Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Other Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Nick Fury
Additional Tags and Warnings: Work In Progress, Warnings May Change, trigger warning: suicide, Trigger warning: strangulation, Trigger warning: internalized homophobia, trigger warning: homophobia, trigger warning: internalized intersexphobia, trigger warning: intersexphobia, violence, intersex!Steve, Intersex, Action & Romance, winter soldier - Freeform, post - Avengers Movie, Eastern Europe

When they'd broken down the door, they'd found two Hydra guards behind it. They'd been easy enough to take out and were now unconscious, gagged, and tied up securely. When Bucky — or the man who appeared to be Bucky — finished triple checking their restraints he spun round and strode past Steve to the control desk. Steve tensed up.

Clint had said the Winter Soldier was sold off by the Soviets after the fall of the U.S.S.R. . Maybe he was now the property of Hydra. Even if he was Bucky, the story about him escaping from Lukin... all that wasn't necessarily true. Maybe his mission had been to deliver Steve to Hydra. He had to stop thinking of him as Bucky — Tony was right.

"Do you think there's any more of 'em?" Steve asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

"Doubt it," the Winter Soldier replied. "This base isn't currently in use. Some guards might try to get in come shift change, but they might just decide to skip work, what with S.H.I.E.L.D. crawling around the mountain. Also, I blew up the main access shaft."

Definitely Bucky's face. Definitely his voice. Steve tried to decide if it was even possible that he was under some kind of mind control when everything about Bucky seemed so real. If it was mind control, he had to give the Winter Soldier some credit, it was a perfect illusion. This was the future though, how did he know for sure that this level of mind control wasn't possible? Thor and Loki had come to Earth, aliens had invaded — could he really afford to dismiss that someone was tricking him into believing Bucky was still alive?

"Can we have more light in here?" Steve asked.

The Winter Soldier flicked some switches on the control panel. "Done."

If you were able to create the illusion in someone's mind that you were a loved one, then the story of not being able to remember anything about your life together was incredibly convenient, wasn't it? He reached for his dog tags through the fabric of his shirt.

"Where's the med bay? We need to see to your arm," Steve asked. If he could sedate the Winter Soldier, contact S.H.I.E.L.D., and hand him over alive, then maybe this mess could be cleared up before Hydra showed up and tried to take samples of his blood.

"My arm wouldn't need fixing if you hadn't decided Ironman—"

Steve cut him off by holding his hands up placatingly. "I'm sorry you got shot."

"Oh, Captain America's 'sorry', so everything's fine, right?" the Winter Soldier grumbled. "Asshole."

Inside here, in this underground complex, was probably the best opportunity he'd get to tackle the Winter Soldier. Outside he might've made a run for it and he might've lost him, but in here there were only so many places he could hide if Steve's plans went south. And S.H.I.E.L.D. probably had the mountainside under surveillance by now and was guarding every other exit.

They were able to find a med bay of some kind — or maybe it was a torture chamber. It reminded Steve of the kind of room he'd found Bucky in when Hydra had held him prisoner and experimented on him. He eyed the Winter Soldier, but their surroundings didn't seem to be stirring any memories in him that he could tell. Surely Bucky would've reacted to the room?

It took a while before the water came through the taps and longer still to start running clear. During that time Steve rummaged around in the drawers. There were plenty of syringes and needles still in their plastic wrappers and for once in his life he was glad that everything was written in German — if it had been in the local language (which he was starting to suspect was likely Albanian) he'd have been completely lost.

"I've found some bandages and a sewing kit. What're you lookin' for?" the Winter Soldier asked.

"Somethin' for the pain. This might hurt."

The Winter Soldier snorted. "I'm used to pain."

