiting.   

Talking with Jason had been… good. At least he thinks so. He’s actually a little impatient to go back, a part of him feeling like he’d barely just gotten started by the time the session had ended.

These kinds of things take time, he reminds himself. That’s what Sam says.

Still, talking with Jason was also draining and his stomach lurches a little in exhaustion as the elevator door opens to reveal the common room.

Bucky stands from his seat on the couch as soon as he enters, ignoring the movie he’d been watching and choosing to follow Steve with his eyes instead.

Steve tries to smile at him, but it probably comes off more as a grimace. Clint turns to look at him too and pauses the movie, some cartoon thing that Steve has yet to see.

“Hey Cap,” Clint greets him after a moment, an easy smile on his face. “We were just watching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, did you want to watch?”

Steve looks between Clint, Bucky and the screen before shrugging tiredly. “Sure,” he says, going over to settle onto the couch next to Clint, being careful to leave Bucky his space by the arm of the couch. “What’s it about?”

Clint rattles off a quick recap on the film about a wild horse during the settlement of the West and both of them carefully ignore Bucky’s stilted movements as he slowly lowers himself back onto the couch.

“We’re about halfway through,” Clint says as he presses play on the movie. “You’ll have to re-watch the whole thing yourself sometime.”

The movie is good, and the soundtrack is compelling, but Steve actually doesn’t see much of it before his eyes traitorously slip closed and he falls asleep.

He wakes up sometime later, the TV off and a blanket tucked around him, Bucky staring at him from his spot in a chair a few feet away. Steve stares back and blinks a little in confusion. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, it’s actually quite unusual for him to take naps, but it seems as though the restless nights on his mattress have started to add up a little.

Plus, he usually falls asleep on couches anyways, so this is not actually that unusual.

Except of course, the fact that he’d done it in public, in front of Clint and Bucky.

Embarrassment colours his cheeks as he sits up drowsily and looks around. The common room is empty now, and the light coming in from the windows tells him it’s definitely late afternoon.

“JARVIS, what time is it?” he asks, giving Bucky a once-over as he starts pushing the blanket away and stands up.

“The time is 5:22 pm,” JARVIS replies.

“Ah.” Steve blinks and stretches. “I guess we better start getting supper ready then,” he says to Bucky.

He almost misses it on his way to the kitchen, but for a second it looks like Bucky gives the barest, tiniest of a nod in response.  

They head back to his room after supper and Steve finds that the boxes containing Bucky’s dresser and clothes have arrived and been delivered to his door.

“Oh good,” he says as he lifts them up and makes his way inside. “I guess we just need to assemble it.”

If only he had been prepared for what he was getting himself into.

Assembling furniture should be a form of torture, he thinks frustratedly an hour later as he glares at the piles of screws and wood spread around him. Whoever designed this was definitely a sadist.

“Okay,” he says, taking a measured breath. “What’s the next step again?”

Next to him, Bucky dutifully lifts up the instruction pages and reads out the next step needed to build the dresser. “Step five,” he says carefully, turning the paper so that Steve can see the helpful illustrations. “Add, and screw in drawer side rails.”

“Okay,” Steve says again, scowling determinedly and reaching for his screwdriver. “Can you hand me the screws?”  

Despite how frustrating the vague instructions are for the dresser, it’s surprisingly… nice building it with Bucky. The work seems to set Bucky more at ease and it’s the first time they’ve really been able to work together in a long time.

“There,” Steve says, wiping his brow and looking proudly at the finished dresser. “You can put your clothes in the first two drawers and your bedding in the bottom.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker to the box of clothes next to him and nods slowly.

“Of course, you can put whatever you want in your dresser,” Steve says distractedly as he stands up and stretches. “I’ll let you know when it’s laundry day.”

Bucky’s eyes scan him as he stands up slowly too and watches him gather up the bits of plastic and garbage that came with the dresser.

“I’ll let you put your stuff away,” Steve says as he throws the garbage away and starts heading for his room, intent on giving Bucky some space and maybe getting some sleep himself. “Let me know if you need anything.”

The lights in the Vault tint everything a sickly yellow and give Bucky’s skin a washed-out look. He’s strapped into the chair again, but this time he’s struggling, his eyes wide and his breath short as he jerks against the restraints.

Steve’s breath catches as he takes a step towards him, his steps slow and heavy, as if he’s trying to drag himself through molasses. Bucky’s eyes snap to his and he jerks compulsively on the restraints.

“S-Steve?” he gasps out, and Steve’s heart clenches as he tries to reach for him. “Steve— Steve help me, please Steve,” Bucky’s eyes roll back in fear and his hands clench together as he pants and strains against the chair.  

A sudden presence at his side makes Steve flinch and he turns to see Pierce, a lifeless smile on his face as he reaches over to clasp his shoulder, his hand cold and unmoving.

“The Asset needs to be reset,” he says, his lips thin and grey, like a dead fish.

No! Steve tries to say, his eyes widening in horror. But the word stays trapped in his throat and he finds himself stumbling towards the terminal by Bucky’s chair anyways, his movements stiff and lurching, like a puppet on broken strings.

Bucky’s eyes widen as he nears and his breath stutters as his pulse skyrockets. “Wait!” He begs, his limbs straining against the restraints. “Wait no! Please!”

Steve’s stomach clenches and his eyes burn as he halts in front of the terminal, bile rising in his throat and the sound of his and Bucky’s heartbeats merging together into a cacophony of sound in his ears.

Bucky’s eyes meet his, frantic and terrified as he struggles. “Stevie.” His breath hitches and he jerks helplessly against the restraints, confusion colouring his voice and face. “Stevie… please.”

Pierce’s hand clamps down on his shoulder and Steve shivers as he leans over him. “You know what you need to do, Captain,” he hisses lowly, his breath wet against his ear as he pulls his hand towards the switch on the terminal. “For the greater good.”

“No!” Bucky cries and jerks in the chair. “No! Steve please!”

Steve jerks awake, tears in his eyes and no air left in his lungs. His heart pounds painfully against his chest as he untangles himself frantically from his blankets and leans over the side of his bed. His lungs spasm and he drags in a lungful of air before gagging and shuddering, his hands clenched in his bed sheets as though trying to anchor him.

Panting, he swipes a hand across his wet face and tries to slow down his breathing. The sheets and the shirt on his back are cold from sweat, and the blankets on his bed hopelessly tangled, the familiar sight making him wonder why he’d even bothered going to bed in the first place.

Squeezing his eyes shut and sinking back down into the bed, he sucks in another measured breath and curls in on himself. The image of Bucky trapped and frantic in the chair threatening to overwhelm him again.

And that’s when he hears it.

It’s hardly a sound at all, more of a stuttered breath, and part of him is amazed he even hears it at all, but his senses are on high-alert after his nightmare and his eyes jerk to his cracked door, the living room beyond it a darkened shadow.

His own breathing quiets and drops suddenly as he freezes and listens harder, his mind frantically latching onto the distraction.

He hears it again, the barest hitching of a breath, and he realises with a jolt that it must be Bucky in the other room. Steve’s breaths even out as he wipes his face again and processes his discovery.

Bucky was… was Bucky having his own nightmare?

Steve’s eyes stay glued on his door as he thinks and tries to figure out what to do. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Bucky having a nightmare before, and he’s not quite sure what the best way to react would be.

Going out to check on Bucky might make his friend worry he’s in trouble for having nightmares, or he could simply be embarrassed with Steve seeing him like that (heaven knows Steve would be.) But it could also help him realise he’s safe and that Steve is willing to help him…

In the end, it’s partially Steve’s own discomfort in his bed that pushes him up and out his door into the living room.

It’s too dark to see much at first, but his eyes soon adjust, and he can see Bucky sitting up, looking pale and cautious from his seat on the couch. He seems to be trying to regulate his breathing as his eyes follow Steve, but he can tell that Bucky is probably having the same tightness of breath that he is.

Upon catching sight of Bucky, Steve’s half-baked plan disintegrates, and he hesitates for half-a-step, his body tensing as he exits his room.

Uncertainty twists in his stomach and he hunches his shoulders slightly. “I…” He swallows and looks away. “I—was just going to the kitchen.” His hand shakes slightly as he runs it through his hair and he finds his heart pounding again. “If— if you want… you can come.”

Gritting his teeth and ducking his head, Steve flees to the kitchen, flicking the lights on as he enters and scanning the room around him.

He actually hadn’t planned this far and wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, but after a few seconds, his eyes land on the electric kettle beside the stove and he relaxes.

He could make tea, that’s something people do after nightmares, right? Drink warm drinks?

With a relieved breath, he fills and turns on the kettle, running a hand through his hair again as he tries to ignore the jittery energy sitting just under his skin.

A noise behind him startles him and he spins around, heart in his throat, to meet a wide-eyed and frozen Bucky standing in the doorway of the kitchen. “Oh.” He sucks in a breath and drops his shoulders, feeling stupid. “Sorry I— guess I’m a little on edge.”

Bucky blinks at him before slowly easing himself towards the island, his eyes never leaving Steve’s as he cautiously sits down.

Steve rubs restlessly at his arms and breathes out. “I’m making tea,” he says, focusing on the counter in front of Bucky. “Did you want some?”

He flicks his eyes up to look at Bucky, who stares at him silently and Steve swallows uncomfortably, looking away. “I… guess… you’ve probably never had tea before,” he says slowly before nodding decisively and heading towards his kitchen cupboard. “I’ll make you some.”

Thanks to his time spent around Bruce, Steve has gradually collected a modest stash of tea and he rifles through them now, searching for something he thinks Bucky will like. Eventually he settles on a gingerbread flavoured one that Bruce had given him for Christmas. It’s probably his favourite kind of tea, but it’s only available seasonally, so he tries not to drink it too fast.

Once he’s made his choice, he sets out the mugs and tea bags, the silence in the kitchen feeling vaguely uncomfortable as Bucky continues to watch him from the island. The kettle doesn’t take long to boil though, and Steve quickly gets to work, pouring the water and letting the tea bags steep for a minute before handing Bucky’s mug over to him.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions, blowing on his own tea and wrapping his hands protectively around the mug. The warmth from the drink feels like a relief after… after his dream.

His eyes settle almost cautiously on Bucky as he drinks, and he slowly takes in his friend’s appearance. His face is pale and drawn, the bags under his eyes making him look worn out and tired. While not a rats-nest, his hair is tangled and hangs over his face like a shield, and the collar of his shirt is rumpled and slightly damp with sweat.

We probably look very similar right now actually, he realises tiredly as he leans wearily against the counter and takes another sip of his tea. Aren’t we a pair.

The tea is starting to lose some of its immediate warmth and Steve sighs, causing Bucky’s eyes to dart to his, his hands tightening ever so slightly on his own mug.

Steve swallows and tries to relax his stance, hoping that Bucky will follow suit. “I guess we both have trouble sleeping,” he says with an uncomfortable shrug. Bucky’s eyes stay pinned on his as he slowly sips his tea and Steve gives in to the urge to continue rambling. “JARVIS tells me we’re supposed to get eight hours of sleep a night,” he says, trying not to fiddle too much with his mug and spill his tea in the process. “I try to tell him I don’t need that much because of the serum, but he doesn’t believe me.”

“That is because your serum can only go so far, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS cuts in dryly, causing both of them to jump. “Even super soldiers need to sleep.”

Steve grumbles good-naturedly into his mug and throws Bucky a smile. “There. See? What did I tell you?”

Bucky looks a little uncertain behind the strands of hair framing his face, but Steve almost thinks he sees his mouth twitch upwards for a second.

His own mouth twitches slightly and he swirls his remaining tea around in his mug before glancing behind him to read the time on the microwave. He sighs again and turns back to Bucky. “It’s too early to really do anything but…” He swallows. The thought of going back to bed really isn’t pleasant right now. “…I’m not really tired.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything back, which doesn’t surprise him, but he’s willing to bet that Bucky feels similarly to him when it comes to going back to sleep.

“What about you?” he asks cautiously, his eyes scanning Bucky as he drinks from his mug. “Are you tired?”

Bucky sets down his mug and stares at Steve for a second before giving his head a tiny shake. “Negative,” he says very quietly, his eyes flicking down to the counter.

Steve breathes in and bites his lip, his eyes flicking between Bucky and the living room behind him. “Well…” He says slowly. “Well, I… never did get to see that movie that you and Clint were watching…” Bucky’s eyes glance up to meet his, narrowing slightly as if he knows what he’s doing. “If you want… if you want,” Steve continues with a shrug. “We could watch it, now.”

Bucky’s hands remain completely still on his mug, while Steve’s twists around anxiously as he waits for Bucky’s response. “…Affirmative,” he says after a moment, his shoulders pulling into himself as he speaks.

Steve’s own shoulders drop, and he flashes Bucky as smile before finishing up the last of his tea. “Great,” he says. “We’ll have to watch it in the living room. Is that okay?”

