Summary:

To say Steve is surprised to wake up haunting his loved ones after sinking his plane into the ocean would be an understatement. To say he enjoys it would be just plain cruel.

For starters, there's the 'minor' problem of said loved ones being unable to see or hear him, which is bad enough. Things only get worse when he finds out Bucky is alive, but held prisoner by the very people he and Steve had fought against, leaving Steve to watch as HYDRA slowly tries to unmake his best friend. Then there's Tony, Howard's genius son, whom Steve loves dearly and may or may not be a little protective of after watching him grow up under Howard's less-than-stellar care.

Steve doesn't know if they keep him sane or drive him crazy, but he does know that Bucky and Tony are the two most important people in his world. He also doesn't know if it would make his life easier if they knew each other or not, but it doesn't matter; they've never met, are on opposite sides of the world, and other than being cared about by Steve, have nothing else to do with each other.

Until Tony is kidnapped by the Ten Rings…and HYDRA thaws Bucky for a mission…
And Steve decides it's about time these two met.

Trigger Warnings:

Implied major character death, brainwashing, non-graphic descriptions of torture and brainwashing, minor character death, canonical character death(s), depression, bad childhoods, canon-typical violence.

AN: This was written for the 2015 WinterIron Bang over on tumblr. Believe it or not, it started as a minibang that should have only been around 7K words...*cough*

Most of the warnings are due to Bucky's time as the Winter Soldier and/or Tony's time in the Afghanistan, including the minor and canonical character deaths. These poor boys have lived tough lives. Also, though this takes place mostly around Iron Man 1, this contains spoilers for later movies as well.

This story would not be what it is without my awesome beta, so a very special thanks and a thousand hugs and kisses to followthemuze. (That one paragraph. *shudders*.)

Be sure to check out the link on my profile to see the awesome art that goes with the story by the very talented fannishminded! :D

~The Road Less Traveled at the End of the Line~

Chapter 1

Staring down at his body, Steve knows he should feel something. Afraid, hurt, angry, sad, hysterical, something. Instead, as he watches the ice slowly freeze around him - or at least, the him that is lying down on the floor of the plane, cold, motionless, and no longer breathing - he feels...nothing.

He knows, instinctually, that he's watching his final moments. That he's dying, or, given his current predicament, probably already dead, but rather than feel panicked, or scared, or any of the thousands of things someone should be feeling while they watch themselves die, he just feels an eerie sort of calm.

After all, he's done what he's set out to do, what he'd had to. He's brought the plane down, saved lives, made a difference. In the end, that's all that matters.

Besides, at least now he'll get to see Bucky again.

Standing in the middle of a briefing room back at base, Steve can't help but feel angry at the universe and whatever celestial powers that run it.

This is wrong, all wrong. He is dead, he knows he's dead. He's supposed to be with his mother and Bucky again, not, not this. Not standing amongst the somber Howling Commandos back at base, invisible and unheard, and watching Howard Stark try to soothe Peggy as she cries softly into her hands.

Howard, too, looks like he wants to cry, even as he tries to fight it. Most of the Commandos don't bother - Gabe is swiping at his eyes futilely, and Dum-Dum has his hat off, turning it over and over again in his hands as if his life depends on it. Even gruff, unflappable Col. Phillips is clearly affected, standing slightly off to the side and making eye-contact with no one.

Standing amongst them, taking in their grief, their sorrow...it is wrong, it is heartbreaking, and it is just too much. Steve is the reason for their pain, and feels like a voyeur in their grief. He doesn't belong here.

"Aw, Peggy..." he whispers softly, bending down right in front of her and reaching out, a wave of guilt churning deeply in his belly for putting her through this. He stops short of actually touching her, remembering what happened when he'd first woken up in this form. He'd found himself in the control room of the same HYDRA camp he'd taken off from, confused and disoriented, with a very distraught Peggy. When it became apparent that she couldn't hear or see him he'd tried to touch her, and if realizing she couldn't see or hear him had hurt, realizing he couldn't even comfort her with a touch had been, well.

It had been a terrible feeling, and he isn't up to repeating it.

Grimacing and shaking himself out of the memory, he watches as Peggy hiccups softly, drying her tears on the handkerchief Howard had given her. She glances up, and because of where Steve is crouched it's as if, just for a second, she is staring right into his eyes.

His heart clenches painfully, a slow, hopeful yearning building in his chest - only to pummel when the moment is broken by Peggy standing abruptly, moving right through him, and scanning the room for Phillips.

"We need, we need to go over what we found." she says, her voice only wavering slightly. Steve feels a surge of pride and affection towards her. "We should, he wouldn't have wanted -" She gulps, takes a deep breath, and graces the room with a stern look, letting everyone know they are currently faced with Agent Carter of the SSR, not Captain America's grieving sweetheart. "Steve wouldn't have wanted us to waste the opportunity. He wouldn't want us to put everything on hold for him. We owe him that."

There is a quiet murmur that carries through the room as everyone starts talking quietly, either to agree with Peggy or comment on the details of the mission, interspaced with soft words of comfort to each other. Steve watches, again feeling like an interloper. Everyone is trying set aside their grief and misery, determined to do their part and distract themselves from the pain...

Everyone except for Howard, standing quietly off to the side, staring into space with red-rimmed eyes.

Frowning, Steve makes a mental note to keep a special eye on him. After all (and he couldn't help but feel both guilty and bitter for thinking it), it isn't like he has anything better to do.

Steve honestly doesn't know where he goes or what he does when he isn't hanging around Peggy, Howard, or the Commandos. He just...wasn't, and then suddenly he'd come to awareness and find himself around one or more of his old companions. Peggy, Howard, the Commandos; Colonel Phillips, once or twice, and once even the kind, elderly woman who used to live next-door to him and Bucky.