Ah, morphine, that would do the trick. The vials were tiny. That meant you were supposed to use the entire vial up, right? He'd have to inject the morphine into muscle, rather than directly into the bloodstream, so it wouldn't be as potent. Two vials should knock out the Winter Soldier. 'Should' being the word that was making Steve's throat constrict. The labels gave no indication on the dosage and he knew an overdose would be deadly. Suddenly he was a whole lot less sure about this great plan of his, because if this was Bucky... well, if he was Bucky, this was still the best course of action, he told himself. They were surrounded; they had no way of escaping. Sooner or later S.H.I.E.L.D. would storm this base, and they'd already showed that they'd shoot Bucky the moment they saw him. If Bucky was conscious when they stormed the base he'd die in a hail of bullets.

"Problem?" The Winter Soldier was looking over his shoulder.

"I can't read German," he lied.

The assassin inspected one of the vials. "I'd rather not." He tossed it back into the drawer and slammed it shut. Steve still had a couple of vials in his hand and a syringe ready to fill. He looked over his shoulder — the Winter Soldier was washing his hands. It was easy to fill the syringe with two vials worth; it would be a lot harder to inject his 'patient'. He placed the syringe out of sight. The Winter Soldier had unstrapped the shield and tucked it into a corner; now he was sitting down in a chair and so Steve got on his knees next to him so the assassin wouldn't need to angle his arm in an awkward way while he cleaned it.

"Thanks, Steve." Buck— the Winter Soldier's voice was tight and his eyes closed. As Steve pulled the needle through the hot flesh the Winter Soldier clenched his jaw against the pain. This was his chance to get that syringe, before his resolve failed him. He quickly grabbed it and was back stitching the wound tight within a couple of seconds.

"Just needed some more gauze," Steve explained.

He clenched his jaw and held his breath while he slipped the syringe into position under and behind the Winter Soldier's arm to keep it out of sight, in case he did open his eyes.

"Last stitch. This might sting a little," he said and pulled the previous stitch tight quickly so it would hurt and used that moment to inject the morphine into the Winter Soldier's arm right by the wound. "Careful now." He kept a tight grip on the wounded arm as he pulled the needle out and placed it on the floor behind him.

"Was it necessary to make it that painful?" the assassin asked, grimacing.

"Yeah, but the pain won't last long."

As Steve slowly wrapped the wound he was reminded of similar situations during the war, out in the field, when they'd quickly had to tend to each other's injuries. He'd always made sure he was the one to care for Bucky's if he could. The Winter Soldier leant back in the chair breathing heavily for a few minutes. Eventually he used his metal arm to heave himself upright, but he started to keel over and Steve had to steady him with both arms. Their faces were close and the Winter Soldier looked at him, but his gaze seemed unfocused — clearly the morphine was already kicking in. Should it be working so quickly? Maybe he had injected him with far too much. Steve felt the cold touch of metal fingers at the nape of his neck as he was pulled flush against the other man.

"In the warehouse, when I kissed you," the assassin said, "it made me remember some things. Like... holding you in my arms in bed. We were small, you especially. Your back was pressed against my chest. I was scared. Was concentrating on your breathing."

All efforts to think of him as the Winter Soldier rather than Bucky were in vain now, Steve knew. "Yeah, we didn't have heat in the winter and I'd often get ill."

Steve's heart was beating hard in his chest, painfully so. Doctor Khan wouldn't have released him early if she'd known he'd be running around Europe rather than resting in bed, he thought.

"You did that for me too," Bucky continued, his voice quieter now. "In a tent. You held me an' I felt safe in your arms."

Steve nodded. A lump was forming in his throat and tears pricked his eyes. God damnit, what had he just done? He should've thought of some other way, a better alternative to the morphine...

"You got injured. During the war," Steve said as he tightened his arms around Bucky in a hug, steadying him further. "The wound was infected and we needed to get you some penicillin, but we were hundreds of miles behind enemy lines."

"I remembered another time too. I came home drunk," Bucky whispered. Tears fell from Steve's eyes at the word 'home' — he bit down on his lip trying to retain some semblance of control over his emotions. Bucky laid his head on Steve's shoulder. "I stumbled around our apartment tryin' to get my shirt off. You helped me in the end. I climbed into bed next to you an' held you tight. You didn't protest or push me away although my breath I must've reeked of alcohol and my hair of cigarette smoke."