Bucky gives a jerky nod, his eyes averted as he drains the rest of his own tea and stands up to follow Steve into the living room.

JARVIS is probably silently disapproving of their sleeping choices, but he queues up the movie easily enough, and soon Steve and Bucky are both sitting on the couch, their eyes fixed on the TV screen in front of them. It’s a little distracting, sitting with Bucky so close to him, but Steve soon finds himself pulled into the story of a wild stallion, captured by settlers and tied up to be tamed.

He blames it on his exhaustion and his disturbing nightmare, but he finds himself drawing too many parallels between Bucky and the captive horse to be comfortable. His eyes grow determinedly wet as the horse plods tiredly onto a train car, seemingly broken.

Bucky shifts beside him and Steve can feel his eyes on him, but he keeps his gaze set firmly on the screen in front of him, his hands clasped almost painfully together in his lap.

The story continues to show the horse escaping his chains and attempting to flee a forest fire, and Bucky shifts again, his throat flexing as he swallows and clenches his jaw. “…Th…th’ fire’s red,” he mumbles out, tensing and pulling away as he speaks, his chin ducked into his neck and his shoulders stiff as a board.

Steve blinks and feels his jaw go slack as he turns to stare at Bucky. His friend’s eyes looking back at him with a mix of confusion and cautious stubbornness buried in their depths.

“Yeah… I—” His breath catches, and he has to blink away a fresh wave of tears. “I see it Buck,” he manages to rasp around the growing lump in his throat.

Bucky nods decisively and turns back to the movie, his body still tense, but a glint of determinedness seeming to reflect in his eyes as they watch the horse finally get set free.

Steve swallows and thinks back to another day, another movie, and a quiet voice in his ear.

“The shoes are red Steve.”

I see it Buck, he thinks as he subtly swipes a hand over his eyes. I see it.     

Chapter Text

Things start moving faster in the tower.

Bruce and Tony test and develop a tentative pain killer for Bucky before almost immediately packing up with the rest of the Avengers and heading off to raid the Sokovian Hydra base.

“The sedative should be enough to dull the pain,” Bruce explains as he hands Steve a package of gel capsules and begins shutting down his lab. “There doesn’t seem to be any extreme side-effects, but if there’s a problem just give me a call or ask JARVIS.”

Steve nods mutely at that and tries his best to stay out of the way while the other Avengers dart around in organised chaos, doing their best to prepare for the upcoming fight.

Bucky seems aware that something is off, and he sticks to Steve’s side like glue, his eyes intently tracking the flurry of activity around them with an air of cautious confusion. For his part, Steve fights to keep from feeling guilty as he watches the Avengers pile into the quinjet and take off. He knows that they don’t blame him for not coming, but it feels wrong anyways.

He desperately hopes that none of them get hurt while their gone, knowing that he’ll probably blame any such injury on his absence and subsequent failure to protect them.

They have Sam and his upgraded Falcon suit, he reminds himself sternly as he and Bucky turn back into the common room. They’re not going in short-handed.

That doesn’t exactly make him feel better though, and after lunch he decides to take Bucky down to the gym so that he can work off some of his frustration.

Despite having previously shown the gym to Bucky, Steve doesn’t think that his friend has actually visited the place, so he makes sure to show him around the various equipment once they arrive.

“You can use whatever you want in here,” he says as he begins to wrap his hands. “I’ll be working on the punching bags. Tony’s modified them so that they’re strong enough for super soldiers.” As he heads to where the bags are hanging and winds up to take a swing, he quietly hopes that Bucky will take some initiative in choosing something to work on, instead of staring at him blankly.

At first it seems as though Bucky’s going to do just that, but after watching Steve for a few minutes he seems to come to a decision and squares his shoulders before making his way to one of the treadmills lined up along the wall.

Steve feels some tension unwind from his shoulders at that, and he’s able to fully focus on the swinging bag in front of him.

The bag is sturdy, thanks to Tony, and he doesn’t have to worry about holding back as he strikes the bag, letting the world around him fade out of focus a little as he falls into the rhythm of it.

The sounds of him hitting the bag and Bucky’s feet on the treadmill blend together in his ears as he works himself into a sweat. Thanks to his serum it’s harder to tire himself out, harder to reach his limits, harder to feel… better.

It’s only when sweat blurs his vision that he’s forced to stop and wipe his face, his chest heaving and his fists stinging from such an intense work out. The sharp focus that pervades his workout cuts out and he’s abruptly reminded of the passage of time and of Bucky’s pounding feet on the treadmill.

He whips around to see Bucky dutifully jogging away on the machine, his face blank and his eyes fixed on some distant point in front of him.

Almost as if he senses Steve’s gaze, Bucky’s eyes refocus and dart to his own, and upon seeing his inactivity he stops as well, stepping off the treadmill and clasping his hands behind his back with an expectant look, his shirt and hair damp with sweat.

Steve stares back at him and has to push down a sudden rush of guilt that threatens to swamp him. His breath catches and he reaches up to wipe his face with his arm, the stinging in his hands growing more pronounced the longer he stands still.

Bucky had been exercising as long as he had.

Bucky would have kept going if he hadn’t stopped— Bucky was doing the exact same thing he was doing.

Steve swallows and looks away, his limbs heavy with exhaustion.

He’d known, of course, that prolonged sessions in the gym probably isn’t the best coping mechanism, JARVIS had implied such plenty of times, but somehow, it feels… worse this way.

Watching Bucky copy him, probably because he felt compelled to work as hard as his handler, makes it a lot harder to justify his actions as ‘simply training’ or ‘a result of his super serum’.

His hands shake slightly as he unwraps them and he tries not to wince at the light spots of red that dot the bandages. That probably isn’t good either.

“Come on,” he says roughly to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye. “Let’s go.”

Bucky’s gaze seems especially heavy as they leave the gym.

After they’ve showered and eaten something to make up for lost calories, Steve finds himself sitting on his couch, Bucky at his side and his journal in his lap.

His next session with Jason is coming up soon and he still needs to finish the homework assignment he’d been given.

Keep a list of your PTSD symptoms and triggers. Steve presses his lips together and fiddles with his pen. He knows the symptoms of PTSD, so maybe it will be simpler to write them down and then write their specific triggers next to them.

Okay, so symptoms:

• Re-living the event
• Hyperarousal
• Avoidance
• Feeling worse about self and world

Steve’s tongue presses into the roof of his mouth as he looks over his list. Okay, so those are the symptoms, but maybe he should write down how those symptoms manifest for him specifically. He grimaces a little at the thought because doing so means that he’s going to have to actually examine his own behavior and acknowledge what parts of it point towards PTSD.

That’s probably the whole point of this, he thinks a little sardonically before gritting his teeth and getting started.

Re-living the event. Okay, so… nightmares probably fit in there. And… Steve taps his pen against his journal and thinks uncomfortably back to the first time he’d encountered fireworks, and other snippets of things—smells, sounds, sayings—that send him reeling back into a buried memory, and scribbles the word flashbacks as well.

He’s not really sure if there’s other ways of re-living something, so he moves on to the next bullet point.

Hyperarousal counts towards his constant anxiety and hyperawareness. Also, probably his short temper— it isn’t always a problem, but he’s finding that stress makes him irritated, especially when he feels his concerns are not being taken seriously.

He debates putting down paranoia for a while before ultimately deciding against it. It’s not exactly paranoia if the bad guys are actually out to get you, at least, not in his opinion.

Avoidance is probably the hardest one, because he doesn’t exactly want to acknowledge that particular behavioral trait, but eventually he concedes that he often exercises and tries to focus on other people’s problems, rather than deal with his own.

Avoidance probably also has to do with the amount of time he spends carefully not thinking about things, in an effort to avoid any kind of unpleasant memory or flashback.

Next is feeling worse about yourself and the world, and that one brings him up short. He’s not… sure what to do with that one. He can still remember when he first woke up, how new everything had been – things people didn’t even think about, like the taste of toothpaste – and how disheartening it had been to learn how things had and hadn’t changed.

He doesn’t… he doesn’t know how he feels about the world. At times it feels as though nothing has changed or gotten better, and that it was pointless to even try… but often, things feel less so, especially since he’s moved into the tower and has had a chance to be surrounded by the other Avengers, it’s easier to deal with the world with them around.

He decides to leave that point for now, choosing to focus on his specific triggers for each symptom.

Cold is an easy trigger to identify and could probably fit under each symptom respectively, and Hydra and Nazism are just as easy to pick out, and Steve’s mouth twists a little as he’s reminded that both of those things are somehow still issues now, 70 years later.

He writes down fireworks and flashing lights as well before sitting back and trying to think of what else he could put on the list.

His eyes skitter over Bucky and he thinks back to how he felt watching the Avengers leave, before quietly writing down one more thing.

Feeling helpless.

oOo

The tower is quiet without the Avengers, even though they keep in touch as often as possible.

From their reports, taking down the Sokovian base hadn’t been too much of a challenge, but Tony had discovered some sort of shady business going on with some of his former weapons, so he was busy cleaning that up while the rest of them sift through the Hydra intel left in the base.

Steve’s glad that no one has gotten hurt, but their prolonged absence means that he has to leave Bucky alone in the tower during his next session with Jason. It’s scheduled after lunch again, and Steve is sure to give Bucky his pain medication before getting ready to go.

“I have to go to a… to a doctor’s appointment,” he tells Bucky, fiddling nervously with the cuffs of his leather jacket as he speaks. “I should be gone for about an hour and a half.” He swallows and licks his lips. “You’re free to do whatever you want in the tower as long as you don’t get hurt. If you need anything, ask JARVIS.”

Bucky stands with his hands behind his back and nods his head, his eyes darting around slightly. “Confirmed,” he says tensely.

Steve nods along too and tries to calm his nerves before turning to leave the tower.

Bucky should be fine, he wasn’t incompetent, and JARVIS would keep an eye on him. But this would be the first time he’d been left completely alone in the tower, and Steve desperately hopes that nothing goes wrong while he’s gone.

Inside his jacket, his journal with his updated list of triggers presses into his side as he swings himself onto his motorcycle and sets off towards the Manhattan VA centre. The wind from the ride tugs and pulls at his jacket and he very consciously tries to keep his mind on the road, and not on the tower slowly fading into the distance behind him.

His hands are sweaty by the time he arrives, and his chest feels uncomfortably tight as he parks and makes his way into the building, offering a strained smile to the receptionist as he signs in and sits down to wait to be called in.

He wipes his hands on his pants and fights to keep from tapping his foot against the floor.

It’s going to be fine, he thinks sharply at himself. You have nothing to worry about.

His journal presses into his side.

Jason smiles at him warmly as he ushers him inside and Steve tries to breathe in deeply as he sits down and sets the pillow on the floor beside him like last time.

“How have you been?” Jason asks as he settles himself in the opposite chair, his notepad in his lap.

Steve swallows and looks away. “I…” He’s not sure how to answer that. He’s had a few… incidents in the past week that weren’t so great, but he’s not sure if they are a big enough deal to bring up now and besides, generally he’s been fine. “I worked on your assignment,” he says finally.

Jason nods. “That’s good. What did you come up with?”

Steve reaches into his jacket, hating how his stomach swoops as he brings out his journal. “I wrote down a list,” he says, handing the book over to Jason. “The… the symptoms are first, and then the triggers are… are listed after.” 

Steve reminds himself to breathe and knots his hands together in his lap as Jason looks over his list.

“It seems you’ve put quite a lot of thought into this,” Jason says after a moment, looking up and giving him a smile. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about it?”

Steve mutely shakes his head and Jason lays the journal down on the table between them so that they can both see the text. Steve already has the whole thing memorised; he’d read it over often enough times while revising and updating it, but his eyes glance down to read it anyways.    

Symptoms and Triggers:

• Re-living the event: Nightmares, flashbacks
• Triggers: Fireworks, flashing lights, broken glass, burning wood, cold, Hydra, mud
• Hyperarousal: Irritation, over-exercising, over-working, anxiety, panic attacks, hyperawareness
• Triggers: Fireworks, Hydra, Nazism, helplessness, cold, politics, the war
• Avoidance: Over-working, focusing on others, over-exercising
• Triggers: Cold, helplessness, Hydra, anxiety, guilt, tiredness, the war
• Feeling worse about self and world:
• Triggers: Helplessness, (stupid) politics, tiredness

Jason taps on the words ‘focusing on others’. “I was wondering if you could tell me more about this one,” he says.

Steve sucks in a breath and slouches a little in his chair. “So that one…” He clears his throat. “That one, it’s not a new thing. Bucky used to always tell me I was too self-sacrificing for my own good…”

He turns his head to look out the window. “Even during the war, I… I usually tried to, help other people cope, try to take care of them first because…” He swallows and keeps his gaze pinned unseeingly on the window. “It’s easier to do that than think about the kinds of stuff I was going through.”