At first Steve didn't know why he'd appear when he did. He was still feeling pretty distraught over the whole dead-and-haunting-the-world-of-the-living thing, after all, so he figured he could be excused for being a little slow on the uptake. But after observing them for a little while during his visits, he'd come to the slightly unpleasant and uncomfortable conclusion that he seemed to be heavy on the mind of whomever he was visiting. And somehow, that was drawing him to them.

The realization makes him feel even more guilty, because as time passed, his visits hadn't been getting more infrequent - especially in Howard and Peggy's cases.

Not that Steve even knows for sure how much time has passed; as it is, it's hard for him to really keep track, though he thinks it's been at least a few weeks since he'd sent his plane into the ocean. He isn't really sure, it could have easily been months or longer, and it's hard to tell with the...blackouts, as he is starting to call the phases of missed time he's experiencing.

He supposes it doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Days, months, years...they all blend together, and he is quickly discovering time is a fickle thing when you're dead.

He thinks he should probably find that more worrying than he does, but he has more pressing concerns.

Like being stuck haunting your old war buddies and sweetheart. And trying not to go crazy while watching said sweetheart and war buddies grieve, while one war buddy in particular seemed to run himself into the ground in his own particular brand of not letting things go.

Which brings Steve back to his current surroundings, watching Howard argue over the phone with someone about yet another likely fruitless trip out to where he thinks Steve's plane might have gone down.

Sighing and leaning against the oak desk Howard keeps in his study (two things that in Steve's opinion threw all logic out the window; he no longer even has a body to breathe with, and thinks it supremely unfair that he can apparently touch furniture but not people), Steve wonders yet again why Howard of all people is still taking this so hard.

Not that Steve hadn't been a little touched by Howard's dedication, at first. But what had started out as determination was rapidly becoming an obsession, and as much as Steve hates to admit it, it is all for nothing anyway. Steve is dead, and has been for some time now.

With that thought in mind, Steve looks down at the newspaper Howard had left out on the desk. He feels a little jolt go through him when he realizes it has been much longer than he originally estimated - months longer. His mouth goes dry. It's been nearly a year.

Which made Howard's fanatic endeavor of searching for Steve that much more sad and frustrating. Howard has to know Steve is gone, and finding the plane with Steve's body in it at this point is going to do nothing but bring fresh hurt to Peggy and the others, not to mention Howard himself.

Feeling overwhelmed, Steve closes his eyes, trying to block out Howard's shouting. Experience told him it was probably going to be a while, so he's surprised when it gets quiet. When he opens his eyes he discovers it's because he's no longer in Howard's plush study.

Instead, he finds himself in a sterile, unfamiliar room with strange equipment piled on sleek metal shelves and against the walls. It smells like disinfectant, and when Steve takes a step back to better survey the room he sees several men in white coats looming around something on a metal table in the middle of the room. It almost reminds Steve of some of the sadder, more desperate hospitals from the war, but he still hesitates to call it an infirmary. A laboratory, maybe?

He takes another step closer to where the men with white coats are loitering, and realizes they are staring down at a man on the table. He starts wondering if the place is after all an infirmary, but the way the men are talking to each other with a sort of clinical detachment still makes him think otherwise.

He doesn't like it. It sets him on edge, and he still doesn't know why he's here.

Then there's a scream from the man on the table, and everything inside Steve freezes stone cold. In that moment he's certain that if he still had a heart beating in his chest, it would have stopped right then and there, because he knows that scream. It had haunted his nightmares when he'd still been alive, nightmares about what had been the worst moments of Steve's life: when Bucky had fallen from Zola's train. Sure, freezing to death had been horrible, but frankly, dying had hurt less than the gut-wrenching, stabbing pain he'd felt in his chest when that metal had broken and his oldest friend had fallen. Bucky's scream would haunt him to the end of - and now, apparently, beyond - his days.

That memory and the pain it brings come to Steve in sharp focus, yet it's nothing compared to the terrible mix of emotions he feels as he finds himself staring at Bucky - his best friend, his brother, his Bucky - strapped down in the gurney before him, howling in obvious pain and very much alive.

Immeasurable joy surges through him, because Bucky is alive, but it's quickly squashed down by alarm and horror because something is very, very wrong.

For one, Bucky's screams are even worse than the one Steve remembers.

Steve surges forward - to do what, he doesn't know - and gets a better look at Bucky and the men around him. What he sees makes him sick.

Bucky is strapped down to the table, mostly naked, with thick, shackle-like metal digging into his exposed skin. Even so, he's still fighting against them, and some of the white-coated men have to hold him down to keep him from moving as other men put needles in him, press something to his left shoulder, where - oh Jesus, where Bucky's arm used to be. All the while, Bucky screams and cries out, and everything in Steve shatters into a million pieces when he realizes one of the things Bucky is crying is Steve's name.

"Get away from him!" Steve yells, furious, lunging forward to shove at one of the men holding Bucky down. He goes right through him, of course he goes right through him, he knew he would, but Steve tries again anyway, swinging and snarling and shouting, because he can't not do anything when they're still hurting Bucky. He doesn't stop trying to fight them until Bucky stops screaming.

Frantic, Steve shoves through another scientist until he's by Bucky's head, staring into his friend's eyes, which are glazed over with pain and whatever drugs the men were pumping into him. He's still mostly conscious, though, and lets out a whimper when one of the lab coats twists the metal-something on his shoulder. His breath is hitching and his cheeks are wet. Steve knows his are, too, and it's all he can do to not break down right along with Bucky.

"I've got you," Steve whispers, leaning forward until his forehead is nearly touching Bucky's. Bucky's eyes drift over as though they are meeting Steve's, and even though he knows Bucky can't actually see or hear him, he still feels a jolt.

"I'm here, and I'm with you 'til the end of the line." He feels helpless. There's nothing he can do, but…

"I'm going to get you out of here, Bucky." he vows. He doesn't know how, but he will. "I promise."

