I've recently become a little obsessed/intrigued with this ship. After reading a bunch of fics, plot bunnies started to develop and I wanted to write a little something. Plan is to do short one shots here and there. We'll see where it goes :)

I've created some alt-canon details, so hopefully everyone can catch on a roll with it.

Enjoy!

PROLOGUE: NOTHING

Bucky stood in the darkness staring out plate glass window, long hair hanging limp around his cheeks, his sniper sharp eyes picking up every single movement on the streets. The Stark Tower in Manhattan had an excellent view of the glittering metropolis below. Cabs weaving in and out of traffic, lights blinking, the sun setting in the distance beyond the Hudson river.

Steve thought New York would be a good place for him, that it would help him regain more of his memories, more of his former self. He wasn't so sure. Brooklyn had been their home before the war, in a time that didn't exist, that was lost to him.

Who the hell is Bucky?

That was the question, wasn't it?

He flexed his metal fingers, looking out over the skyscrapers, and spotted the Brooklyn Bridge in the distance. If only it were as easy as crossing a bridge to get from A to B. He remembered snippets, big things, like Steve was his friend, they were both orphans, they'd both fought in the war. None of Bucky's memories felt like his. They came to him in disjointed snippets, the way one might recall the scenes from a movie or book, something he could recount, but not experiencing himself. It all felt like it happened to someone else.

In truth, he hadn't felt much more than confusion since escaping HYDRA. He was nothing more than a robot, with a metal arm to prove it. HYDRA had taken away any emotion that wasn't conducive to his missions. He'd been disconnected from everything but the drive to obey and kill. Without remorse, without a conscious, there was nothing in him that made him…a man.

He turned from the window and walked into the darkness of his bedroom. It was for the best. If he could feel remorse, he assumed that his new life of nothingness would be penance for his sins. Steve looked at him like he needed saving, but he didn't. He'd escaped and learned the truth and that was good enough for him.

The king sized bed against the wall was filled with luxary pillows and expensive sheets and looked comfortable as hell. Bucky had tried stretching out on it, closing his eyes, and waiting for his consciousness to shut down, but it was all in vain. It had been decades since he'd had slept like a normal person. His sleeps were always the cryo-induced kind. When he did manage an hour or two of repose, it was hardly restful. He'd wake up, gasping for breath, ready to attack…just the way he had woken everytime HYDRA pulled him from cryo and let him loose to kill again.

He had slept while in the lab facility at the S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ in Washington. They'd tranked him, because he'd flown off the handle and attacked a guard, when one of their scientists attempted to run some tests. Bucky was tired of men and women in lab coats poking and proding and running experiments on him. Never again.

Steve had given the petite, brunette doctor an earful, and Bucky had overheard parts of it when he came to. Tranquilizers never kept him out for long, not unless they were a very, very strong dosage. She argued that it was wise to check him over, to know what they were dealing with. Steve argued that he wasn't a "what" he was a "who" and Steve could handle it. The heated discussion went on for the better part of an hour, before they came to a compromise.

Bucky was moved to an observation room with a cot and after a day or two-when he had apparently proven that he wasn't going to murder them all-he was moved to Stark Tower.

Steve had shown him around the facility. The Stark offices where executives pretended to care, the research and development floors with the labs and goggled scientists. There was a gym and training level with an Olympic sized pool. A medical wing was located above science. The upper floors were only accessible through fingerprint and retina scan. That gave Bucky a little bit of trouble, considering he didn't have fingerprints. For him it would be retina scan and a manually entered key code. These floors belong to the residents of Stark Tower.

Stark stayed in the penthouse, which was comprised of three levels. Steve mentioned that Tony usually resided there about half the year and then half on the west coast. His current location was classified. Below Stark's apartments were the floors for guests and special employees.

Bucky merited the title of guest. His living quarters consisted of a bedroom, bathroom, small kitchen, and small lounge area. It was more or less an entire apartment all to himself, away from the other residents of the tower. Steve would be living there, too for the time being, just to keep an eye on him and be there in case he needed him.

"It'll be okay, ya know?" Steve told him at the end of the tour.

Okay was probably relative. The way he figured, staring out the window, feeling nothing, not even the will to kill, was as close to okay as he was ever going to get.