His gaze shifts back to Jason and he sees him nod. “That’s not uncommon,” he says gently. “People are often more willing to help others, than help themselves and… sometimes, it feels like, if we help enough people, it will somehow make up for how we’re feeling inside, make up for some past mistake or give us some peace of mind.”

A lump rises in Steve’s throat and he nods.

“Sometimes helping others can be helpful for us too,” Jason continues. “But it’s important to balance our needs with the needs of others. Ignoring your own needs or mental health in the favour of somebody else’s isn’t healthy, and in that case, it’s okay to take a step back and say, ‘I need a break’ or ‘I can’t do that right now’.”

 Jason lets that sink in for a moment before he shifts and crosses his legs under his notepad. “What do you think about that?” he asks.

Steve breathes in and crosses his legs as well, a part of him itching to reach down and grab onto the pillow that he’d discarded. “That… that makes sense in my head,” he says slowly. “But I don’t know how good I’d be at it in real life.”

Jason tilts his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I… it just… doesn’t feel like I can actually do that,” Steve says, his hands twisting together in his lap. “Like, even today, if I decided I ‘couldn’t do it’, there’s no one else in the tower who could take care of Bucky. All the other Avengers are on a mission right now.”

Jason nods seriously at that. “You’re right,” he says, “Sometimes we have responsibilities that we can’t ignore, but that’s why it’s important to stay in balance before those times, so that we’re able to handle the more difficult times.” He taps his pen against his paper. “Would you say you’re primarily the one taking care of Bucky right now?”

Steve nods. “He’s with me pretty much all the time. The only times he hasn’t been is when I’m here.”

Jason’s head bobs a little as he thinks and he writes something down on his pad. “I imagine that’s probably a lot of responsibility for you,” he says.

Steve swallows and looks away. “I don’t mind helping Bucky, I want to help him, but sometimes… it can be a little overwhelming.”

Jason offers him a small smile. “I’m sure it is,” he says softly. “And I’m sure you want to help Bucky as much as you can, but it’s important for you to stay mentally healthy too and spending all of your energy on Bucky won’t allow you to do that.”

He shifts a little in his seat and crosses his other leg. “I know the Avengers are gone right now, but do you think they would be willing to help you when they come back?”

Steve tilts his head as he thinks and shrugs. “Probably? They’ve already helped out with Bucky a little before.”

Jason smiles. “That’s good. It’s important for you to have a support system in place while you’re doing this.” He rests his elbow on the arm of his chair and leans forward. “What do you think about asking them to look after Bucky for a few hours a week, be it training in the gym or taking a walk or watching a movie with him, so that you can have some time to yourself?”

Steve rolls his shoulders uncomfortably and looks back to the windows as he thinks. “I… guess… I could at least ask them,” he says slowly. “See what they think.”

Jason nods along with him and gives him an encouraging smile. “If they aren’t willing or aren’t able to do that, then we can think of something else,” he says before shifting in his seat. “In the meantime, I wanted to ask you what you know about self-care.”

Steve leans back in his chair and tilts his head. “I’m… I don’t think I know much about that,” he says hesitatingly.

Jason’s eyes are warm, and he smiles gently. “That’s okay,” he says easily. “I wanted to talk to you about it because having the Avengers help you with Bucky is an aspect of self-care and that, along with other things, can help you stay balanced and in a good place to help both yourself and Bucky.”

Steve breaths in and relaxes into his chair. “Okay, so, I imagine self-care is… taking care of yourself.”

The skin around Jason’s eyes crinkles as he smiles and leans back. “In its most basic form, yes,” he says, before flipping his notebook over to a blank page and drawing a large circle.

“Self-care is different aspects of your life that, when kept in balance, help you be as healthy as possible,” he explains as he draws. “There are many different aspects and different coping strategies, but for today I think we’ll focus on a few basic ones.” Steve nods silently and watches as Jason starts dividing the circle into sixth. “Right now, I’m just drawing a ‘self-care circle’,” he explains. “To help us visualise what we’re talking about.”

He starts labeling the six sections. “In our self-care circle, I’m putting: Nutrition, Sleep, Exercise, Social Support, Hygiene and Relaxation,” he says as he writes. “There are, of course, other things we could add, but these are the basics.”

He turns the circle to Steve and starts to explain each aspect of the diagram. “Nutrition is our diet, it’s more than calories, it’s also the type of food and regularity that we eat,” he says, before pointing at the next wedge. “Sleep is more than just getting enough sleep, it’s about how often and how restful it is, and too much sleep isn’t good either. It’s all about balance.”

His finger moves to the next section. “Exercise is about balance too, too much or too little isn’t good.” He taps ‘Social Support’. “This is the people around us, how good they are for us and whether we reach out to them.”

His finger taps on ‘Hygiene’. “Hygiene is how we take care of our self and our environment. This includes caring for our self as well as cleanliness,” he explains before moving on to the last wedge. “And relaxation is our down time, what we do for fun, and whether we get sufficient alone time and rest.”

He looks up at Steve. “Everyone’s needs are different, so everyone’s self-care circles are different. Right now,” he lifts up the pad and offers it to Steve. “I want you to write a number in each of these categories, 1 being the worse, and 10 being the best, on how you think you’re doing on these aspects of your health.”

Steve takes the pen and paper and looks down at the circle, swallowing nervously.

“It’s okay if you’re not doing very well on them yet,” Jason says gently. “This exercise is only to help us know where to start.”

Steve nods and looks back down at the diagram.

Nutrition… he’s doing… better, now that he has Bucky to think about as well, but if he didn’t have Bucky then he probably would be worse off, and he thinks it’s probably important to be able to motivate himself to eat properly rather than do so as an unavoidable side-effect of helping someone else. He writes down a five.

Sleep, he almost laughs. That one is not going well most nights. He writes down a two.

Exercise… he already knows he has trouble with that one. He writes down a three.

For social support, he writes down a seven. The Avengers, Tony and Sam especially, have been very helpful to him, but it seems he’s going to have to reach out to them more.

At first, he doesn’t really think that hygiene is a problem for him, since he keeps both himself and his rooms clean easily enough, and he almost simply writes a nine and moves on, but then he remembers his most recent session in the gym and the spots of red that had dotted his hand wraps.

Hygiene apparently included how you took care of yourself. His mouth twists and he settles for a six.  

For relaxation… he taps his pen. He’s actually not very good at that right now. He spends most of his time working or taking care of Bucky. He writes down another two.

His cheeks heat slightly with embarrassment as he hands the pad back to Jason and sits in silence while the man reads over his work.

Once he’s finished Jason looks up and gives Steve a gentle smile. “Would you mind if I made a copy of this?” he asks. “That way we can both have one.”

Steve shakes his head and Jason gets up and leaves the room for a moment, coming back with a sheet of paper still warm from the printer.

“From what you’ve written down,” he says as he hands over Steve’s copy. “You seem to be having difficulty in most of these areas.”

Steve nods and sets the paper carefully on his lap.

Jason gives him another smile. “That’s okay,” he says easily. “We can work on that. I think if we can work on managing your PTSD symptoms, then these numbers will start balancing out.” He taps the self-care circle and Steve feels some of the tension in his stomach uncurl.

It’s… comforting knowing that there’s hope to get better.

“It’s not always going to be easy,” Jason cautions. “I like to think of improving your mental health and going to therapy as a lot like healing from an injury and going to physical therapy. There’s going to be days that hurt, and days where you’re exhausted afterwards and maybe would rather not go back because what you’re doing is hard work.”

He leans forward and gives Steve an intense but reassuring look. “As with healing from a physical injury, things take time and sometimes it feels as if nothing is getting better. But it’s important to keep going anyways, because in the end, things do get better.”

Steve nods solemnly at that. Although he heals from physical injuries quite quickly thanks to the serum, he can still appreciate the metaphor. “So… mental… illness, is similar to a physical injury?”

Jason gives him a pleased smile and sits back. “Exactly,” he says, before tapping Steve’s list of triggers and symptoms. “And the difficulties and triggers we have because of mental illness aren’t signs of weakness, they’re simply symptoms of a problem. Like pain receptors meant to warn us of an injury.”

He clasps his hands in his lap. “Of course, as with physical injuries, we sometimes don’t heal perfectly, or heal to be the same as we were before, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get better.”

Steve looks down at the self-care circle in his lap. “How do I do that?” he asks.

His question triggers an immediate smile on Jason’s face. “We’ll start by taking a look at these symptoms and triggers,” he says, gesturing to the journal laid out on the table. “There’s steps you can take to help manage them and keep them from getting overwhelming.”

He taps the words ‘focusing on others’ again. “We’ve already talked a little about what you can do here, and of course, we can continue to do so over our sessions.” He looks up at Steve. “But since our time is almost up, I wanted to leave you a few other tools to try for this.” His finger moves to the word ‘anxiety’ and he sits back.

“How does your anxiety affect you?” he asks.

oOo

Therapy really does take a lot out of you, Steve thinks tiredly as he returns to the tower and parks his bike in the underground garage. 

He and Jason had spent the remainder of his time talking about symptoms of anxiety (because apparently anxiety also has symptoms and triggers) and discussing various methods to handle it.

“These tools won’t necessarily completely stop or prevent your anxiety,” Jason had explained. But they will help you be able to recognise your symptoms and do something about them.”

Honestly anything that helps, even a little bit is welcome, because Steve’s current method of dealing with it is either, try to ignore it, or find some sort of mission or punching bag to focus on.

Seeing as how all three of those options are less desirable methods of coping, he’s going to have to figure something else out.

He’s busy going over Jason’s breathing recommendations and grounding techniques when the elevator interrupts him, the doors pulling open to reveal his front door. He shifts his journal to his other hand and feels a wave of relief flow through him as he opens the door to his rooms.

Despite what Jason says about balancing his time with Bucky, he still feels better knowing that he’s back in the tower, and that Bucky is no longer alone.

Although, if I need ‘alone time’, Bucky probably needs that too, right? he thinks as he enters, automatically wiping his feet and going to hang up his jacket.

It’s then when his mind kicks in and he freezes.

It’s too quiet.

He should be able to hear Bucky moving around in the living room, his breathing, something.  

His heart skips a beat before doubling in pace and his eyes dart around the small hallway, sweeping up towards the living room. “Bucky?” he calls, a wave of adrenalin shooting through him, making his hands sweat and the back of his neck prickle.

Silence greets him.

Chapter Text

Steve sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, very deliberately hanging his jacket on the hook on the wall before curling his fingers tightly around his journal and pressing his lips together. Okay, he thinks slowly, cycling another breath. Okay, just calm down for a second and think.

Looks like I’m going to be testing out Jason’s techniques a little sooner than I thought. Another part of his brain thinks sardonically.

Steve ignores that part and breathes in again, swallowing carefully. Okay, he thinks, opening his eyes. First things first, what is the problem?

“Try to pin-point what is triggering the anxiety,” Jason had said. “Sometimes there isn’t anything specific, but if you can find out what’s triggering you, it’s easier to figure out how to fix it.”

So. Problem. Bucky is gone.

No, his thoughts cut in, scolding him sharply. The problem is that Bucky didn’t respond to my call. Whether or not he’s gone is still to be determined. Steve pulls in another deep breath and tries to think about what he knows for sure.

“Often with anxiety, we catastrophize,” Jason had explained. “Our brain jumps to the worst possible conclusion and makes us panic. If we can pull back and examine those conclusions, it can be helpful in trying to lessen the symptoms.”  

Okay, so. He’d come in and hadn’t heard Bucky and had assumed that he’d left or something equally catastrophic had happened. But… JARVIS would have alerted him if something like that had happened right? He hadn’t mentioned anything during the elevator ride.

Steve can feel his body begin to shake microscopically as he makes his way into the living room, thanks to the adrenalin shooting through his system, but he’s less inclined to believe that Bucky has run away or managed to die in the last hour.

He could have decided to go somewhere else in the tower on his own, he reasons, his eyes sweeping the living room. That would be a good thing, meaning he’s willing to move by himself—

His gaze freezes on the half-open door leading to his bedroom, his ears picking up the very faint sound of somebody’s breathing from the other side.

Surprise and confusion flood through him as he slowly makes his way over to the door. He’d never told Bucky he couldn’t go in his room, but he hadn’t really expected his friend to actually work up the nerve to do so either. And it had to be Bucky in his room, right? JARVIS would have warned him about an intruder.

Even so, Steve clutches his journal tightly to his chest as he pushes the door open, almost holding his breath as he slips inside.

He’s met instantly by a deer-in-the-headlights look of pure fear.

Bucky’s head snaps up as he enters, his face pale and his eyes wide as he sits on the floor on the far side of the room, the closet door open next to him and a collection of papers spread out on the floor in front of him.

Steve’s mouth opens in surprise as he recognises the papers and the cardboard box sitting next to Bucky as Tony’s present, given to him almost a year ago on his birthday.