After that day Steve ends up spending most of his time with Bucky, though he doesn't know if it's because he now knows Bucky is alive or if it's because Bucky is thinking about him more. The fact that Bucky seems mostly out of it makes Steve think the former, which leads to Steve discovering that, if he concentrates hard enough, he can actually choose whom he visits. It's not much, and he still can find himself in someone else's presence without ever having thought of them, but it does mean he can choose to be with Bucky when Howard is too drunk or angry to be good company, or when being around Peggy is just too painful.

Not that being with Bucky isn't painful. The tortures that Bucky is being submitted to are agonizing to watch, and more often than not Steve finds himself hunched over or near Bucky with tears in his eyes and clogging his throat, whispering unheard words of comfort while listening to Bucky's whimpers.

Steve honestly didn't know if it is worse or better when they put Bucky in the cryochamber, either. On the one hand, the HYDRA technicians aren't poking and prodding at Bucky while he screams in pain. On the other hand, the cryochamber is a sick, twisted parody of a shelf to place unneeded tools on, sucking away even more of Bucky's ever-shrinking humanity every time they place him in it, like a project they could save for later. Either way he looks at it, Steve wouldn't wish the cold, harsh confines of the cryochamber on anyone but the HYDRA scientists that made it.

Yet even that cruelty dwindles in comparison to the mind-wipe. Bucky's screams during the process, as well as the blank, dead-eyed stare he gets afterward is a horror Steve had never imagined could be inflicted on a human.

Bucky doesn't say Steve's name any more; in fact, he rarely talks at all, and when he does, there is almost nothing in his voice of Steve's childhood friend. HYDRA is slowly taking away everything that is Bucky, breaking him and shaping him into something terrible for their own purposes, and while Steve wants nothing more than for Bucky to resist and fight back, the times he does are met with more pain and punishment than Steve can bear to see Bucky take. One day it takes three times on the machine before Bucky stops defiantly repeating his name and serial number, and while Steve can't help the swell of pride he feels in that moment, it's quickly beaten down by sick terror when, on the third try, the technicians continue until blood starts pouring out of Bucky's nose and he stops breathing.

There's guilty relief deep in Steve's chest that day when Bucky finally opens his eyes and docilely lets the guards lead him back to his chamber. And as sick as it makes Steve feel, it also leads to a darker, guiltier thought he'd been trying - and failing - to bury ever since: that Bucky might have been better off dying that day on Zola's train.

The thoughts only intensify when they start sending Bucky out on missions.

Steve tags along the first time they send him out, because like all the other tortures Bucky has had to endure, the least Steve can do is be there for him. Steve isn't sure of the exact details - Bucky's handlers had given him his instructions in Russian - but he picks up enough to know that Bucky is supposed to be eliminating a visiting diplomat with information considered dangerous to the organization's interests.

From the moment they take him out of cryo Steve tries to talk to Bucky, but of course Bucky doesn't know that. He barely talks or acknowledges anything outside his mission parameters anyway, and it isn't like this is anything new to Steve. They give him the best equipment and weapons, the best uniform, and a mask that could only be described as a muzzle. Bucky has been molded into the perfect tool, the perfect weapon for HYDRA, and Steve hates it.

Bucky gets into the diplomat's house and past his feeble security with ease, never pausing or hesitating in the slightest, his handlers right behind him. Steve stays with Bucky the whole time, and despises every minute of it.

Then the moment comes when Bucky has the man face down on a desk in his own study, a gun pressed to the back of the his head while he begs. The ice in Steve's stomach spreads, only to settle like lead when he looks up at Bucky, who is cold and unyielding, with no sign of his former self in his dead-eyed stare.

Steve can't take it anymore.

"Buck, don't." he whispers hoarsely. The man on the desk gives out another frantic, terrified cry that spurs Steve further. "You don't want to do this, Bucky, stop!"

To Steve's amazement, Bucky does.

He pauses, his eyes clearing and widening slightly, breath coming out faster and a little unsteadily. Steve's heart soars as Bucky pulls the barrel of the gun away from the man's head and takes a step back, because Bucky heard, he-

A shot rings out, loud even with the roaring in Steve's ears. The man is still lying across his desk, but now there is a neat little hole in his head.

Steve feels numb and hollow, and looks over at Bucky, who has a little scrunch between his eyebrows as though he is puzzling over something. The blankness is back in full force, however, when he lowers the gun and one of his handlers enters the room, barking something at Bucky in sharp Russian and marching back out.

Bucky follows him without a backward glance.

Steve stays in the room for a long time afterward. Alone but for the dead man in the room - the other dead man. Himself and the man on the desk. Two dead men. He feels a hysterical urge to laugh.

He tells himself he isn't mourning, because technically Bucky is still alive. But...but he is gone, replaced by whoever it is HYDRA has shoved in his place, and that...that's almost worse. Yet even as he thinks it he rebels against the idea, because it can't be entirely true.

He'd hesitated, damn it. It was only for a second, but he had hesitated, and Steve can only hope that means Bucky isn't entirely gone.

Even as Bucky gets sent out on more missions, and becomes an even better weapon than HYDRA could have ever dreamed, Steve tries to hold on to that.

Despite everything, life goes on for the rest of the world. Peggy, bless her, raises hell in all the places it matters. It leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth, but Steve's pleased to see she's also moving on. He cries right along with her when she pours the vial of his blood into the East River, and tells her she's making the right call even if she can't hear him. She finds someone to spend the rest of her life with, and he's happy for her, he is. But he also has to distance himself from her, because how can he expect her to move on if he doesn't?

Howard, too, has gotten married, to a beautiful bride scandalously younger than him, and Steve hopes Maria will help with how bitter and self-absorbed Howard is becoming. His unhealthy obsession with finding Steve still hasn't abated after all these years, and ever since Howard had found that damn cube while looking for Steve, Steve has been concerned with what he's going to do with it. Howard may mean well, but he's chaotic at best. Maybe Maria's presence will stabilize him.

