All things considered, finding Steve was quite possibly the easiest part of this whole ordeal. All it took was one Google search on one of the computers in a small-town library, and James knew pretty much everything that Steve had been up to in the past several decades, from his own fall from the train onwards.

He was more than a little peeved when he read about the part where Steve put down a plane in the Arctic, but he'd survived, so he guessed that was water under the bridge. He did plan on giving Steve a hard time about it initially, though. He saw that after getting thawed out, Steve had continued the work he started during the war, working with the Avengers to defend the world against bullies one threat at a time.

It took a bit more digging, and a few phone calls made from the library pay phone before James was able to figure out a way to actually call Steve and let him know he was alive. He settled on getting a hold of one Virginia "Pepper" Potts, who looked to be the go-to person when it came to Stark Industries and the Avengers.

He spoke with a secretary, who asked him to hold for several moments before the banal orchestral music was cut off with a click, and a prim voice said, "Hello, this is Virginia Potts speaking. Who, might I ask, is calling?"

He took a deep breath. "Hello, this is James Barnes. I was calling about information on getting in contact with Steve Rogers. I know this might sound a bit crazy, but we grew up together. We were separated near the end of the war, and I've been wandering from place to place ever since. I just recently got back to New York and looked him up, saw that he was still around despite his best attempts. I was wondering if you could help me get in contact with him?" There was a pregnant pause, and James found himself holding his breath waiting. When the person on the other end of the line spoke again, her voice sounded just the slightest bit strained.

"One moment please, Mister Barnes," she said. James waited, and his enhanced ears could hear her hand cover the phone, and her muffled voice saying, "Jarvis, please run voice recognition on the current call," and a male voice in a clipped British accent reply, "Certainly, Miss Potts." There was some noise against the receiver and she was back. "Mr. Barnes, how long have you been in New York? And, if you don't mind my asking, whereabouts are you staying?"

"I don't mind at all, Miss Potts," James replied affably. "I've been in-state for the past three years, but I had prior obligations until recently. I'm currently still quite a ways upstate, staying at a small inn in Chestertown. I was hoping to come down to the big city soon once I got a hold of Steve so we could meet and catch up."

"Ah yes, you must be up near the Adirondacks. Stark Industries has some warehouses a ways south of there. It's a lovely area. I trust that your accommodations are to your liking?" James could hear a slight thawing of her tone as she continued talking with him.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "The room's got a great view of the mountains. I think I can even see some of the leaves starting to come in on the trees. It should be spring soon, if this warm streak we've been having keeps on."

At that moment he heard the same voice from before faintly, as he broke in with an apologetic tone, "So sorry to interrupt, Miss Potts. The voice recognition scan has been completed. A moment, please?"

"Certainly, Jarvis," her voice was a bit distant, as she presumably turned from the phone receiver, towards the one speaking. Her voice regained its volume again as she said, "So sorry, Mr. Barnes, but if I could put you on hold once more?"

"Of course," he replied, before there was a click, and he was listening to the nondescript orchestral music from before. He plied the pay-phone with more quarters to ensure the call wouldn't be cut off any time soon, and he shifted his stance so that he was leaning against the wall with one ankle tucked across the other and the receiver wedged between his ear and shoulder. After several minutes, there was a click and an end to the music, and tears sprung to his eyes at the voice on the other end.

"What is this, some kind of joke?" a familiar tenor demanded tersely. Steve. Miss Potts must have either gotten him up there in her office, or had somehow transferred him to Steve personally. He'd have to remember to get her a little something in thanks.

There were a few moments of pause as he tried to push past the lump in his throat to reply. If his voice still sounded a bit choked up, well there's nobody who'd be able to blame him. 70 years, and nothing about Steve seemed to have changed a bit.

"Hiya, Stevie." He heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end and gave a slightly wet chuckle.

"How do I know you're really him?" Steve demanded, although he sounded a lot less abrupt than initially.