“Bucky—?” he starts, stepping forward only to halt again as Bucky flinches away, his back hitting the wall behind him and his arms raising jerkily as his breath stutters into overdrive, his entire body freezes as he stares open-mouthed and terrified at Steve.

Steve’s own breath catches painfully in his throat and his stomach somersaults unpleasantly at his friend’s abject terror. He closes his eyes and breathes in quietly through his nose before breathing out shakily through his mouth.

It’s okay, he thinks desperately as he cycles a few more breaths. It’s okay, I can do this, just… just breathe.

He opens his eyes to find Bucky’s gaze still on him, his friend seemingly doing his best to merge into the wall behind him. His chest heaving up and down in frantic, stifled breaths.

Steve breathes slowly and carefully sinks down into a crouch, his eyes never leaving Bucky. “Hey,” he says quietly, and a shiver runs through Bucky at his words. “I… I know you’re scared.” Steve swallows. “But you’re not in trouble. I’m not mad, no one’s going to hurt you.”

Bucky’s eyes dart around the room before landing on Steve again, his pupils wide and dilated.

“You’re not in trouble,” Steve repeats, crossing his legs under himself and sitting down, setting his journal aside and trying to keep his posture as open and relaxed as possible. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you’re not in trouble.”

Bucky’s fingers spasm slightly and he ducks his head, his shoulders pressing back into the wall behind him, the sound of his breathing and rapid heartbeat loud in Steve’s ears.

 Steve lets out a slow breath and tries to organise his thoughts into a plan. He needs to help Bucky calm down, then maybe they could get somewhere. His mind drifts back to Jason’s grounding techniques and inspiration dawns.

“Bucky,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “I need your help… can you find me something that’s blue? You helped me with the colours before, remember? Can you find something that’s blue?”

Bucky’s head stays motionless as his eyes dart around the room. It’s not exactly bursting with colour, and the only light is that of the sun coming through the window, but it should be enough…

“Blanket,” Bucky blurts out. His eyes landing on the cover of Steve’s bed and looking about two seconds away from scrambling underneath it himself.

“Good.” Steve nods, setting his hands palm up on his knees. “Can you find me something brown?”

They continue like that, Steve asking for a colour and Bucky responding, until Bucky’s breathing and heartbeat settle into a healthier rhythm and the odds of him forcing his way backwards into the wall fall to about zero. By then, Bucky is less tense, but shaky. His body crashing down from its most recent adrenalin rush.

Steve doesn’t feel much better honestly, but he also feels a warm flare of hope spring up in his chest as he looks over the scene in front of him.

Bucky had come into his room and gone through his stuff.

Bucky had chosen to come into his room and go through his stuff.

After days and days of walking around like a puppet without a string, Bucky had chosen to do something without being told, something that he’d thought he’d be punished for.

And that, in Steve’s opinion, is probably one of the bravest things he’s ever seen.

And he desperately doesn’t want to mess this up.

Moving practically at a glacier speed, Steve eases himself slightly closer to where Bucky’s crouched next to the collection of paper, his heart pounding away as he keeps his eye on Bucky’s hunched figure, searching for any sign that his actions will send him off again into another spiral of panic.

Bucky tenses as he nears and Steve pauses, holding his breath and keeping his legs crossed, his hands out in the open. “What were you looking at?” he asks, his own heartbeat speeding up along with Bucky’s at the question.

Bucky doesn’t so much freeze as… still, at the question. His entire being focusing on Steve and his seemingly innocent question.

Steve keeps his shoulders relaxed and speaks to a patch of wall to the left of Bucky’s huddled form. “I’m not mad,” he says conversationally. “You can look at it, I was just curious about what you found.”

Bucky continues to stare at him, his breaths measured and even as he mentally calculates his options. Steve feels himself settle into his cross-legged position, the world blurring slightly as he zones out, preparing to wait however long Bucky needs for this.

For this, his patience knows no bounds.

Eventually Bucky shifts and edges back towards the collection of paper fanned out on the floor, his eyes fixed intently on him as if watching a temperamental guard dog who might spring in to attack at any moment.

Steve remains completely still, his eyes the only thing that move as they drop down to look at the paper that Bucky hesitatingly nudges with one of his fingers.

It’s a picture taken of him during his training in Camp Lehigh, presumably from Howard’s file on the serum that had come with Tony’s present. The shot had been seemingly taken without his knowledge, his squinting gaze aimed off to the side, rather than focused in on the camera.

“You were… you wer’ small,” Bucky rasps quietly, his shoulders climbing up to his ears as he speaks and his face ducking down to hide behind the strands of his hair.

Steve nods mutely and once it’s clear no impending doom is about to fall, Bucky leans forward and brushes another picture with a shaking hand, this one a post-serum shot of Steve against a white background, numbers measuring his height running up along side him.

I remember that, Steve thinks as he waits for Bucky to get his thoughts together. That was right after Doctor Erskine died, they were trying to catalogue the serum’s effects.     

“Then you wer’ big,” Bucky manages finally, his fingers resting on the edge of the picture, his eyes coming up ever so briefly to meet with Steve’s.

How confusing would it be, Steve thinks suddenly, his eyes on his friend, to have memories of two different people, seemingly attached to the same person?

His eyes meet Bucky’s and he thinks that maybe, Bucky remembers more than he lets on.

Steve’s eyes drop down to the post-serum picture and he nods. “Yes,” he says quietly. “I was small.” He nods to the other image. “And then a war happened and… my friend got taken away to fight. And I couldn’t do anything because I was too small.”

He tears his gaze away from the faded photo and stares blankly at the wall next to Bucky, his hands coming up to twist in his lap. “Then a man came to me and told me he could give me a chance, a chance for me to go and fight instead of staying behind and waiting for my friend to— to die.”

Steve swallows and his eyes dart to Bucky’s before glancing away again. Bucky stares at him with the gaze of a starving man eyeing food through a store window.

“They gave me something, a serum,” Steve continues, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. “And then I wasn’t small, and I wasn’t sick…” His throat flexes and he swallows again. “And then I went to go fight and find my friend.” He looks up at Bucky. “And that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.”

A heavy silence falls on them after that, Bucky remaining crouched, ready to bolt should his actions suddenly be deemed unacceptable.

His eyes skim over Howard’s notes on the serum to another collection of photos, those of the Howling Commandos and— and Steve’s sketchbook, open to a page showing a sketch of Bucky sitting on the floor of a tent, his face narrowed in concentration as he reassembles his gun.

Bucky’s eyes dart up to meet his and skitter away again as he seemingly manages to grow even more tense, his entire body coiling in on itself as he opens and closes his mouth several times.

“I…” He flinches back slightly before his gaze seems to become pinned on a photo of the Commandos, their arms around each other’s shoulders in relaxed comradery.

“I…” He tries again and his voice drops into a whisper. “I— I knew you.” His eyes snap up to Steve’s, wide and cautious and full of an intense sort of defiance that Steve is beginning to recognise as something so supremely Bucky that it’s hard to breathe.

I know you, his eyes say, as Bucky clenches his jaw and waits for him to react. I know I know you, and I might not understand why, but you can’t take that away from me.

A lump rises in Steve’s throat and he draws in a shaky breath. “Yes,” he says brokenly, his eyes burning. “Yes, you do— you did.”

The rooms stills again, time almost warping as the seconds drip by. And then, Bucky nods once and suddenly time falls into place again, Steve becoming acutely aware at how hard his heart has been pounding against his ribcage.

He blinks and Bucky seems to slump slightly, looking about as tired as Steve feels which is impressive since Steve hasn’t been getting much sleep.

He flicks his eyes over Bucky’s tired expression and comes to the conclusion that whatever had been going to happen here, had happened, and that it’d probably be best if he lets them move on from whatever… this was.

He runs a hand through his hair, his movements monitored carefully as ever, and gives Bucky a half-smile. “I think…” He says slowly. “I think we could both use some tea. Why don’t you clean this up, and I’ll get something started.”

He keeps his movements slow and choreographed as he stands up, Bucky making no move to touch the papers spread on the floor until he’s about half-way out the door.

On his way back to the kitchen, Steve blows out a long steadying breath and can’t fight the giddy smile that breaks out over his face. His throat swells up tight with emotion and his hands shake slightly as he reaches the counter and leans over it, trying to catch his breath and blinking determinedly against the growing wetness behind his eyes.

He knows, of course, that this incident isn’t going to magically fix Bucky. He doubts very much that things are suddenly going to change drastically from what they’ve been for the last few weeks. But…

It’s something.

And right now, that’s enough.

oOo

When the Avengers return the next day, Steve is in Tony’s lab, introducing Bucky to Tony’s bots with the hope that having positive memories associated with the lab will help make Bucky more at ease the next time he has to go in for a check-up.

Once JARVIS announces the Avengers return though, they head up to the common room and Steve becomes aware of how tense he’s been, only when he relaxes fully upon seeing all of them return unharmed.

“We come bearing gifts,” Tony proclaims as he enters, lifting up the handle of a heavily bolted box, presumably containing Loki’s scepter. “Let’s hope Thor gets back soon, so we can get rid of this thing.”

“I’ll put it in lock down for you Sir,” JARVIS says by way of greeting and Tony looks all to happy to pass off the magical staff.

“Great,” he says, making his way around the crowd of Avengers currently spreading out through the common room and heading towards the elevator. “Hey Cap,” he says, patting Steve on his arm as he approaches. “How’ve you been?” His gaze jumps to where Bucky’s currently hiding behind Steve’s left shoulder.

“Terminator!” He smiles, leaning towards him but not quite meeting his eye. “How’re those meds treating ya?” Bucky’s eyes narrow and the skin of his forehead crinkles as he seems to debate how to respond to Tony’s exuberant manner.

Steve’s mouth twitches and he clasps Tony on the shoulder. “We’re good Tony,” he says, as he scans the man in front of him for any hidden injuries. “And you?”

Tony waves his hand. “Oh, you know me… Actually, I had a few ideas I wanted to try out while I was gone, so it’s good to be back.” He tries to pull away towards the elevator and Steve’s hand tightens on his shoulder just briefly enough to catch his attention.

“You sleep okay?” he asks, catching Tony’s eye. “From my experience it’s hit and miss on those quinjets.”

Something small seems to still in the whirlwind that is Tony Stark and he flashes Steve a brief but sincere smile. “Well enough,” he says quietly. “Better, now that I’m back.”

Steve nods and steps back, letting Tony pass and focusing back on the rest of the Avengers.

Tony disappears down to his lab to lock up the scepter and the rest of them work at unloading the quinjet. He has to hide a satisfied smile as he watches Bucky carry the boxes of equipment out of the jet with ease, knowing that while he would have done the task without complaint before, now he can do it without pain too.

Bucky had been on Tony and Bruce’s medication for a few days now, and it seemed to be working. Oh, he never said anything, but Steve had definitely seen him rotating his arm and shoulder as if testing out his mobility, a look of awe on his face, when he thought that Steve wasn’t looking.

Of course, the medication hopefully wouldn’t be the final solution to Bucky’s chronic pain, but it was at least a start.

By nighttime, the Avengers are all settled in and rested up, the group congregating in the common room to share pizza and catch up after the mission.

Bucky’s appointment with a dietitian isn’t for another few days, and as such Steve makes use of the common room kitchen to make their customary smoothie.

“Geez,” Tony comments as he comes over for a drink of water. “How many calories are you packing in there, Cap?”

“About two thousand,” Steve replies distractedly as he very carefully empties an ice tray into the blender. “Thanks to our metabolism, me and Bucky need a lot just to break even.”

Tony whistles and drinks down a gulp of water. “Have fun with that,” he says, setting his glass in the sink.

Yeah, no kidding, Steve thinks dryly as he screws on the blender lid and starts the machine. A super soldier’s metabolism isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be.   

Pushing his thoughts of how much he’d like to be able to eat a normal amount of food aside, Steve finishes up his smoothie and goes to join the other Avengers. Bucky takes his smoothie with bland acceptance and sticks to the edges of the room, not quite lurking but putting in a good effort.

Throughout the night, various Avengers drift closer to him and make quiet attempts at connection, never long enough to actually cause him any distress, but just enough to… plant the seeds, as it were, of some sort of bond.

It’s when he’s watching Natasha do nothing but simply stand next to Bucky when Steve realises that he’s now going to have to make good on his promise to Jason and ask the Avengers to watch over Bucky once and a while.

Tomorrow, he thinks determinedly while snagging another piece of pizza before Clint can claim it all. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.

And, he really does mean to, it’s just, by tomorrow it felt better to maybe wait until after he and Bucky had seen the dietitian, and then by then he felt he should wait long enough to establish Bucky’s new food regiment…

And then it’s three days until his next appointment with Jason and he still hasn’t spoken a word to anyone.