Bucky goes on more missions, and gains a reputation as the ghost story whispered after dark. People start calling him 'The Winter Soldier', and if it weren't so sick and awful Steve would laugh at the twisted irony of it all. He may have been the one that froze to death in the literal sense, but the cold grip of HYDRA has stolen Bucky's life in ways much worse than Steve's. Neither he nor Bucky had ever asked for any of this.

Steve is so very, very tired. Tired of watching without ever being able to do anything. Tired of seeing everyone and everything change while he remains frustratingly in place. Tired of being unable to help Bucky, despite his promise all those years ago. Tired of being….tired, and unable to just close his eyes and rest.

Steve is tired, heartsick, and losing hope, and there is nothing he can do about it.

That is until May 29, 1970.

Steve is at Bucky's side again when he feels the familiar pull. He can tell it's Howard, but Bucky is in cryo at the moment and he hasn't been to see Howard in a while anyway, so, with one last glance at the cryochamber window, Steve gives in and allows himself to be pulled to Howard's side.

He is entirely unprepared for the sight that greets him.

Howard is standing in a hospital hallway, Peggy and a man Steve recognizes as Howard's butler, Edwin Jarvis, at his side. All are looking into an observation window with varying looks of awe and delight on their faces, even Howard, who is actually beaming and looking happier than Steve has seen in years.

Curiosity piqued, Steve wanders over to see what all the hubbub is about, and catches the tail-end of Howard's conversation with Peggy.

"-that's him, in the middle with the dark hair. A chip off the old block, eh?"

Steve looks in, and is glad for once that no one can see him so he doesn't have to hide the surprise he feels.

Of all the things he'd been expecting, a hospital nursery filled with newborns is not one of them. With a jolt Steve realizes that one of the babies must be Howard's. He hadn't even known Howard and his wife were expecting, and thinks guiltily that he should have visited more often. His eyes roam over to the one Howard had pointed out.

Steve is unable to fight the flush of warmth that goes through him. He - it's a he, Howard called it a him, didn't he? - looks so tiny, like his entire body would fit into both of Steve's hands with room to spare, and he's wiggling a little, and Steve finds himself smiling broadly without even realizing it. That alone makes him marvel - he can't remember the last time he had smiled - and he basks in it until the little guy moves his arm, sending another round of warmth through him. He can barely hear what the others were saying over his own internal fawning.

"Howard, he's beautiful." Peggy says, cooing into the glass. Steve wholeheartedly agrees. Even though Howard's baby doesn't really look any different than the other babies in the nursery, Steve still thinks he's the prettiest. He might be biased.

Peggy turns away from the glass to smile at Howard, not as brightly as before but no less fond. "Steve would have liked to meet him." she says softly, startling Steve into turning from the baby to look over at Howard.

One glance at his face, and Steve knows exactly why he's there.

"Yeah," Howard says, confirming Steve's suspicion and returning Peggy's smile, though with more sadness. "I thought the same thing."

Peggy clears her throat before Steve can start feeling too uncomfortable, turning her attention back to the sleepy infant. "How's Maria doing?" she asks, waggling her fingers against the glass.

"Fine - well, tired." Howard amends. He chuckles. There's a nervous energy about him Steve has only ever seen after a particularly successful project has been completed. "She's resting. Anna's with her now."

The baby starts wiggling some more, and Steve checks out again for a full minute until Peggy's voice breaks him out of his spell.

"Well?" she demands. "Are you going to bloody tell me yet, or are you going to keep me in suspense?" She sounds stern, but there's a smile in her voice. She might actually be smiling, too, Steve isn't really sure. He doesn't take his eyes off the baby to see. When Howard doesn't answer right away, she swats him on the arm. "His name, Howard! What's his name?!"

"I thought old age was supposed to mellow you." Howard complains, rubbing his arm. He raises both arms in surrender at the look Peggy gives him. "Alright alright, jeez! Peggy Carter, meet Anthony Edward Stark." He chuckles again, and lowers his arms. "Maria's been calling him Tony."

As if sensing people are talking about him, Tony starts wiggling more and fussing. Steve is gratified to see he's not the only one affected when both Jarvis and Peggy start making little cooing noises and trying to talk to him through the glass. Without even thinking about it, Steve finds himself suddenly standing beside Tony's crib.

Steeling himself, Steve looks into the crib and locks eyes with a little bundle with wispy dark hair, and is man enough to admit that everything inside of him goes warm and squishy.

He doesn't think twice about it. He places his hand inside the crib, right over Tony's little tummy, and says, "It's okay, little guy. You're safe here."

To his amazement, Tony calms instantly. Steve looks down at his hand; it nearly spans Tony's whole torso - are all babies this small? - and he imagines he can feel the warmth coming off of him. He thinks about moving, but decides against it. He knows it's probably a coincidence and he hadn't actually calmed Tony, but he would take the illusion while he could.

Tony lets out a little squeak, and Steve's heart positively melts.

"Hello Tony," he whispers, crouching down to smile at him. "I'm Steve."

From then on Steve's life - well, afterlife - changes forever.

Steve visits Tony often. It doesn't matter if it is naptime and Tony is sleeping, or if he is bright-eyed and gurgling, or having an off night and screaming bloody murder - Steve is there, and knows he feels better for it. He can't quite explain it, but there's a lightness to him every time he sees little Tony; almost as if all the weight of what is happening to Bucky lessens a bit in his presence. So Steve visits Tony, and feels a little less lost and heartsick when he does.

Some days he just sits vigil by Tony's crib while he's sleeping. If Tony is awake, he lets his hand hover over his tummy and chest like he did at the hospital, and makes silly faces at him. Some days he talks to him, tells him stories; not war stories, but the stuff he and Bucky used to get up to before the war and when they were kids.