Steve swallowed. "Yeah, you used to do that sometimes."

"I remember kissin' you. An' I wanna remember more... ."

Hooking an arm under Bucky's left shoulder he maneuvered him onto a bed in the far corner of the room. He collapsed onto the floor next to it as he watched Bucky roll over and fall asleep. The sight left Steve gasping for air and wiping the tears from his face. What had he done? If he'd given Bucky an overdose he'd never forgive himself.

Once he'd taken a few deep breaths to calm himself and clear his mind he put a hand to Bucky's neck to check his pulse. At that moment the door creaked behind him.

"Und wer sind Sie? Hände wo Ich sie sehen kann!"

Since the man had a gun pointed at him Steve did as he was told and slowly raised his hands above his head, though he didn't answer the question about who he was straight away. The man's uniform marked him as a Hydra officer and clearly he was German — so not locally hired muscle like the guards, Steve thought: the guards hadn't spoken German, at least not when they'd called out to each other.

"Ein Freund. Heil Hydra," Steve replied eventually not knowing for sure if the Hydra of the future had a similar protocol to the Hydra of his time, where it was common to identifying yourself as 'friend'. Steve knew he wouldn't pass for a Kraut, of course, but he didn't need to. He just needed to convince the man he wasn't the enemy and considering the man had stopped to ask questions first, rather than shooting him on sight, his chances were probably good. If the fate of the guards had been known to the Hydra officer he would've just shot both of them already.

"Identifikazion?" the officer prompted, taking a step closer.

Steve shook his head, but carefully indicated with his head towards Bucky's still form. If the Winter Soldier was as notorious as Clint had made him out to be, then maybe this man would recognize the metal arm and the markings on it. He had several stories ready, depending on how the German reacted to the Winter Soldier. Including the story that was his fist in the man's face.

The officer's eyes went wide and he shifted his aim from Steve to Bucky.

Not what Steve had wanted. "The Winter Soldier works for Hydra now," he explained in his accented German. "I'm American, but I'm Hydra. S.H.I.E.L.D. captured the Winter Soldier. I freed him."

"Tell me in English what happened here. I don't have all day time to wait that you explain the situation to me in German," the officer replied in passable English — it was more fluent than Steve's spoken German at any rate.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has the whole mountain surrounded, sir. They'll storm the base any minute. With all due respect, there's simply no time for detailed explanations. We have to get the Winter Soldier out of here now or he'll fall into their hands."

"Yes, I noticed S.H.I.E.L.D. — and the Avengers too. A bit much just to attack a deserted base, we thought, which is why I was sent here to activate the self-destruct sequence. We have five minutes and counting. It makes sense now though." He nodded his head towards Bucky. "But how do I know you're not one of them?"

Self-destruct...? Of course he shouldn't be surprised that they'd rigged the whole base with dynamite after Bucky had blown up the entrance tunnel. It changed things though. He couldn't take out this guy and then wait for S.H.I.E.L.D. to rescue him and Bucky.

"If S.H.I.E.L.D. could get in, they'd be all over this base right now," Steve answered. "I'm with the Winter Soldier. Can you get us out of here or not?" The officer's eyes narrowed and Steve made a guess at what he was thinking. "Once more meaning no disrespect, sir, but you need me to carry him. He's heavy."

The man nodded curtly. "Okay. Pick him up and follow me. We leave the way I arrived. One wrong move and I shoot you dead, understand that."

"Yes, sir."

Before he lifted Bucky up over one of his shoulders he checked his pulse again. While it seemed slow, it was there and he was breathing steadily, although each breath was shallow.

The officer turned to him with thin lips. "Quick! This place blows up soon."