His journal, the copy of his self-care circle folded up and tucked inside, sits accusingly on his bedside table the next time he abruptly re-enters the land of the conscious, and he knows today he’ll have no choice but to do something about it.

It’s not like it’s really that hard, he thinks stubbornly as he prepares the morning smoothie, plus a bowl of oatmeal for both of them, a smaller one for Bucky. The doctor had said that since Bucky could chew, swallow and digest just fine, it wouldn’t be too much of a process to start introducing solids again.

Apparently, as long as they went slow, with small amounts at a time, just like introducing solids to a baby, then there shouldn’t be any complications. The doctor hadn’t seemed too worried since Bucky’s blood levels had been good (he also hadn’t seemed fazed by Bucky’s quiet terror around him, but maybe that just came with being a doctor), and Steve’s just glad that Hydra hadn’t permanently messed up Bucky’s digestive system. For his part, Bucky had been startled at the first offer of a few almonds, but now he seems amiable enough to eat whatever he’s offered.  

Of course, none of that really solves his current problem.

I’ll have to call them together and explain it all at once, he decides as he and Bucky start washing up the breakfast dishes. It will be less complicated that way.

Less complicated, but not exactly easier.

He has JARVIS call the Avengers up to the common room to talk, and asks Bucky to stay in his room when he goes up, feeling it would be too weird talking to the Avengers about this with Bucky hovering over his shoulder. When he arrives in the common room, Sam, Bruce and Natasha are already there, sitting on the couches in front of the TV and talking quietly as he settles in beside them.

“Hey Steve,” Sam says looking up from his conversation with Natasha. “Is everything alright?”

Steve tries to give him a reassuring smile and waves his hand. “No need to worry,” he says easily. “I just have something I needed to discuss with everyone.”

“Well, that sounds ominous,” Clint declares, gliding into the room and climbing over the back of the couch to plant himself next to Natasha. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t me.”

Sam chuckles and Natasha wacks the archer on the back of the head as the elevator doors to the common room swish open and Tony breezes through. “Wait, what did Clint do?” he asks confusedly as he sits down across from Steve.

Clint squawks in protest and ducks away from Natasha. “Nothing!” He insists. “I was just asking Cap what he called us all in for!”

Tony scoffs and leans back in his chair. “Oh, so now we definitely know you did something,” he says with a wave of his hand. Clint’s mouth drops open again in protest, but he closes it as Steve sits forward, ready to begin the meeting.

“This has nothing to do with anything Clint did,” he reassures and Clint folds his arms over his chest with a victorious look. “I actually…” he swallows. “I wanted to talk to you guys about Bucky.” Tony’s face tightens slightly at his admission and the other Avengers all stare at him quietly as he works on telling them what he needs.  

He’d already decided to leave out the fact that he’s calling this meeting on the recommendation of his therapist, since he doesn’t think he’s ready to admit that aspect of his life to the Avengers just yet (although, Sam and Tony already know, and it’s only a matter of time before Natasha finds out, so the sentiment is kind of pointless), but it’s not hard to explain how he feels that Bucky should get used to being around other people.

“So, I think it’d be good for both him and me, if we weren’t always together,” he finishes, looking around at the Avengers. “And I was hoping you guys might be willing to help with that.”

He fights to keep his shoulders from hunching at his request and his fingers tangle together in his lap. “It wouldn’t have to be anything complicated,” he reassures hastily. “Just something like spending an hour in the gym with him or watching a movie or something, just until Bucky is able to start doing things by himself.”

He happens to glance up at Sam at that moment, and the man’s face is practically glowing with pride from his spot on the other couch.

“Sounds good to me,” Clint speaks up suddenly, shrugging his shoulders. “Hey, I could teach him archery or something, that should keep him busy.” He looks over at Steve. “He doesn’t already know how to do that does he?”

Steve blinks a little in surprise, a warm feeling bubbling up in his chest. “No,” he says. “I don’t think Hydra ever taught him that.”

Clint’s face breaks out into a smile and Steve feels like smiling back.

“I’m sure we could all figure out something to do with Bucky while we’re here,” Sam speaks up and the other Avengers nod along with him, although Tony’s face still looks slightly tight and pale, and Steve feels a swell of uneasiness rise in his stomach at the sight.

“I’ll start the archery tomorrow,” Clint declares, rubbing his hands together and looking far more excited than Steve was expecting. “It’s always a treat to induct someone new into the art.”

Tony is unusually silent as the rest of the Avengers start dispersing and Steve realises suddenly that they’re going to need to talk right now. He hadn’t really— Tony was always so willing to help everyone, he’d offered the tower up, he’d offered his skills and knowledge… and Steve has a pretty good feeling that Tony would just keep giving and giving if he could, regardless of whether or not he actually had anything left to give.

Tony had already given so much, and now he was asking for more, without really thinking about what Tony was going through, because no matter how the engineer tried to brush it off and act like it was nothing, Bucky was probably a constant painful reminder of what had happened to his parents.

“Tony,” he says, as the billionaire gets up to leave the room. A look of surprise flickers over Tony’s face at his words and he turns back, flashing a half-smile at Bruce as the last of the Avengers file out of the room, leaving them alone.

“Need something Cap?” he asks flippantly and Steve’s eyes dart back and forth as he scans him, suddenly not sure how to approach the situation.

“I…” He swallows. “I… wanted to thank you for what you’ve done for me and Bucky,” he says, and Tony waves his hand, his face politely blank. “And,” Steve presses on. “I— you… I don’t want you to feel that you have to spend any more time with Bucky than… than you want to.”

Tony’s eyebrows dip down for a moment and Steve can already hear his upcoming denial before he opens his mouth.

“Tony,” he says firmly, giving the man a look from his seat on the couch.

Tony’s mouth twists and he rolls his eyes upwards as he runs a hand through his hair. “Oh, so we’re doing the emotion thing now are we?” he asks sardonically. Steve presses his lips together and continues to look at him silently before Tony lets out a sigh and comes closer to the couches, plopping down with a projected air of exasperation. He slouches against the cushions, lounging in a movement that looks practically calculated. “Not sure what exactly you want me to say,” he drawls after a moment.

He’s uncomfortable, Steve realises and his mind flashes back to Tony’s flippant manner that had been so absolutely grating when they’d first met on the Helicarrier. …things make a lot more sense now. “You don’t—” He swallows. “I just thought… we haven’t really talked about… this. Now that Bucky’s here.”

“And… that’s something we have to talk about?” Tony asks and Steve reminds himself to be patient. This conversation probably isn’t going to be easy for either of them.

“Tony,” he says again, thinking back to some of the things Jason had said to him about self-care. “I want to know what’s best for you right now. I know it can’t be easy—” Tony huffs dryly and slouches further on the couch, his hand twitching in a way that makes Steve think he’d rather be holding a glass of something right now.

“Still don’t see why we have to talk about it,” he says sullenly, his face turned away as he stares determinedly ahead of him. Steve stares at him, unsure how to proceed, he hadn’t seen Tony this closed off to him since before the invasion of New York.

“Because you’re my friend, Tony,” he says quietly.   

Tony’s eyes dart to his for a second before darting away just as quickly and he tenses, a flurry of emotions flashing over his face. “What do you want me to say Cap?” he bites out finally, his shoulders winding up tighter and tighter as he speaks. “I know what you’re gonna say.” He waves his hand vaguely. “I know what he means to you. I know what you think about it, but he killed my mom—” Tony cuts himself off and swallows, his face jerking away as his other hand clenches on the couch cushion.

Steve’s hands clasp together tightly in his lap and his throat flexes as he swallows, his eyes flickering slightly as he thinks. Obviously, Tony had come to this conversation with some preconceived ideas as to what it was going to contain.

I know what you think about it, he’d said. He seemed pretty certain that Steve was going to try to change his position on this, despite the fact that he hadn’t really implied anything of the kind. He scans Tony’s tense frame and a lightbulb dawns.

He feels guilty about being conflicted about Bucky, he realises, and he wonders how many times Tony had had this particular argument with himself before.

Beside him, Tony breathes in slowly, his eyes still focused distantly ahead. “And… and he was tortured,” he says quietly, bringing up the other side of the argument. “A lot.” Tony’s hand flexes and then relaxes slightly on the couch, and Steve stays silent as he waits for him to gather his thoughts.

“I mean,” Tony’s eyes are conflicted and unfocused as he speaks, his voice quiet and verging on vulnerable. “I mean, just looking at him, he—” His eyes flicker to Steve’s and he waves his hand as if to illustrate Bucky’s current state of being. “No one should have to live through that,” he says, his hand coming up unconsciously to rub at his arc reactor.

Steve swallows and nods, his thumbs rubbing over each other as silence falls over them. “But it’s still hard,” he says after a moment. I know what he means to you, Tony had said, as if that dictated how he was allowed to feel about this.  

Tony nods and looks away again, his fingers twisting over the fabric of the couch. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’m not— I’m not, exactly, mad at him… it’s just… hard not to think about what he did. What Hydra did.”

“I know,” Steve says intently, untangling his hands to rub them along his pants as he leans forward. “That’s what I mean. I don’t want you doing anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Tony huffs and ducks his head, a dry smile on his face. “Ah right,” he says, waving his hand. “Boundaries and all that jazz.”

“I’m serious, Tony,” Steve says. “You’re just as important.”

Tony opens his mouth to reply before pausing, stunned, his whole body frozen as he stares at Steve with a slack jaw. Steve feels a sudden wave of anger at whoever had managed to convince Tony that he somehow wasn’t important, that people could just take and take without giving back every once and a while. (Another part of him desperately desperately hopes that he hadn’t accidently perpetuated that belief.)

“Right. Okay.” Tony clears his throat and looks away, his hand rubbing against the couch cushion. “What did you have in mind?”

Steve opens his mouth and closes it again. “Well… I don’t know,” he says slowly. “It’d sort of be up to you. What ever you want. Obviously, you don’t have to spend more time than you want to with him. If you want, I can maybe get Bruce to take over looking after his arm and we could keep out of the common room—”

“Okay wait,” Tony cuts in, raising his hand and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “You can’t keep him locked up in your room just because I’m uncomfortable.” Steve goes to say something but Tony silences him with a gesture. “Just… just let me think for a second okay?”

Steve nods and settles back slightly as Tony tilts his head up, his eyes closed as he debates with himself. After a moment, he blinks open his eyes again and looks over at him.

“I’ll still look after his arm,” he says firmly, his hands completely still. “I can keep you or Bruce in the lab if I need…” He rubs his hands together and looks out towards the windows of the common room. “And I’ll have to get used to him eventually so there’s no point in staying out of the public parts of the tower, just…” He looks over at Steve. “Maybe no one-on-one adventures just yet.”

Steve nods along, his shoulders relaxing slightly at Tony’s words. “Yes, of course,” he says quickly. “And… and if that ever changes…any of it, you can always… do what you need.”

“Right,” Tony claps his hands together and stands up, shaking himself out dramatically. “Good, good talk.” He gives Steve a two-fingered exaggerated salute. “If there isn’t anything else, mon Capitaine?”

Steve’s mouth quirks up slightly and he shakes his head, catching on pretty quickly that they were now officially done with ‘the emotion thing’. “I’ll… I’ll see you around?” He doesn’t exactly intend to phrase it as a question, but it comes out that way anyway.

Tony’s eyes flicker over him for a moment and he gives him a small smile as he goes to turn away. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, of course.”            

oOo

Steve probably shouldn’t have been surprised at how willing the other Avengers were to help him with Bucky. For the first few times, a walk outside with Natasha or a trip to the library with Bruce, he sticks around in the background to try and smooth out the process and keep things from being overwhelming for Bucky, because of course, he knows that this is probably a little difficult for him.

For his part, Bucky seems tense at first, probably a little confused and cautious about suddenly spending so much time with the other Avengers (and away from Steve), but he very quickly seems to accept it as one of his new mission-related tasks and relaxes into the new routine.

Of course, with Bucky taken care of, Steve is suddenly left with a lot more time on his hands than he’s used to and he finds himself a little at loss for what to do with himself.

Before taking down Hydra, he’d spent his time working for SHIELD and plotting with Tony to infiltrate Hydra. When he wasn’t doing that, he’d mostly spent his time training or researching the last 70 years of history.

He hadn’t quite… realised just how much time he’d spent working until he had nothing to work for anymore. SHIELD was dismantled and for the time being he was effectively benched from chasing Hydra… He couldn’t even train as long as he wanted to because he tended to lose track of himself and go too hard by mistake.

The first day with no work to do, no mission to train for, and no Bucky to look after, Steve finds himself wandering around his rooms in a vain attempt to find something to do. His hands skim over the bookshelves in the living room, remembering how at one point, he’d tried to occupy his time by reading. Something that he’d enjoyed doing long before the war.

When had that stopped exactly?

He drifts over to his room and he finds the sketchbook and pencils that he’d gotten for his birthday stored away in the drawer of his desk, only the first few pages of the notebook containing anything worth mentioning.