One night Tony has a bout of colic, crying and setting everyone's nerves on edge. Steve stays with him the whole time, whispering soothing words and trying to comfort him, placing his hands around him, and humming a mixture of the lullabies he had heard Anna sing as well as the ones he remembers his mother singing to him when he was little.

He knows Tony can't actually hear him, but still. For his own peace of mind he likes to imagine Tony is reacting to his voice, and it makes him feel better.

Until he starts to wonder if he isn't imagining things after all.

As Tony gets older, he's becoming more aware of his surroundings, as healthy babies do. He tries to move his head when people talk to him, tracks them with his eyes when they move in his line of sight. Smiles for the first time when Jarvis makes a particularly thrilling sound during a game of peek-a-boo. Coos and gurgles when people talk to him. Tony is learning to interact with his surroundings, and though it's adorable, it's also driving Steve a little crazy, because he swears sometimes that he is one of the things Tony is trying to interact with.

So Steve waits until late one evening when everyone is gone and Tony is alone and wide awake in his crib, determined to test his theory out. He's more nervous than he's felt in years, and a part of him doesn't want to try now that he has gotten his hopes up. He doesn't want to think about what he's going to do if he's wrong, but he has to know. So he takes a deep breath, peers into Tony's crib, and blows a raspberry at him.

Tony giggles. And reaches for Steve.

Steve feels tears prick his eyes. He smiles around them anyway, and for the first time in years looks into the eyes of someone who returns his gaze. "You really can see me, can't you, little guy?"

Tony gives him a gummy little grin in response, and Steve, happier than he's felt in ages, rewards him by blowing another raspberry. Tony laughs again, and tomorrow Steve will feel guilty for keeping him up all night when Maria and the nannies complain about Tony being fussy, but for now, just for a little while, all is right with the world.

Even though Steve has appointed himself Tony Stark's personal guardian angel, he still splits his time between Bucky and Tony. Bucky can't interact with him like Tony can - still can't see or hear him out of cryo, let alone in it, for that matter - but that doesn't stop him from talking to him, so he tells Bucky all about Tony and all the little milestones he's accomplished. He knows he sounds like a gushing parent, but he can't help it; Tony is alive in a way he and Bucky aren't, and he figures Bucky could use the normalcy anyway.

"You'd love him, Buck, he's so sweet. Smart, too, I can tell. Just wait until you hear what he did yesterday…"

In a similar vein, Steve continues to tell Tony stories from the good old days, and isn't really surprised with himself when they predominantly feature Bucky.

"So there we are, soaked to the bone, and I'm madder than a wet cat about it, too. But Bucky just rolls his eyes and goes 'Well, Rogers, you're the one that wanted to see if it'd float!', and I must've been a sight, because he gets a good look at me then and just doubles over laughing…"

"He's starting to talk now, and you won't believe what he said today. 'Ebe'. He was looking right at me when he said it - he knows my name now, Bucky!"

"...and I grab the cushion and hit him with it, but of course that just makes the whole fort fall over, so we end up wrestling under a pile of sofa cushions until Ma finds us with me sitting on him, and I don't think I've ever seen Bucky quite that sheepish…"

Tony is three - just a few months shy of his fourth birthday, actually - when Howard finds out about his 'imaginary friend Steve'.

"What do you mean, you're playing with Steve?" Howard asks, and Steve can tell by his tone that this isn't going to end well.

He'd been playing a memory game with Tony, which in itself wasn't out of the ordinary; Steve liked it because he could actually play with Tony by letting him flip the cards he indicated over, and Tony liked it because Steve was the only one who actually offered him a challenge, thanks to Steve's serum-induced eidetic memory. They sometimes played checkers or chess in much the same fashion, but that was only if someone left either board out in the living room, since Tony couldn't reach them on their shelves ordinarily.

Tony had just made a match of red firetrucks and was excitedly telling Steve all he knew about them when Howard, whom Steve hadn't noticed was standing in the doorway, asked who Tony was talking to. Tony, being the honest little toddler he was, had told him.

And, as expected, Howard doesn't take it well. Steve is disappointed, but unsurprised.

"He is real, he is!" Tony yells for what must be the fifth time, face scrunched up in a mixture of indignation and distress. His and Howard's voices have been getting steadily louder over the last ten minutes, with Howard becoming angrier the more Tony insisted on Steve's existence.

Steve feels like punching Howard, because nobody should be reacting this way to their three-year-old's supposed imaginary friend. He wants to think it's because of Howard's issues with Steve, and it's Tony accurately describing Steve himself in detail that's setting him off, but has the feeling Howard would still be acting this poorly if Tony was insisting on any 'imaginary' person.

"Think about it, Tony!" Howard shouts back, face red. "If he were real, you wouldn't have to touch the cards for him! Can you touch him at all? Can he pick things up for you? He's a figment of your imagination, and one you're too old for!"

Tony's lower lip wobbles, and Steve's heart sinks when he sees Tony considering Howard's words; he's still young enough to think his father has the answers to everything, even if it directly contradicts what's in front of him, and if Howard says Steve isn't real…

Like a nail in a coffin, Howard finishes his rant.

"Face it, Tony, he doesn't exist!"

With that Howard stomps off, leaving Tony alone with Steve to fall on the floor and sob, tears falling freely while his little fists rubbed furiously at his eyes.

Steve had been quiet once Howard had come in, figuring trying to talk to Tony might do more harm than good, considering the fight was about him. But once Howard leaves he bends down in front of Tony, settling his hand near Tony's head.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, feeling furious with Howard and wishing more than anything he could give Tony a hug.

"H-how come no one else can see you?" Tony sniffles, peeking up at Steve around his hands.