He didn't dare even glance towards the nook his shield was resting in and if he hadn't needed to carry Bucky and Hydra agents didn't have a habit of killing themselves with cyanide capsules hidden in their teeth, he'd have made at least an attempt to disarm the officer and force him to lead them to safety. As it was though... he'd have to sacrifice the shield. Steve gritted his teeth and followed the man through a maze of corridors until they reached a rusty steel elevator that took them deep down into the mountain. When it finally hit the ground the air was hot and rank.

"An old mine shaft that was extended to a nearby village," the officer explained. Above the boom of explosions echoed in the elevator shaft and he felt the vibrations through the soles of his shoes. The officer led the way with a powerful flashlight. Steve had to duck, as the ceiling was low. It put additional strain on his muscles to walk like that while carrying Bucky, so by the time they'd been walking about five minutes he was already drenched in sweat.

"You are not tiring already, donkey?" the man asked.

Steve felt a flash of anger, but he suppressed it. Not important, he told himself. Getting Bucky to safety, that's all that mattered.

They reached a trap door that led into the cellar of what appeared to be a busy eating establishment. The Hydra officer had the place cleared out before Steve brought Bucky upstairs. When he'd laid him onto one of the benches in the tavern Bucky stirred a little and Steve swore it was due to the smell of the food. Some things never changed, Steve thought with a small smile on his lips.

The officer was on the phone and talking to people — in German, thankfully, so Steve listened in. He might not be able to speak fluently in German himself, but he understood every word that was said. It seemed S.H.I.E.L.D. had their hands full with the mountain complex blowing up on them, so he was being advised to simply get in his car and drive to some place where other Hydra agents would meet him. Steve could either knock him out, take his car and drive towards the mountain to attract S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention, or he could drive in the opposite direction and get away from S.H.I.E.L.D. . Bucky's breathing and pulse was steady, he didn't need S.H.I.E.L.D.'s doctors. What would happen to Bucky at S.H.I.E.L.D.?

They'd help him get his memories back, they'd deprogram him and they'd be able to live together in Brooklyn. That's if Ulanov didn't get Bucky or him killed. And since Ulanov was the one who had the expertise to deprogram Bucky... even if he entertained the idea that Ulanov wouldn't be a problem... without Ulanov's help, how long would it take S.H.I.E.L.D. to get rid of the command he'd planted? Bucky might spend months locked up in a high security cell with people prodding around in his mind, experimenting on him and who knew what else. The thought of that tore at Steve's heart and he knew then that he couldn't do it — he couldn't deliver Bucky into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. There had to be a way to break the programming, since Bucky hadn't killed him yet. And he could attempt to persuade Bucky to turn himself in, but he wouldn't, couldn't be the one to take away Bucky's freedom or risk his life. No, he'd take care of Bucky himself.

Four hours later somewhere in Serbia

If Steve wasn't too preoccupied with trying to pry a metal hand off his neck he might have reflected on his life choices. As it was, all he could concentrate on was the burning in his oxygen starved lungs. He jerked his hips, trying to dislodge Bucky who was straddling him and pinning him to the ground, but the grip on his neck only tightened in response. Grey spots were appearing at the edges of his vision, his hearing was already gone and as his sense of where up and down was failed him he distantly realized that he'd stopped struggling.

When he came to again he was in the same spot as before: his shoulder blades were digging into the hard ground and the Milky Way was bright in the sky overhead. The sound of the car's motor still running let him know that he likely hadn't been out for more than a minute or two.

"Steve?" It sounded like Bucky was a couple of yards away from him. He looked around and spotted him leaning against a road sign.

"I'm okay," he replied hoarsely.

"You need to leave or I'll kill you. Get far away from me."

"You'll kill me right now?"

"No, but next time. Maybe tomorrow or next week... . I'm too dangerous."

Steve lay back down on the ground and closed his eyes. The road-side grass rustled as Bucky strode towards him and sat down next to him.

"Tell me what happened," Bucky said.

Steve considered whether it was a good idea or not to tell him about the morphine, but in the end he told him the whole story — including his reasons for not handing him over to S.H.I.E.L.D. . When he'd finished talking he felt Bucky's fingers brush his wrist.