That’s right. He’d meant to start drawing more too, hadn’t he? He used to draw all the time, but he hadn’t really, at least not much, since he’d woken up. His eyes sweep over to his closet where he knows Tony’s box sits on the top shelf, a collection of photos sitting inside that he had, at one point, intended to put inside a photo album. His fingers stroke over the cover of his sketchbook as he thinks, and after a moment, he looks up towards the ceiling.

“JARVIS?” he says carefully. “Can you help me look something up?”

Chapter Text

The annoying thing about getting better, is that it doesn’t happen all at once.

Asking the other Avengers to help look after Bucky had been an important step in Steve’s own mental health, but it doesn’t magically fix everything else.

Oh, it’s a start. With his newfound free time, he’s able to take on a project of his own, working furiously away during his downtime in hopes that he can get it finished by July. (He still has about a month to go, but he wants everything to be just right). But even with his gradual rediscovery of his personal interests Steve still has plenty of other issues to deal with.

His sleeping schedule for one. He at least makes an effort now, laying down to sleep every night, when before he sometimes wouldn’t even bother. (Although he has to admit, that improvement mostly has to do with the fact that Bucky sleeps in the other room, and Steve is determined to set a good example, regardless of whether or not he actually sleeps after turning in for the night).

Most nights, he spends his time tossing and turning, waking up every once and a while from one nightmare or another. Some nights he entirely gives up on fighting with the too soft mattress and drags all his bedding on to the floor to sleep there. He tries not to do that too often though. His door is still left slightly open every night, and he’s not sure how he’d explain himself if Bucky were ever to catch him sleeping on the floor.

It’s after one particularly restless night that Steve finds himself training in the gym, despite the fact that it’s Clint’s turn to look after Bucky for a bit, and the two of them are congregated together at the other end of the gym, gearing up to practice their archery.

Both of them had looked a little confused when Steve had marched into the gym that morning, probably wondering if he needed something, since he was interrupting their session. He hadn’t really been intending to interrupt them, his mind more focused on getting to the gym than on thinking about what was going to happen once he got there.

Clint and Bucky had seemed to shrug off his presence though, turning back to their own lessons after he gives them nothing but a nod and a wave before heading over to the punching bags.

As he wraps his hands in preparation for his upcoming round with the bags, Steve has to swallow back a small stab of guilt. He’s self-aware enough now to recognise that he’s turning to the bags as a way to avoid thinking about his difficulties sleeping, but at the moment he doesn’t exactly feel like doing anything about it.

I can make sure I don’t go too far, he thinks stubbornly as he lines up to take his first swing. It’s not illegal to punch a punching bag, and anyways, just because I’m not going on any missions right now doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep up my training.

Conscious fully placated, he gets to work on the punching bags.

He really does try to keep from zoning out and going too hard on the reinforced bags.

He does good for the first little bit, but constantly thinking about his performance only succeeds in making him more anxious and gives him an even stronger urge to just let loose on the bags. Eventually muscle memory kicks in and he sort of just… forgets to make sure to pace himself, and soon he’s beating on the bags with the same ferocity as usual.

He’s just stepping back from a long bout and winding up to take another swing when a sudden presence at his side makes him jolt back into awareness. His entire body flinches sideways as he whips around, only to come up short when he registers Bucky standing a few feet away from him, a plastic water bottle clasped tightly in his right hand.

Breathing heavily from his workout and slightly confused as to why Bucky is there, instead of over with Clint, Steve drags his hand across his brow and flicks his eyes over his friend. “Did you need something?” He asks as he catches his breath.

Bucky stands still for another moment before sweeping his right hand up and thrusting the water bottle in front of him like a shield. Steve’s brow furls slightly before he wipes his mouth and reaches forward to accept the water bottle, his mind a little thrown by his friend’s unexpected behaviour.  

“It’s important. To take breaks,” Bucky says stiffly as Steve takes the bottle, his words stilted and pointed, as if he were reciting a passage from a book and wanted to make sure he got all the words right.

Steve’s hand pauses with the water bottle halfway to his mouth and he scans his friend again, his mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.

In front of him, Bucky stares back, his shoulders tense and hunched slightly as if unsure of himself, but with eyes full of his familiar brand of determinedness, his chin jutting out stubbornly, as if daring Steve to challenge him on his assertion.

Steve swallows and nods a bit bewilderedly. “Yeah,” he rasps before finally taking a drink from the water bottle. “You’re right.”

Bucky’s shoulders relax and he gives a single satisfied nod before spinning on his heel and heading back to where Clint is standing next to an archery target and looking far too smug for his own good.

Steve takes another sip of water as he watches his friend go, a wave of baffled shock washing its way through his systems. His limbs are heavy and tired now that he’s stopped long enough for them to start complaining, and he allows himself to shakily make his way over to a bench off to the side before sitting down heavily, the bottle of water still in his hand and a feeling of wonderment in his chest.

oOo

“I’m glad Bucky seems to be making some progress,” Jason says in their next session. They’re now several sessions in now, and Jason’s hair is no longer in dreads like it had been when they first met, instead, it now sits loose on top of his head in a small afro. “I also think it admirable that you were able to recognise one of your unhealthy coping mechanisms in yourself,” he continues, catching Steve’s eye.  

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat and drops his gaze. “I didn’t actually stop doing it though,” he protests, crossing his feet and staring at the pillow that he’d once again placed on the floor. “I decided that it would be fine because I thought I could keep it from going too far… but, I think I kind of knew that that wouldn’t work out, I just didn’t really care.”

Jason points his pen at him. “That’s also an important thing to recognise,” he says, crossing his leg over his knee. “There’s things we can do to try to manage our symptoms, but only if we acknowledge that they’re actually there.” He flashes Steve a smile. “Some days are better than others. Don’t beat yourself up too much when you make a mistake.”

He shrugs his shoulders and leans back slightly. “It’s important to remember that the things that we do that may be unhealthy coping mechanisms are coping mechanisms nonetheless, things we developed when we found no other resources, and we’re bound to fall back on them as we slowly learn better coping mechanisms and work on dealing with some of the underlying causes for our symptoms.”

Jason lets him chew on that for a moment before clicking his pen once and looking down at his pad. “In your case, exercising in the gym isn’t necessarily bad, it’s just that you take it to an unhealthy extreme as a way to try and deal with how you’re feeling,” he looks up at Steve. “Would that be right?”

Steve’s mouth twists but he nods slowly. “Y—yeah, I guess.” He admits reluctantly.

Jason’s mouth quirks up. “The two ways we can deal with that,” he says. “Is try to limit the unhealthy behavior and address the underlying issues.” He tilts his head. “What have you done so far to try and avoid compulsively over-exercising?”

Steve’s lips press together, and he shifts again. “Well…” Not much, his brain supplies for him. “Sometimes… JARVIS tries to interrupt me, but usually I ignore him.”

Jason nods, and rests his chin on his hand, his elbow leaning against the armrest of his chair and his eyes distant as he thinks. “But you stopped last time, when Bucky was with you, and when Bucky came to give you the water bottle, yes?” Jason’s eyes flick up to him and Steve nods.

Jason hums in thought for a second before he sits back in his seat. “What if you set an alarm on your phone?” he asks. “A certain amount of time for working out before a break, and if you’ve hurt yourself, you have to stop.” He gives Steve a conspiratorial grin. “You can ask JARVIS to send Bucky down to intercept you if you decide to ignore your alarm.”  

Steve’s mouth twitches and he ducks his head as he smiles. “Yeah that might, that might work.” He agrees dryly.

Jason gives him a bright satisfied grin. “Good,” he says, writing down their plan on his notepad. “Let me know how it goes next week,” he says, putting his pad down again. “Now, as for dealing with the underlying causes, you told me you think it was triggered because you were having trouble sleeping?”

Steve cringes and looks away. “This time it was,” he admits, looking resolutely towards the window of the office. “It’s not always though.”

Unfortunately, Jason does not seem inclined to change the topic and continues on the same stream as before. “Was it the nightmares that kept you up?” he asks gently. “Or something else?”

Steve purses his lips and his hands twist in his lap. “I…” He trails off and continues to stare blankly out the window. “I just don’t… sleep very good,” he says finally. “The nightmares are… are bad and the bed’s too soft so…” He shrugs uncomfortably and finds he can’t quite look at Jason. “I sometimes sleep on the floor, but that isn’t really comfortable either.”

His chest feels tight and his heart seems to have taken it upon itself to beat it’s way out of his chest, which is rather annoying honestly because he has no reason to be nervous admitting this to Jason, but that doesn’t seem to stop him.

Jason hums again and leans his elbow on the arm of his chair. “You said the bed’s too soft?” he asks and Steve nods.

“After sleeping in cots and on the ground all the time during the war…” He shrugs again and looks down at his lap. “At first, I thought it was just me, but Sam mentioned he felt that way too…” His fingers twist together, and he rubs his thumb over the palm of his hand repetitively. “I’d hoped that maybe I’d get used to it eventually… but it feels like… it feels like I’m drowning in it sometimes—like I can’t breathe, and then, and then I sleep on the floor.”

Steve presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth and crosses his leg over his knee, squeezing them together in an attempt to release some of the tension growing in his body.

“Have you thought of getting a different mattress?” Jason asks. “A harder one? It might not fix everything, but it could help.”

His legs press together harder and Steve ducks his head. He hadn’t actually thought of that but— “No,” he bursts out. “No, I don’t think— I don’t think I can do that.”

Jason looks a little confused at his reaction and he uncrosses and re-crosses his legs before continuing.     “Why not?” he asks and Steve’s tongue curls up uncomfortably in his mouth, his fingers twisting rapidly in his lap.

“I just—” He presses his lips together. “I don’t—” His foot starts bouncing anxiously without his permission and he stares resolutely at the corner of Jason’s coffee table. “I’m… not sure,” he grinds out finally. “But I don’t… I don’t like that idea.”

“I can see that it seems to be upsetting you,” Jason says, causing Steve’s cheeks to flame red in embarrassment. “Do you know what upsets you so much?”

Steve shakes his head and fights the urge to curl his legs up onto the chair with him. “I don’t know, I just can’t.”

Jason chews on his lip for a second before shifting in his chair. “I just want to try something for a second Steve,” he says giving him a reassuring look. “We can stop if you want, but I’m hoping we can maybe figure out what’s bothering you.”

Steve hesitates for a second before nodding. “Okay,” he says, nodding his head and trying to relax as he looks up to Jason. “What did you want?”

Jason flashes him a smile and leans forward slightly. “I’m going to say something,” he says. “And I want you to explain the first thing that comes to mind, okay? You can close your eyes for this or keep them open, your choice.”

Steve sucks in a breath and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and trying to relax before giving Jason a nod.

“Okay,” Jason says, his voice sounding warm and reassuring. “What’s the first thing that comes to mind when I say: getting a new mattress?”

Steve’s shoulders tense and he scowls a little bit at his reaction before trying to focus on his thoughts. “It…” He opens his eyes and looks over at Jason. “It was a little confusing,” he admits. “I first kind of thought of a mall or like, a store, but then I thought about the flat I had when I was living with Bucky in the 40s.”

Jason nods and writes something on his notepad. “Have you ever gone mattress shopping before?” he asks after a moment.

Steve shakes his head. “No, I didn’t really buy the stuff I have now, and back in the 30s I just used my old one when I moved in with Bucky.” He shrugs. “A new mattress would have been too expensive anyways.”

Jason’s eyebrows tick down in thought and he tilts his head slightly. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Steve looks back towards the window. “Well, a new mattress was about 15 dollars,” he explains, his legs tensing slightly. “That’s more than a whole month’s rent.”

Jason lifts his chin for a second as he thinks before he looks back at Steve. “Steve…” He asks slowly, a thought beginning to take shape. “Is it the mattress that’s the problem, or is it buying a mattress?”

Steve’s head darts up. “I… I’m not sure,” he says, sounding like the idea had never occurred to him before.

Jason leans forward. “If, for the sake of the argument, you woke up one day, and found your mattress had suddenly been replaced, with no cost to you, would you be willing to keep it?”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it. “I think… I think yeah, I would,” he says after a moment.

“But you wouldn’t go out and buy yourself a mattress,” Jason presses, looking as if he was on to something.

“Well, no,” Steve says, waving his hand. “I already have a mattress. I don’t need to waste money to buy another one.”

 “But you can’t sleep on the one you have,” Jason says. “Why not get a new one then?”

“Because…” Steve squirms uncomfortably and bites the inside of his cheek. “Because—because it’s too expensive!” He bursts out, his stomach clenching.

Jason stares at him for a second and Steve looks away, his hands clenching in his lap. “When you say too expensive,” Jason asks gently. “Do you mean too expensive now, or when you were younger, in the 40s?”