Steve grimaces. In the time he has known Tony, that had never been brought up; he honestly thought Tony had never noticed. Jarvis and most of the nannies tended to consider Tony's constant babbling to himself a cute quirk, and indulged him when he mentioned Steve directly. "I don't know, Tony, but-"

"And how come you can't touch anything?" Tony adds, wide-eyed and scared. "Is Daddy right? Are you all in my head?"

Steve's stomach drops. "Tony, no-"

He doesn't get a chance to say anything else before Tony launches himself right at Steve, clearly intending to wrap his arms around his neck; instead, Tony falls right through Steve to land face-flat on the floor.

Tony turns around and gives Steve the most betrayed look he's ever seen from the boy, then bursts into tears.

Jarvis scrambles in a few minutes later, scooping Tony up and trying to soothe him with promises of Anna's cookies. The look Tony gives Steve over Jarvis's shoulder as they leave is the saddest, most heart-breaking thing Steve has ever seen from him.

Furious, Steve blinks himself to Howard's side, wanting to give him a piece of his mind and not caring if he can hear him or not.

He's in his study, a drink already in hand, and Steve is pleased to see Maria is with him, looking just as happy as Steve feels.

"It's my fault, I never should have told him those stories about Steve." Howard tells her, knocking back more than half the glass.

Maria sighs and leaves the room, apparently not any more keen on dealing with Howard drunk than he is, which is fine by Steve. He wouldn't be comfortable saying some of the things he wanted to say to Howard in front of a lady anyway.

That day is a turning point in Steve and Tony's relationship. Try as he might to prove his reality to Tony, Howard's words had done their damage. Though Tony's gaze would still jump to Steve's when he entered a room, and he would still react to Steve's voice and listened when he talked, he doesn't talk to Steve as much anymore. As smart as Tony is, he's still a child, and by his child's logic if Daddy says it then it must be true. Thus, with Howard's active discouragement, Tony starts interacting with Steve less and less.

By the time Tony's fifth birthday rolls around, he can no longer see or hear Steve.

Steve is sad, and more furious than ever with Howard and what will become just one of the many instances of his less-than-stellar parenting, but he doesn't stop looking after Tony as he grows up.

He also doesn't stop telling him stories, even if Tony can't hear him anymore. Some habits are hard to break.

"He's made a robot, Buck. An honest-to-God robot. It's only got one arm, and honestly makes more trouble than it helps with, but it's still a sight. You'd like it, just like Tony. I swear, the older he gets the more he reminds me of you, you're like peas in a pod. Like last week, when he..."

Steve wishes more than anything that he could look away.

The car Bucky had just crashed, the car is Howard's.

And now Bucky is walking towards it, gun in hand, looking to finish him off.

Steve wants to shout, wants to let out a warning, wants to tell Bucky to stop, but his voice is frozen in his throat, and neither Howard nor Bucky would hear him anyway.

Bucky stops at the driver's side of the car. Steve doesn't want to step any closer, doesn't want to see. He'd witnessed HYDRA force Bucky to kill so many people already over the years, he doesn't want to add his former friend to the list.

He forces himself to anyway.

He doesn't remember making himself go to Bucky, but he does. There's a dull, sick weight in his stomach as he takes in the sight before him. He thinks of Tony, safe and oblivious at MIT, and wants to feel comforted by the fact that he at least is not here with his parents.

Howard is dead, killed on impact. Maria, however, is still alive, whimpering and crying softly, bleeding and unable to get free. Steve almost wishes she weren't, because he knows what comes next.

Sure enough, Bucky walks over to her side of the car, gun raised. Steve bends over, arms over his middle, and thinks of Tony, preparing to go to him because he can't watch this, his best friend is going to murder Tony's mother, and he can't-

"H-howard?" Maria cries. "Tony? Tony!"

Steve jerks his head up, because he knows Tony isn't in the car, oh God, don't let Tony be in the car-

He isn't. Steve doesn't know why Maria said his name, but she's hurt and has a head injury, and must be thinking of her son. That's not what keeps Steve staring, though, because Bucky, Bucky-

Bucky has dropped his gun and is backing up, his eyes wide and horrified and more Bucky than Steve has seen in years.

"T-tony?" he repeats, and then, to Steve's shock, "Stevie?"

Steve stands there, uncomprehending, until Bucky falls to his knees. He clutches his head, eyes darting around in panic. "St-Stevie? What, wha-"

He pitches forward and screams, then, loud enough to make Steve's ears ring and Bucky's handlers come running. Steve hovers by his side, trying not to panic - can Bucky see him? - until one of the handlers gets to him. Steve wants to tell him to go away and leave Bucky the hell alone, but he doesn't have to - Bucky shoves him away, sending him flying backwards several feet and smacking into another one. Several more men materialize seemingly out of nowhere and try to detain him, but are given much the same treatment, even if Bucky is fighting with the grace of a wounded animal instead of his normal finesse.

Finally one of the goons wisens up enough to use his gun instead of approaching Bucky. Steve feels everything in him stop dead when the guy shoots Bucky not once, but four times.

Steve falls to his side and feels like crying when he sees darts instead of bullet holes, and is momentarily grateful Bucky is more valuable to HYDRA alive than dead. They also don't seem to want to take their chances, though, because every single able-bodied person who is left descends upon Bucky despite his unconsciousness, loading him up into the van that pulls up only after putting several more tranquilizers and every pair of restraints they have on him.

Steve watches them go, completely shell-shocked and unable to make sense of the situation. With a jolt Steve remembers Maria and what she had said, and hastily makes his way back over to the Starks' car. There's a sharp pang when he gets there and sees that she has already passed, and again he thinks of Tony, who will soon be getting the news that he's an orphan.

Steve can't look at Howard again. He hadn't agreed with his choices or how he'd handled things with Tony, but he'd still been Steve's friend, once. And Maria...Steve had liked Maria. She didn't deserve this. Neither of them did.

He steps away, regret deep in his bones, and decides to focus on the situation at hand:

Bucky had remembered.