"Why haven't you killed me yet?" Steve asked, his voice quiet and matter of fact. Bucky's fingers were stroking his now, but the question hung unanswered in the cool night air between them. "You know why I haven't — and won't — hand you over to S.H.I.E.L.D. . There's a reason why you haven't killed me, Bucky. And all I need to know is if there's any chance of that reason fading from your mind in the near future. Cause if not, I'm gonna stick by you and help you as much as I can."

Bucky entangled their fingers and squeezed tight. "Okay then. Get up. Where're we anyway?"

"I think we're in Yugoslavia now. I avoided the marked border crossings from Albania, got us into Yugoslavia on back roads, but I didn't know... well, there was another border crossing. I turned around, found another route, but they might've contacted S.H.I.E.L.D. ."

"Yugoslavia ain't one country anymore. And that car's gotta have a bunch of Hydra trackers in it, so we're being followed for sure. How far are we from Belgrade?"

"400 kilometers. We're almost out of gas though."

Bucky shrugged. "Need to get rid of the car anyway."

Steve looked up at the stars. "Don't suppose there's any chance of a hot meal in the near future?"

They ditched the car, kept off the roads and walked for hours until sunrise. Then they started searching for a suitable place to camp and soon came across a hunting hut that seemed to be unoccupied. Bucky effortlessly snapped the padlock on the door with his metal fingers.

"I'll get a fire going—" Steve began.

"And I'll go get us some food," Bucky cut in, unsheathing a knife.

Steve simply nodded and stepped further into the hut, ostensibly to look for a lighter, but the truth was that he didn't want to risk being near Bucky — although the knife likely wasn't meant for him this time. Once Bucky had left, Steve collapsed into a small wooden chair in the corner of the hut and massaged his neck. It would bruise, he knew, even if the bruises would be faint and would heal quickly. He told himself he'd get up again and light that fire, but this wasn't an emergency situation, they weren't in the midst of an operation or a battle, so his body had other thoughts and moments later he was asleep.

He awoke to find a thin woolen blanket around his shoulders and the smell of cooked meat in the air.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," Bucky said handing him a glass of water. "Boiled it, so it's still warm."

"Thanks. Sorry 'bout falling asleep." He could tell his voice still sounded a bit hoarse.

"You needed rest. Here, eat something quick. We gotta keep moving."

Steve didn't need telling twice, he wolfed down a small bowl full of hare meat and followed it with another glass of water. There hadn't been much of use in the hut, apart from the blanket, so they took that with them and continued their trek.

"We're not robbing a bank when I have a perfectly good bank card in my pocket," Steve protested.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is probably tracking that account," Bucky shot back. "And besides, bank's closed."

"And they won't check out a safe that's been smashed open with an iron fist?"

"I was gonna be a bit more subtle than that. I know how to get past alarm systems. We'll likely have at least 'til the morning before the theft's reported."

Steve nodded curtly. "Fine. I'll stay here on lookout. Be quick."

Steve stood in a dark, narrow alleyway and looked out from the cover of darkness into the street. He could see the bank on the opposite side of the road clearly. It was the middle of the night and the streets in this more residential part of the town were deserted, but you never knew... he watched the bank's windows for any signs of Bucky. He told himself he'd get S.H.I.E.L.D. to take care of the damages once this whole episode was over.

After a couple of minutes he heard the faint sound of a Quinjet. Damn. He leapt across the road and tapped the bank's door. Nothing. He tapped again. Then the door slid to one side and Bucky dashed out. He'd bundled up something in the blanket they'd taken from the hunter's hut, so presumably he'd gotten them some cash.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. are close, they're coming right for us," Steve said, grabbing Bucky and dragging him back into the alleyway he'd been in earlier. "Maybe you set off a silent alarm?"

"No, I didn't. How'd they get a Quinjet to us that quick anyway? They must've been on our heels way before we entered the town."

"Then how do they know we're here?"