Steve’s jaw flexes and he looks out the window, trying to even out his breaths. “I donno,” he says quietly. “It’s so hard to tell now. Everything looks so much more expensive now because of inflation.” His hands start twisting together in his lap again and he reaches down to pull the discarded pillow into his lap, clutching at it almost defensively.

“Seventy years of inflation is a lot,” Jason agrees, his eyes on Steve.

Steve nods, his gaze fixed on the windows, his fingers twisting the corner of the pillow as he speaks. “SHIELD explained it all to me when I woke up,” he says. “But it felt so wrong, seeing prices for things like—like a gallon of milk that would’ve cost about 50 cents before, but now…” Steve shrugs and his hands clench on the pillow. “It costs almost 3 dollars.”

He swallows and presses his lips together. He knows it sounds silly. Three dollars doesn’t sound like a lot, but it is, or it was, and it was hard to remember that 3-dollar milk wasn’t a lot when you were used to having to make nine dollars stretch out over a whole week.

“And you grew up during the Great Depression,” Jason cuts in, looking as though a light had dawned.

Steve nods, his throat feeling tight. “Yeah,” he says. “Couldn’t even afford things back then, and now it feels like I can’t risk it because—” He ducks his head and bites his lip, pulling the pillow closer.

Jason scratches his forehead for a second and shifts in his chair. “What’s your financial situation like right now?” he asks quietly. “Can you afford things?”

Steve scoffs and glares off towards Jason’s bookshelves. “I got a lotta backpay apparently,” he drawls. “I can still remember the day SHIELD showed me the figure in my bank account.” His hands twist the corner of the pillow and he shrugs. “It felt like a lot, until I saw how expensive everything is now.”

He slouches back in the chair and turns back towards the window. “It’s… frightening,” he admits. “What if I don’t have as much as I think I do? What if–” He lets go of the pillow for a second and waves his hand. “What if I spend too much because I can’t tell how expensive things are anymore?”

“That does sound stressful,” Jason agrees, before tilting his head and giving Steve a speculative look. “Have you tried budgeting out your money?” he asks. “To see if you can afford to buy things?”               

Steve hadn’t really, and Jason flips to a new page in his notebook. “We can try it now,” he says. “Just to give us something to picture.”

He draws out three columns, as Steve nods his assent, and marks them, ‘Expenses’, ‘Savings’, and ‘Earnings’ before handing the pad over to Steve. “Fill it out the best you can, for say, your average month,” he says. “It’s okay, if you can’t remember the exact numbers, you can do another one at home if you want to make it more accurate, this is just to start us off.”

Steve accepts the pad and pen and cracks a dry smile. “My memory is pretty much perfect, thanks to the serum,” he says wryly. “I should be able to remember the numbers.”  

Jason raises an eyebrow as though intrigued but keeps quiet as Steve writes.

To start with, Steve writes down his backpay in the ‘Savings’ category before moving on to ‘Earnings’ and ‘Expenses’. He’s a little shaky on whether his monthly income is courtesy of Tony or the government, now that SHIELD has been dismantled (and now that he thinks of it, that’s probably something he should look in to), but at least it’s steady. As for ‘Expenses’…

The number is almost embarrassingly small. His natural reluctance to spend money combined with Tony/JARVIS’ habit of ‘picking up the bill’ leaves him with a cost of living that is almost as much as what it had been back in the 40s.

He hands the paper back to Jason with a certain amount of self-consciousness bleeding through. He goes back to twisting the corners of the pillow while Jason reads through his work and finds he can’t quite look at him when he’s finished.

“It’s clear you don’t buy very much for yourself,” Jason says after a moment and Steve tries not to cringe. “Which is fine,” Jason continues. “I was just wondering about a few things.” He taps the page. “Like food for instance, you don’t seem to buy much of that.”

“Oh,” Steve shrugs. “Most of that’s provided for in the tower, and even if it wasn’t I don’t usually— ah, um…” He trails off because his brain had caught up to the end of his sentence and he hadn’t actually been planning on revealing that much today.

Jason waits patiently while Steve fiddles with the pillow. “I don’t, um… I don’t like to, uh.” He licks his lips and suddenly finds himself deeply interested in the brocade pattern of the pillow. He doesn’t actually really want to talk about this right now, but it’s too late to back out without Jason noticing, so he might as well continue.  “I find it hard to, um, to—uh— to buy enough food,” he finishes in a rush, his shoulders climbing up to his ears as he speaks.

Jason’s brow furls in concern and Steve looks away, staring intently at a point just to the right of Jason’s chair. “Is… is it because of the cost of food?” Jason asks quietly.

Steve swallows and rubs his thumb over the fabric of the pillow. “A little?” he says, shrugging uncomfortably. “It’s also just… it’s just.” He looks over to Jason. “I have to eat a lot of food.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve looks back down at his hands. “With… with the serum, I have to eat about eight thousand to ten thousand calories a day,” he explains. “That’s almost.” He looks back up at Jason. “That’s three thousand calories a meal.”

“That is a lot,” Jason agrees as he writes a note on his pad.

Steve nods emphatically. “It’s way more than I ever ate before and— and even during the war, I didn’t eat that much, coz of rations— and now I gotta buy food that costs an arm and a leg…” He shakes his head.

Jason looks back down at the budget that he’d made. “It’s true that that would be a lot of money,” he says. “But it looks like you can afford it.”

Steve shrugs away and shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe,” he concedes. “But it doesn’t feel that way. And anyway, eating that much food feels wrong.”

Jason looks at him carefully. “How many calories a day do you usually eat?” he asks.

“Oh.” Steve breathes in and waves his hand. “It’s better now,” he says. “Now that I gotta make sure Bucky eats, I usually get at least six thousand calories a day.”

Jason’s mouth quirks and he gives Steve what can only be described as A Look. “You seem to be more willing to improve yourself for other people than for yourself, Steve,” he says.

Steve’s cheeks heat and he ducks his head. “Yeah, probably,” he mumbles.

Jason shifts in his seat and writes something else on his pad. “Well, I’m glad you told me this,” he says. “And I can understand why it’s hard for you, but it’s important to eat enough food.”

Steve bites his lip and fiddles with the pillow. “I know it’s silly,” he says. “Freaking out over buying food but—”

“Steve,” Jason cuts in, a warm look in his eyes. “Growing up in poverty like you did, it’s completely natural for you to have some anxieties surrounding money now.” Steve’s lips press together, and he drops his gaze. “But,” Jason continues, shifting in his chair. “Looking at your budget here, you can afford to eat enough food, so together we’re going to work on that.”  

They spend the rest of the session discussing budgeting and eating strategies, ending with Jason turning to a fresh page in his notebook and drawing several more columns. “I know you’re worried about spending too much,” he says as he draws. “So, I thought we could try something else.”

He hands the pad over to Steve so that he can see the new columns marked with words like ‘Groceries’, ‘Emergencies’ and ‘Entertainment’.

“Budget yourself a certain amount of money every week for these things,” Jason says, as Steve looks over the pad. “If you want, write out all your other expenses so that you can be sure you can afford it, but,” he takes the pad back and taps the column marked ‘Entertainment’. “I especially want you to set aside a little money to spend on something you don’t need.”

He clicks his pen closed and offers Steve a smile. “By giving yourself a set amount to spend on things that aren’t necessities, you can make sure you don’t accidentally spend too much, without keeping yourself from enjoying yourself, does that make sense?”

Steve nods slowly and Jason sits forward and uncrosses his legs. “Just a reminder that food is a necessity,” he says, giving Steve another Look. “Work your budget around how much money you need to buy the food you need.”

Steve bites back a smile and looks down. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees, his mouth quirking up. “I guess fainting from low blood sugar is frowned upon nowadays.”

Jason snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yes, generally,” he says dryly, sitting back and clicking his pen. “So, this week, I want you to plan out a budget so you can eat and… I want you to buy something for yourself.”

“For myself?” Steve asks, his head darting up in surprise.

Jason nods, writing down the goal on his notepad. “It doesn’t have to be anything like a mattress,” he says. “And I would encourage you to bring someone along if you think that would make it easier for you, but I want you to buy something that you want, not need, and–” He looks up and gives him a knowing look. “It has to be for you, Steve, not a present for somebody else.”

oOo

Buy something for myself, Steve thinks, a few days later as he walks downtown, his eyes scanning the shops around him. Something that I want, not need.

It’s harder than he expected, trying to think of something that he wanted. Everything he thinks of sounds unnecessary (which, he supposes, is kind of the point), leaving him wandering the streets in a vain hope that something might catch his eye.

It’s a bit like being asked what you want for your birthday, he muses as he eyes the display of hand carved figurines in the storefront window of the shop next to him. You have all sorts of ideas until someone actually asks you what they are, and then suddenly you’ve never wanted something ever in your entire life.

After looking at the polished wood of the figurines for a few more minutes, he decides to go in. It can’t hurt, he thinks as he pulls open the door, the smell of pinewood and cinnamon washing over him.

If he had to think of a word to describe the little shop, Steve would probably have gone with Lumberjack. Not a gruff lumberjack though, more like a comfortable one, someone who liked to wear flannel and warm socks while they drank hot chocolate and carved little chess sets out of wood.

The whole store has a cozy vibe to it, with little knick knacks like bear snow globes, handmade soap and encouraging signs to hang on your wall. There’s clocks that look like birdhouses and hooks for your wall that look like butterflies and a whole section of the store dedicated to scarves and socks and other such things to keep yourself warm.

Steve is busy running his hand over the softest scarf he’s ever seen when his eye catches on a pair of slippers propped up in a box. They’re blue, with blue and grey plaid lining the inside, and a soft grey trim of faux fur that instantly makes the slippers some of the most comfortable things he’s ever seen.

He’s busy running his finger over the lining when he realises abruptly that these are something that he maybe actually wants. And they’d be useful too, he reasons as he continues to examine the slippers. I could keep them by the kitchen and put them on when I open the freezer, that way my feet won’t get cold and—

His eyes drop to the price tag.

Twenty-eight, ninety-five.

Almost thirty dollars.

Steve swallows and his hand pulls away from the slippers, his heart beginning to pound a little faster. Thirty dollars had been almost an entire month’s wages in the 40s.

He wipes his hand on his pants and tries to breathe in deeply, not particularly wanting to fall apart inside a random store. He knows he can afford it, he knows he can. But he doesn’t know if he can actually buy it.

A sudden ding from his pocket distracts him and he pulls out his phone to see a text from Tony. He opens it to find a picture of a textpost from some sort of social media site.

It reads:

Today, 2:16 pm

  [PTSD or "This one weird trick for coping with trauma.

Therapists hate it!"]

Steve’s brow arches at the textpost, his eyes flickering back and forth between it and Tony’s name in his contacts before his mouth very cautiously edges upward.

A few seconds later Tony sends another one.

Today, 2:17 pm

[my counselor: how are you doing?
me: good, how are you?
my counselor: good, so what brings you here today?
me: im doin real bad karen]

A snort forces its way out of his nose and Steve shakes his head, the curve of his mouth rising into a definite smile as he reads over the text again.

He had been wondering, since Tony hadn’t really mentioned it, if Tony had fulfilled his end of the bargain and gone to see some sort of therapist. Judging from the pictures he’d just sent him, Steve is willing to bet that yes, he had.

His eyes drag up to the slippers again before looking back down at his phone a few times, his hand tightening slightly around it as he clenches his jaw determinedly.

Something he wanted for himself indeed.

Making a mental note to find some sort of textpost to send back to Tony, since that seemed to be the protocol for this sort of thing, he turns to the shopkeeper. “Do… do you have these in size eleven?”

Chapter Text

Steve’s slippers find a home next to the entrance of his kitchen where he can slip them on every time he goes in to make a smoothie. He still can’t help the snatches of guilt that he feels when he thinks about their price, but at the same time, he also feels proud of himself for buying them, and every time he slips them on, he falls a little bit in love, so it’s okay.

He’s still in no way prepared to splurge on a mattress though.

Maybe I can save up for one, he thinks as he shuffles around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for himself and Bucky. I’m budgeting for everything else; I might as well add that to the list.

For breakfast he very carefully makes certain that he has all three thousand of his morning calories.

(And he hates it, that amount of food is still ridiculous and he’s beginning to think that he might have to talk to Jason about how it feels to go from being really small to really big in one fell swoop.) However, despite everything, simply knowing that Jason expects him to eat properly actually helps motivate him a little.

The alarm system for training in the gym is working rather well too. JARVIS had only had to call Bucky down once before Steve’s brain had clued in and started listening for his phone’s signal to take a break. It’s still hard to actually stop of course, but the threat of dragging Bucky down to the gym if he doesn’t is usually enough to convince him to step back and take a breather.

His sleep isn’t much better, but everywhere else he can see tiny improvements, something Jason is encouraging him to keep track of, for the days where he feels like nothing is getting better.

So, it stands to reason that just as he is beginning to feel like he’s progressing somewhere, Bucky’s own mood should take the opportunity to crash.