Bucky had remembered Steve's name, had called out for him, right after Maria had cried out for Tony.

The gears starts turning in Steve's head. There's no reason for Bucky to react to Tony's name, no reason for him to even know who Tony is, and yet hearing his name somehow triggered a break in years of HYDRA programming, made him think of Steve. It could be that 'Tony' sounded close enough to 'Stevie' to make Bucky think of it, but it had been something else, something more...

Steve thinks back to all his stories to Bucky, all those tales about Tony and his life over the past years. Hours of sitting by Bucky's side, telling him about the other most important person in Steve's existence, always assuming Bucky couldn't hear him, but telling him all about Tony anyway.

Steve feels hope bloom in his chest. Perhaps Bucky had been able to perceive more than Steve thought.

"What happened?" one of the HYDRA technicians asks later while they hook Bucky up to the machine Steve so deeply hates. "It's like he completely snapped."

"Something interfered with his programming." the head technician replies, gritting his teeth over the mission report Bucky's handlers had given him. The hope Steve had felt earlier grew. He was right.

The first technician shakes his head, eyeing Bucky warily. "What happens if he does it again?"

"He won't."

"But-"

"Wipe him."

Steve can't bring himself to stay and see how many times it takes, this time - Tony needs him right now, too.

More years pass, and Bucky doesn't have another breakdown like the night the Starks died, but he does falter twice more on mission. One time it's at the mention of robots, and the other is again a reaction to hearing the name 'Tony'. Both times aren't enough for the handlers or technicians to notice, but Steve does.

He doesn't stop telling Bucky about Tony. In fact, his stories get more detailed.

Steve is in the middle of telling Bucky about the time Tony had convinced Rhodey that yes, he could too build a machine that both toasted and spread creamcheese on a bagel from the spare parts of a lawn mower, easy peasy, when he feels a sharp pain in his chest, like a vise gripping it.

Tony, he thinks, feeling a pull towards him along with the pain. He squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates on him, letting himself go and trying not to let the panic clawing it's way up his throat overtake him. Something is definitely wrong, he can feel it.

When he opens his eyes he is in a bright desert, and Tony is lying on the ground, a dark red stain spreading across his shirt.

He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what's happening, but he's pretty sure he dies a second time when he notices Tony isn't breathing.

Tony is alive, amazingly, but barely. Steve stays with him when the Ten Rings goons pick him up and take him back to their base, when they drop him off in the dingy cave and bark orders at a man in glasses in a language he doesn't understand. He doesn't leave Tony's side when the man - Yinsen - starts performing surgery on him.

Steve can't watch what Yinsen is doing to Tony's chest, so he keeps his eyes on Tony's face, instead. Because of that, he notices Tony waking up before Yinsen does.

Tony jerks, panicked, and gasps for air, eyes unfocused.

"Wha? H-hurts, hurts!" he choked out, flinching. "W-wha..?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. It will be over soon." Yinsen says, and Steve knows he's lying just from the desperation in his voice.

"-o, can't-" Tony mumbles, then jerks again to lock eyes with Steve. "S-Steve? H-help…"

Tears prick Steve's eyes. Tony hasn't talked to him in almost thirty-five years, and he doesn't know now if it's delirium or something else, but he doesn't care; Tony needs him, and Steve would do everything in his power to help.

"I'm here, Tony." Steve chokes, leaning forward until his forehead is resting over Tony's and placing his hand over Tony's chest, like he did when he was little. "I've got you, it's okay." Steve squeezes his eyes shut, remembering another brunet laying on a table in pain while he hovered over him, unable to do anything.

It's the exact same, it's always the same. With Bucky, and Tony, or, hell, even Howard. It's always the same story. Steve can't do anything to help them, and has to stand by and watch them be hurt.

Well, no more.

"I'm here, and I'm with you 'til the end of the line." he whispers hoarsely. The knuckles of the hand he has on the table are white. "And I swear, I'm going to find a way to get you out of here."

Tony's breath rattles and then stops. Steve has a flash of panic before he realizes Tony has just passed out again. He chokes on a relieved sob, then glares at Yinsen.

"You had better do everything you can to make sure he lives." Steve growls at him. He doesn't respond, but Steve hadn't expected him to.

Steve keeps vigil by Tony's side throughout the procedure and afterward, just like he did when Tony got sick when he was little. He doesn't move, doesn't so much as twitch until Tony wakes, and his relief to see Tony up and talking outweighs any disappointment at Tony being unable to see him again.

As Yinsen explains the electromagnet in Tony's chest, Steve thinks about the plan he'd been formulating while Tony was out. He doesn't know precisely how much time has passed, but the next mission HYDRA had lined up for Bucky either meant he had recently been or was about to be let out of cryo.

He doesn't know if this is going to work, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try.

Stepping closer to Tony, Steve brushes a hand through his hair, not caring if neither of them could feel it.

"Please don't die yet, Tony. There's someone I still want you to meet."

Sure enough, Bucky is out of cryo and being prepped for the mission when Steve returns to him. Steve is relieved. He isn't sure if he can handle waiting right now.

He waits until Bucky and his crew have loaded up into the helicopter HYDRA prepared for them to start talking to Bucky so the handlers and technicians won't drown him out.

"Alright, Buck. You remember Tony, right? The guy I've been telling you about?"

There's no response, but Steve plows on.

"Right, well. He's in trouble. Big trouble. I don't know if he can make it out on his own, and I'm…" Steve lets his breath come out in one long, frustrated rattle. "I'm useless, Bucky. I can't do anything. But he needs help."

Bucky still doesn't move, doesn't react, other than to lean to the side a little when the chopper starts to touch down.

"Bucky, please. I know I'm getting through to you, one way or the other." Steve says as Bucky and his handlers disembark the chopper. "Maybe you can't hear me all the time, or even at all, but I know you are getting something from me."