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Darcy never imaged that delving into fairytales would one day become her job. As research assistant to Doctor Jane Foster, employed by S.H.I.E.L.D., she found that she ended up in a lot of places and doing a lot of things that she never thought she would end up doing. Like going through Norse mythology and cataloguing every single detail, interpretation, and legend she could find to cross-reference. For anything that might be relevant.

Thor kept say that something was coming, which made Jane nervous, which meant that Darcy was very, very busy.

So of course when Jane told her that she was now responsible for their grocery list, she bulked. Because she just had so much free time on her hands.

"Doesn't Stark have staff for this?" she grumbled as she went through the delivery app on her phone and picked out groceries for herself, Jane, Clint, Natasha, and…him.

Darcy hadn't officially met the man known as The Winter Solider yet. No one went hear his rooms, except for Cap and Natasha. He stayed in the guest quarters, two floors above her apartment on the employee floor. It was probably a place nicer than hers, since she and Jane lived on the staff floors. Still, her place was nicer than a Manhattan shoebox, and considering she was neck deep in student loan debt a shoe box was more than she could afford anyways.

She didn't even have a degree to show for her expenses, after getting distracted by the mysteries of sciences and space gods and the world as she knew it falling apart.

Only the Avengers and select few including herself and Jane knew of Stark Tower's ghostly resident. His existence was super duper beyond level seven classified. The only reason Darcy even knew about it was because she was nosy as hell and followed Jane one day—back when they were still headquartered in Washington-she was called down for a super secret project.

The nosy side of her wanted to see him. Sure, she had seen the old reels and still photographs of Sargent James Buchanen Barnes at the Smithsonian, but she knew from her quick glimpse of his fist of fury when he was first brought to the underground facility in Washington that he wasn't that same made. She was curious about him, knowing his story, hearing things from Steve. Jane's curiosity and need to solve mysteries had rubbed off on her in the three years they'd known one another.

Now she has an excuse to sneak up there and see the mystery man himself. A flimsy one—and if Barton or Nat catch her they will totally see through it—but she goes with her gut and heads up the elevator to his floor.

Her knock at his door went unanswered and she carefully let herself into the room. The door was unlocked, so that's as good an invitation as any right?

"Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing in the silence. The living area and kitchen, visible when she first walked in, is shrouded in darkness, save for a few strips of light leaking through the black out curtains. Maybe the Winter Solider was nocturnal.

A click and the cool metal of a gun barrel pressed to her temple answered her questioned.

Darcy gasped and froze, throwing her hands up in surrender. "Whoa, whoa! I come in peace!"

"Who are you?" A deep voice growled. She couldn't see him, but felt tension and defense rolling off him in waves. She was an intruder and therefore, a threat. She didn't dare turn her head for fear that any movement might encourage him to pull the trigger.

"Uh—I'm Darcy…Lewis," she gulped. "I'm Jane Foster's research assistant. I'm a good guy. See, the lab coat? Good guy. Team Science. Er—well I guess to you Team Science hasn't been so great. But here it's pretty good, except for Stark who can be kind of an asshole sometimes…"

She let out a breath as he lowered the gun, hoping that meant that he decided she wasn't a danger and he didn't need to shoot her.

Without the gun to her temple, Darcy took a chance and turned to face him, reaching for the light switch. The room illuminates and she see his face. He looks nothing like the clean cut, war hero depicted in those old reels. For one thing, he's bigger and more muscular than Bucky Barnes of the Howling Commandos. His hair is longer, his jaw scruffier, dark purple rings under his eyes. Something about the way he looks at her reminds her of the dogs at the rescue shelter she used to volunteer at in high school.

Proceeding with caution would probably be a wise decision.

"We met once. Sort of. Actually, not really. I was behind the double glass when they brought you into the lab in D.C.. Saw you throat punch a guard. Excellent move, by the way. I didn't like that guy. He totally cupped my boob once when I was getting a security pat down. I spiked his coffee with ex-lax though—"

"What do you want?"

"Oh, yeah. I came to see what you'd want from the grocery store."

He continued to frown at her. Darcy didn't think he had blinked once since she'd walked through the door. "What?"