He hadn’t quite realised how responsive his friend had become until he starts becoming less so, looking more and more unfocused as the days go by, until he seems to have reverted back to his stockpile of one-word answers.

He reacts less to the things around him too, fading back into a statue like he’d been when he’d first arrived at the tower, needing more specific directions to complete various tasks and staring blankly ahead of himself when not being directly addressed.

The blank stare makes his stomach twist and Bucky’s sudden regression stresses the life out of him, especially since he can’t figure out why.

“Recovery isn’t linear,” Sam reassures him on the fourth day, when he comes to him with his concerns. “Sometimes, bad days happen. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and Bucky will come out the other side.”

Steve tries his best to keep that in mind, but there’s no point in pretending that Bucky’s mood doesn’t have an effect on his own emotional state and he finds his temperament plummeting along with Bucky’s.

He finds it harder to concentrate on the project he’d started, his mind instead using his free time to worry constantly over his friend and overthinking his own actions, searching for some kind of clue that could help Bucky. 

His sleep schedule becomes more erratic too and by the morning of the fifth day, he wakes up stressed and exhausted. By then he can’t spend another minute in the stifling air of his room where Bucky stands at attention and does nothing but wait for him, so he bypasses his own kitchen entirely and drags them both miserably into the common room kitchen for breakfast instead.

The common room is mostly empty this early in the morning, although Tony is seated at one end of the counter, a cup of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other.

He looks up as they enter and gives Steve a nod, which he tiredly returns before heading towards the fridge, Bucky settling himself quietly by the counter a few feet away from Tony.

He has no slippers up here in the common room and he scowls, his toes curling as he pulls out todays collection of frozen fruit and cold air from the freezer washing over him. He makes the smoothie and starts a pot of oatmeal in silence, trying not to let his bad mood leech out and start affecting everything around him.

It’s not Bucky’s fault, he reminds himself as he turns to serve the food. Being grumpy doesn’t help anyone.

Still, he finds himself mulling over his food, his appetite not very inclined to participate this morning. (Which is just great because that just makes it even harder to balance out his calories.)

He’s busy staring moodily at his smoothie when Tony stands up, heading toward the sink with his empty mug. Beside him, Bucky shivers, and if he’d been paying attention, he would have seen how Bucky’s eyes tracked Tony’s movements, showing more alertness than he had in days.

Instead he misses the way Bucky’s mouth opens and closes a few times, his hand tight on his glass. “Steve needs—” He almost bites his tongue as he jerks his head up and stares, Bucky’s words rushed and trembling, but oh so welcome.

 “Steve needs’a bed,” Bucky blurts out, his body shrinking in on himself as he speaks, but his eyes fixed determinedly on Tony’s frozen form. “He c’n’t sleep’on his.”

Tony’s eyes flicker between him and Bucky, and Steve’s whole brain stalls as he tries to process the first sentence his friend has spoken in days.

What? his brain stutters and he stares in shock. (Another part of his brain stands up and sings because Bucky had called him by name). But, Bucky had— he’d never expected— he hadn’t even known that Bucky knew he was having a hard time sleeping! And the fact that Bucky had taken it upon himself to speak up, let along ask for something, was mind-boggling.

“Steve?” Tony asks a little cautiously and slightly confusedly from his position by the sink. “Is that right?”

Steve’s mind snaps back into gear and he becomes suddenly aware of how pale Bucky looks and how fast his heart is beating, probably scared out of his mind now that he’s said his piece.

Steve’s first instinct since childhood has been to insist on his self-sufficiency. Bucky himself had complained endlessly that the first words out of Steve’s mouth were always ‘I’m fine’, regardless of what his actual situation was.

But now, looking at Bucky’s anxious face, he abruptly realises that that is not an option. If he downplays or avoids Tony’s question, Bucky will probably take it the wrong way, assuming that he’d done something wrong, or had made a mistake.

That, plus the fact that this is pretty much the first thing he’d said in days, leads Steve to wonder if Bucky’s silence had something to do with his statement. Obviously telling Tony about Steve’s sleeping arrangements had not been an easy choice for him to make, and whether he’d intended to or not, Bucky had effectively trapped Steve into giving an honest answer as a reply.

“Ah—” Steve swallows and looks over at Tony, his cheeks heating. “Ah, well, my bed’s kind of…” His shoulders start to tense up and his hands clench as he speaks, but he presses on. “It’s kind of… too soft for me, so— I have a hard time… sleeping on it.”     

Tony’s expression rapidly flies through disbelief, confusion and a touch of indignation before settling on exasperated. “Well why didn’t you say something?” he replies before waving his hand and rambling off on different types of beds and how they could get him a new one right away and ‘all you had to do was ask Rogers’.

Across from him, Bucky starts to relax, a glitter of something bright in his eye and the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

oOo

Steve’s new bed arrives with little additional fanfare, and while it might be the placebo effect, he thinks that it might even help, at least a little.

He’s not naïve enough to think that switching out beds will completely cure him of his nightmares or restless nights, but now, every time he looks at it, he can remember how Bucky had facilitated its arrival.

The dilemma around telling someone about Steve’s sleeping situation seems to have been the cause for Bucky’s most recent bout of silence, since once he’s done the deed and no disastrous consequences had made themselves directly apparent, he goes back to his quiet but attentive self.

A day or two after the arrival of the bed, Steve wanders down to the labs, letting himself in and watching fondly while Tony buzzes around the place, muttering various equations and observations under his breath.

After a while he happens to glance up and a smile flashes across his face when he spots him. “Hiya, Cap,” he says, lifting up his goggles and waving a screwdriver. “How’s the bed treating you?”

Steve’s mouth quirks up and he pushes himself off the bench he’d been leaning on, making his way over to Tony and his cluster of holograms.

“Well enough,” he says amiably. “What are you working on?”

And with that, Tony is off again, his mouth running a mile a minute as he waves his hands at various holograms.

And maybe that’s the nice thing about Tony, you knew he cared, he cared enough to manhandle Steve into a new bed and ask after it, but he’s also completely willing to drop the topic and move on to less emotionally rocky territory.

It’s actually quite amazing, Steve realises upon reflection, just how far Tony had been willing to reach while trying to drag him back up from the hole that he’d fallen into after waking up from the war.

Tony might not like emotional situations, and he might not think that he was any good at them. But no one could ever say that he didn’t care.

So, when Tony casually mentions that he’d found a doctor somewhere that was willing to try and remove his arc reactor (a Doctor Strange… or a strange doctor, one of the two), his voice as light as if they were discussing the weather, Steve doesn’t ask him if he’s sure, and he doesn’t congratulate him.

Instead he simply asks, “How’re you going to power your suit afterwards?”

And suddenly Tony is relaxed and rambling again about suit designs and repulsors, before somehow following a train of thought that leads him to planning out Steve’s upcoming birthday (no fireworks), leaving Steve to smile and listen while Tony spins the universe around him.

oOo

With Bucky and Tony both relatively safe and stable, Steve goes back to working on his project.

He works on it whenever he gets a free minute which is usually when one of the other Avengers takes Bucky off for some sort of activity (the time when Sam had taught Bucky to make pancakes had been… memorable).

As he works, Steve can’t help thinking back over the last year and how much things have changed. Oh, certainly there had been less than pleasant things that had come up. He’d spent most of the last year working undercover in a terrorist organisation, only to blow them and his other job out of the sky a few months ago.

He’d found Bucky again, and been forced to stand by while he was used as a tool for far too long.

But he’d also been able to be there to watch Bucky grow, watch as he slowly came out of his shell and grew past the creature that Hydra had tried to beat him into.

He’d watched himself grow as well and had seen his relationship with the Avengers twist and evolve. What could have been simply a business relationship had become… well, had become a family.

And things are better.

They are better in Natasha and Clint’s trusting of JARVIS to protect them inside the tower. They are better in Bruce’s long-winded science talks with Tony and in Tony’s declaration of his plans to remove the arc reactor. They are better with Sam’s addition to the group, and hopefully, one day with Thor’s return.

Of course, Steve knows that there will still be bad days. Days were Tony shuts himself down in the lab and Natasha stares blankly over her coffee cup and Clint disappears into the vents without a word to anyone. There will be days were Steve can’t sleep and Bucky won’t look anyone in the eye…

They still have plenty that they need to work on, and they still have plenty of Hydra heads to cut down.

But there will always be better days.

And that’s what his project is about.

oOo

He’d originally started his project when he had first been faced with his newfound free time, thanks to the Avengers’ involvement with Bucky. Before then, free time had been something he’d consciously and unconsciously avoided, since it often led to thinking too much…

But now, he tried to use it to encourage himself to get back into doing things that he used to enjoy. Originally, when he’d first started his project, he’d only been intending to sharpen up his skills and reintroduce his fingers to his art after having neglected it for so long.

That plus the fact that the Avengers had given him a sketchbook for his birthday, and he hadn’t wanted to waste that, despite how intimidating the fresh white pages could be sometimes.

He’d started with Tony first before moving on to the rest of the Avengers, doing his best to get each sketch to come out the way he wanted. It had been difficult at first, and sometimes discouraging, but he’d soon found that the driving urge he’d carried with him since he’d been a child to draw had not been lost to him in the ice.

When he was younger, the need to etch things out on paper had often felt like an all-consuming itch under his skin, a need that drove him to sketch and draw whenever he had the chance. After he’d woken up though… he hadn’t really felt the urge to do anything, and any art that he’d been able to create had felt flat and empty, leaving him feeling like maybe he just… didn’t have that spark anymore.

That obviously wasn’t the case though, and he’s beginning to understand that his melancholy probably had something to do with his own PTSD. Either way, he’d been able to finish his project in time and he’d had JARVIS order frames for each picture so that on the eve of his birthday, almost one year after the Avengers had given him his paper and pencils in the first place, he can start delivering them.

With JARVIS’ help, he slips his way through the tower, feeling almost like Santa Clause as he drops off the framed pictures to where the intended recipients will be able to find them and admire them for themselves.

Tony’s, he slips into the lab, JARVIS assuring him that the resident genius is out for the night with Pepper. It isn’t a large frame, about the size of his sketchbook, and Steve stands it up to sit on Tony’s work bench, where he’s sure to see.

DUM-E whirls over to see and Steve smiles gently at him. “That’s you,” he tells him, pointing to the picture. More accurately, it’s a picture of Tony, his head bent over a piece of tech, his face bright and animated, with his robots surrounding him like a crowd of excited children as he explains to them the intricacies of a repulsor engine.

Natasha’s picture he slips just inside her door, JARVIS consenting to unlock her room just long enough for him to get his arm through. Her picture shows her seated on the couch, her hair hanging lose by her face as she bends over her feet, a nail polish brush held delicately in her hand.

For Clint, he settles the picture next to his bow in the gym’s equipment room, the image of Clint crouched with his hand out, staring intently at a pigeon bringing a smile to his face.

JARVIS lets him slip inside Bruce’s room, the scientist currently busy reading in the common room upstairs. The inside of Bruce’s room is a mix of scientific papers and experiments and cozy reading chairs next to overstuffed bookshelves on the walls.

Steve sets his picture on the kitchen counter—a shot of Bruce in his reading glasses, seated in the common room with a well-worn book in his lap—before slipping out again.

Sam’s picture gets placed in his gym locker, where he’s sure to see it after his morning work out. The scene he’d chosen for this one is one of Sam standing in the kitchen over a pot on the stove, a spoon in one hand and a cookbook in the other, an intense look of concentration on his face.

He’d drawn one for Thor as well, for when the god got back. A picture of Thor sitting in the middle of a dog park, talking amiably with nearly every dog in the vicinity.

Bucky’s picture…

Bucky’s picture he sets gently on top of his dresser.

It’s a simple scene, just Bucky standing in the common room, his face calm and thoughtful as he looks outside the window, the sun from the window lighting up his face and reflects gently off the metal of his left arm.

Steve had chosen this picture very carefully.

Actually, all of the scenes that he had drawn had been strategically chosen. They were all quiet, intimate moments from the Avengers lives that showed the person behind the mask, none of them fighting or training or posing in their suits. And Bucky’s picture is the Bucky of now, rather than the Bucky that Steve had lost nearly 70 years before.

That is the most important part. It isn’t about masks or suits of armor; it’s about the people that had taken Steve in, and given him a home.

Stepping back and smiling, satisfied at a job well done, he slips back into his room to lay down on his new bed.

Tomorrow, America will wake up and start celebrating his birthday, but he won’t be there. Tomorrow Captain America has accepted not one single invitation to come and speak, neither has he accepted a single interview or phone call.

Tomorrow, his friends will have found his little presents and Tony will have a birthday planned guaranteed to involve hilarious mishaps with his friends turned family, and absolutely no fireworks at all.

Tomorrow, Steve thinks as he settles down under his blanket, will be a good day.

The End