Bucky gives nothing away as he calmly checks the ammo on his gun. Desperation setting in, Steve can't help his shout of frustration.

Bucky marches on through the empty side streets, two of his handlers in tow. Steve has no idea how much ground they have covered before Bucky darts into an alley with discarded papers and garbage lined up along the sides.

Steve feels a flash of pure rage when he sees a newspaper with the headline 'TONY STARK MISSING IN AFGHANISTAN' at the top of the nearest overflowing garbage can, and gives into his fit of temper, kicking it. His foot goes right through the can, just like he knew it would, but a cat lets out a furious hiss and darts from behind it, knocking the can over. The newspaper flies out with the rest of the garbage and catches on the wind, hovering a few feet to smack into Bucky.

Bucky peels the newspaper off of himself while the two goons that are with him go check out the noise. One walks to the end of the alley where the cat ran off while the other stays behind to investigate the knocked-over can, but Bucky just stands there, staring at the newspaper. Even after the men come back, Bucky keeps staring at it. And keeps staring at it.

Steve's metaphorical heart-rate picks up. Bucky is staring at the headline.

When he looks up from the paper, Steve sees the blank glance of the Winter Soldier replaced by a look of confusion.

"Bucky, come on." Steve begs, getting into Bucky's personal space and looking straight into his eyes. "Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You've been my best friend since we were kids. I've been haunting you for almost seventy years, and telling you about Tony for nearly half that time." Steve watches as Bucky's face starts to go blank again, dread pooling in his stomach.

"He needs you, Buck. I can't help him, but you can." Steve pleads softly, bowing his head. It isn't going to work. Bucky couldn't hear him, couldn't help -

"This man...who is he?"

Steve's head shoots up. Bucky is holding the newspaper out to one of his handlers, face still blank but eyes narrowed once again in confusion.

The handlers both exchange nervous glances.

"Nobody, just a guy." one of them finally says gruffly, hand flicking to his gun. "Let's stick to the mission."

"But I know him." Bucky says. Steve's knees go weak.

"No, you don't." says the handler, then turns to his fellow agent. "Something's wrong, he's not supposed to be acting this way."

"But I know him," Bucky insists, speaking over whatever the handler was going to say next.

Both handlers freeze, and then one starts reaching for his gun.

He never gets the chance. Bucky slugs him across the face with the gun in his own hand, turning and slamming the second man's head into the wall before he can react. A cry goes up from the rooftop above them, but Bucky has his rifle up and firing a shot before whoever it is could so much as pull the trigger. Steve hears footfalls at the end of the alley, the rest of the crew coming to see what's wrong.

Bucky scowls in that direction, and gets a better grip on his rifle.

HYDRA sent a total of ten men with Bucky on this mission. It takes him less than a minute to dispatch them all.

Steve knows he should feel bad about Bucky adding ten more to the list of people he'd killed, but can't really bring himself to care.

Once it's over Bucky frowns, taking in the carnage around him, then calmly makes his way back over to the discarded newspaper to pick it up.

He looks down at it for a few minutes, squinting at the picture of Tony that went with the headline.

"Tony Stark." he says aloud, face pinched. "Afghanistan..."

He looks around the alley again, then pulls off his mask. Steve watches him toss it carelessly to the ground and leave the alley. He skulks along for several blocks before casually grabbing a hoodie off someone's railing, followed by a cap from someone's dozing head when he gets to the bus station.

It isn't much, but it's a start.

As it turns out, Tony doesn't need any outside help to escape from his kidnappers.

Without any assistance from the outside world, Tony gains an arc reactor in his chest, builds a suit, raises hell, shoots most of his captors and flies himself out of the Ten Rings camp, and kicks up enough of a ruckus for Rhodey and the army to take notice and find him.

Steve doesn't know whether to be proud or terrified.

Yinsen dies, though, and Steve feels his loss almost as much as Tony does. He was a good man, helped Tony when Steve couldn't, and Steve will remain forever grateful to him. Tony, he thinks, will hold onto him and his last words - "Don't waste your life, Stark." - for the rest of his life.

Tony holds a press conference and tells the world he's no longer making weapons. Most people assume Tony has lost it and aren't pleased; Obadiah is furious, and Steve is still caught between pride and fear for Tony.

Tony's life has changed forever, and while Steve can't yet tell, he hopes it will be for the better.

He wishes he could say the same for Bucky.

In the three months since Bucky had slipped HYDRA's leash, he's been all over the place, figuratively and literally. At first Steve could tell he'd had every intention of plowing straight into Afghanistan, though Steve isn't sure exactly how, but three days into his freedom he'd just...stopped.

Stopped and, completely confused, started making his way back to the nearest HYDRA base. Steve had a good twelve hours freakout before Bucky seemed to have snapped out of it and started making his way southwest instead, and then Steve had no idea what he was doing. Steve would come back from staying with Tony for a few days, and Bucky would almost never be in the same place Steve had left him.

He'd traveled north again and wandered for a few days - then an entire week of being confused in Chicago before moving down to New Mexico and having another breakdown happen. He'd tried going back to another HYDRA base in Miami, killing the two HYDRA agents that had found him there, then went back out west again. There were two more breakdowns before he again saw Tony in the news and made his way down to Mexico. Steve's fairly sure he'd been very close to stealing a plane there but something had spooked him, turning him northward, before he could.

Rinse, wash, and repeat. Between Tony's captivity and Bucky's breakdowns, Steve had had a very stressful three months.

Bucky is still in Mexico, in a town right along the Mexican-US border, when Tony's press conference is shown on the news. He's eating in a little dive bar with a television in the corner when they play it, and the second Tony's name is mentioned his head shoots up, eyes narrowed at the TV in razor-sharp focus.

He watches the whole story, face full of concentration, then leaves the bar.

Steve watches him go, worry and anticipation churning unpleasantly in his stomach.