"Like, food? What kind of food do you like? In case you didn't know, which you probably don't, I'm the one who has been buying you food for the past month. Even though I'm not an intern anymore and it shouldn't be my job. I've just been picking out things I like, because I figured you probably didn't have the luxury of Pop Tarts and Pizza Rolls in that HYDRA lab."

She reached into her pocket for her phone, to pull up the grocery delivery app, and noticed the gun in his hand twitch toward her again. "Whoa hey, buddy! Just my phone. No guns or knives or weapons of any kind. The worst I could do is throw this at your head and I really doubt it would do much damage." Her palms were in the air again, waving the phone, and her eyes flicked to the gun. "Seriously, can we loose the Glock? I'm the least threatening person in this entire building, aside from Dr. Padmore who I'm pretty sure is one of the dorks from Saved By the Bell all grown up."

The Winter Solider seemed to consider her words for a few moments, cocking his head to one side and assessing her with dark eyes. He stared hard at the phone, but she watched some of the tension leave him and he set the gun down on the table next to him. Darcy didn't miss that while he was no longer holding the weapon, it wasn't out of his immediate reach.

She blew out another small breath or relief, thankful that curiosity wasn't going to kill this cat today—Darcy being the cat in the scenario.

"So, food?"

"It doesn't matter." His words weren't impolite, but it sounded as if it took great pain for him to form each one, every syllable a heavy weight to lift.

"Well, it does matter, because people need to eat to live and also eating is really fun. I didn't get these great thighs by not enjoying bagels," she let out a nervous laugh, not sure why she felt the need to reference her curves to the former assassin. "Do you mind?"

Not waiting for answer, Darcy walked slowly over to his kitchen area, making each move careful and deliberate, just so he didn't go reaching for the gun again and get trigger happy. She popped open the door to the cabinets, frowning when she saw them completely stocked. Then she inspected the contents of the fridge, finding that full as well. That wasn't right. It should be empty. She'd seen the way Cap and Thor ate. Natasha and Barton could also pack it away. The cupboards should have been beyond bare.

She turned to the counter, noticing the fruit basket was empty and likewise, the bread was gone.

"Apples and bread?" she asked. "That's all that you've been eating?"

He blinked at her and looked away as if bored by the entire conversation. "Okay, that's just not going to work. You have to eat. You need protein. I'm getting you steak and chicken and lots of meat. Stark can suck it, it's not like he can't afford to feed us prime cuts every day of the week."

Darcy trailed off, taping into her app a few choice items. Maybe he just wasn't into the junk food. She picked organic, focusing on protein and veggies, and carbs, carbs, carbs.

James—or Bucky, she wasn't sure what to call him—just watched her the entire time with tight shoulders and guarded eyes, not saying a single word, or offering any opinion as she made verbal tics down the list for him.

"I guess that does it," she announced, satisfied with her choices and hoping he would be as well. "I'll be back when the delivery arrives. Sorry to bug you."

Darcy slipped her phone back into the pocket of her lab coat and spun away, wondering if she'd made the right decision to engage him or not. He hadn't shot her, so that had to be a plus. Come to think of it, she wasn't sure what she had been expecting from him. All of the Avengers were their own brand of taciturn—it sort of came with the territory—but his was different. He clearly did not want to be around people at all.

"SIG Sauer."

The words were spoken at a volume so low, Darcy wasn't even sure if it had just been the pad of her shoes against the floor, instead of him actually speaking to her. Still, she turned back toward him.

"Sig-who?"

"The gun," he said. "It's not a Glock. It's a SIG Sauer."

"Huh," she said. "Learn something new everyday." She offered him a friendly smile from the doorway. "I'll see you later. Try not to shoot me when I come back with the food."

Darcy snuck up to deliver the groceries; the door unlocked again when she got there. He wasn't around, but she knew he was there. Darcy unpacked the goods and put everything away, humming to herself as she arranged the food in his fridge.

"Alright, I'm out," Darcy called to the seemingly vacant apartment. "I'll be back in a day or two. Eat something."

She paused by the door for a few breaths. He didn't answer or reveal himself, so she gave up and left him to whatever he did to fill his days.

She meant what she said though, she would be back.

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Just the start of things to come! Hope you liked it or maybe if you're one of my regular readers, who stumbled over here, maybe you'll jump on the ship soon...

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