"I took out all the bugs they'd fitted into my arm before we got to Europe. But... "

"But what?" The sound of the jet's engines were getting louder.

"My arm. It's got some high spec Soviet space technology in it. Installed in the late 80s. It's possible that with Doctor Ulanov's help they were able to... somehow use that to find our location."

Steve stared as his arm. "Shit."

"Help me take it off." He handed Steve a knife and raised his metal arm up high. It didn't take long for him to detach it in part from his body, but some cables and tubes still connected it in places. "Use the knife." Bucky closed his eyes and looked away. Each wire Steve cut caused Bucky to wince, but when it came to the largest one Bucky let out a pained yelp. Steve didn't want to think about how painful that cut had to have been for Bucky to cry out like that. He laid the metal arm on the ground carefully, telling himself that Bucky would get it back again... when all this was over — and he wondered how many more times this night he'd have to make use of that phrase to coax himself into doing something he absolutely did not want to do.

They bolted down the alleyway away from the bank (and the arm), heading instead towards the town center. Music was blearing loudly from some sort of bar and Bucky dragged them into it. Immediately they were the center of attention.

"Dobro veče!" Bucky said.

"Is there a language you don't speak?"

Bucky ignored him and continued talking. Steve wasn't sure how much threatening exactly was involved, but people started stripping off various items of clothing from jackets to jeans and handing them to Steve. At the end Bucky threw a wad of cash at them and motioned for Steve to follow him through to the back and into the bar's toilets. They washed their hands and faces and changed into the clean clothes. Steve turned his back on Bucky when he changed his pants. He wasn't sure how much Bucky remembered, and he'd rather not have to talk about the pair of socks in his underwear.

"How do I look?" Bucky asked, a cocky grin on his face.

There was no hiding that Bucky was now one armed, but they were less recognizable than before and would be able to walk around town without drawing everyone's attention. Without the kohl around his eyes, in civilian clothes, and wearing that expression, he looked exactly like the Bucky Barnes he'd known. Steve didn't lean forward to plant a kiss on his lips, as he might have done in the past and suddenly it felt awkward not to kiss him.

"You look good," he said simply, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. "Let's get outta here."

They hotwired a car and drove until they reached Belgrade.

"Well, team, how about finding all of you here?" Tony said in the darkness of the alleyway. They'd all been assigned to help out on different S.H. .D. teams, but Natasha had called them all together for an Avengers-only meeting.

Natasha picked up the metal arm. "What if it's not mind control? What if it really is James Barnes?"

"How can he still be alive?" Tony argued back, grabbing the arm. Natasha didn't let go of it and so he let her have it.

"Yasha is Russian for James. I only knew him as the Winter Solider, but the man I knew... he was a good man. When I last saw him in the late 90s he still believed the KPSS were in power. I don't think they knew how he'd react if he found out they weren't, so we were all under strict instructions to keep our mouths shut on the matter. The Red Room first started working with him in the 40s, but he was kept in stasis between missions. If Cap says he's James Barnes, then I believe him."

"Cap doesn't know what he's talking about right now!" Tony shot back. "He's walking around with a man who's trying to kill him."

Clint narrowed his eyes. "Assuming Cap's alive. The Winter Soldier might've decided his usefulness as a hostage had come to an end. Hulk's still sifting through the wreckage of that mountain base."

"Nah, Clint," Tony replied. "He was so whipped. Why would you kill your own personal super soldier body guard? Cap's useful to him."

"Promise me you won't harm Yasha."

Tony shook his head. "Natasha, if he's endangering Cap's life I don't care if he's Bucky Barnes, J. F. K. or the Queen of England — I'm going to do what's necessary to keep Cap safe. And so should you."

"I'm with Tony on this one," Clint said. "Even if we are dealing with someone who used to be Bucky Barnes, right now he's not that person, we don't know if there's anything of that person still left after the Red Room treatment. I mean, he shot at Cap!"

"You two are being willfully obtuse now. I've said my part. Here Stark, you can have the arm. Keep it safe."