"Your mom's name was Sarah." He huffed out a ghost of a laugh, "'N you used to wear newspapers in your shoes…" He could hear Steve gulp back a sob, and his eyes pricked in response.

"Buck… how…" there was a pause as Steve sniffed and heaved a sigh before continuing," You fell." His voice cracked on the last word. "I saw you go. It haunted my dreams for years afterwards, even in the ice."

"Yeah, about that. I'm gone for two months, and all of a sudden you go all suicidal on everybody? What the hell, punk?!"

"It was the only way," Steve defended weakly. "Schmidt's plane was speeding towards the East Coast with a whole load of bombs set to go off. The only way to stop it was to put the plane down."

"Uh huh. Sure, Mr. Man With a Plan," James replied sceptically, rolling his eyes, even as he grinned at the familiarity of messing with his best friend. He'd missed this while he was wandering the world as Bearskin.

"Aw, shove it, ya jerk," Steve replied, the grin apparent in his voice as well.

"But yeah," James continued after a pause. "All that experimenting Zola got around to after Azzano. It changed me, Stevie. Made me kind of like you. Not quite. They hadn't figured out the whole process of how they made you big. But they managed to do something, 'cause the fall didn't kill me. Took off my arm, though." He paused, remembering what had happened next, and all that followed.

"Buck… I'm sorry," Steve sounded close to tears again.

"What the hell for, punk?"

"That I couldn't catch you. That I didn't jump after you. That I couldn't save you."

James scoffed, "Wasn't your fault, and what would you have solved by jumpin' after me? Nothin', that's what. Now, enough talkin' about this. What's done is done, and all in the past. But as for the present, I wanted to come down to meet ya, see how you're doing for yourself now that you're a honest to god superhero. Think you have time to pencil me in to that busy schedule of yours?"

"Of course, Buck. I've always got time for you. You got someplace to stay? If you want, you could come stay at the Tower with me. I'm sure Stark wouldn't mind one more person up here. I could probably talk him into getting you an apartment set up on one of the Avengers levels."

"If it's not too much trouble, I might take you up on that. I have some stuff I need to do here upstate, but I could probably be down there before the end of the week."

Steve gave him directions to Avengers Tower and his cell phone number in case he needed further directing, and James gave him the phone number for the inn along with his room number in case of emergency, and they ended the call with Steve extracting a promise that he'd be there sooner rather than later.

And so it was, on a sunny and increasingly warm spring morning midway through the week, Bucky found himself hopping astride a motorcycle he'd bought off of one of the locals and speeding off, leaving upstate New York nothing more than a reflection in his side mirrors.

*

Steve greeted him in the lobby of Avengers Tower with suspiciously wet eyes, a slightly wavering smile, and a bear hug that seemed to go on forever. James wrapped his arms around Steve in return, his eyes getting a bit misty as well in the process. Steve finally ended the hug and drew away, placing his hands on James' shoulders and holding him at arm's length, drinking in the sight of him.

After a while, to cut the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him, James smirked before quipping, "Alright punk, as fun as it is staring into each other's eyes lovingly, don't you have some things to show me before I settle in?"

Steve snorted in amusement, shaking his head and muttering, "Jerk," whilst surreptitiously wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. James pretended not to notice, and instead bent to pick up the duffel bag containing his few belongings, including the now dry-cleaned but still ratty green coat. Steve turned and headed for a bank of elevators further into the lobby, and James followed. The doors to an elevator on the far right slid open upon their approach almost soundlessly, and Steve entered and leaned against one wall.

"JARVIS, Avengers Residential levels please," Steve said with a small glance upwards.

"Certainly, Commander Rogers," replied a crisp and vaguely familiar British voice, coming from somewhere near the ceiling. James jumped visibly. "Apologies, Sergeant Barnes, I did not mean to startle you. My name is JARVIS, and I am the Artificial Intelligence currently in charge of the functions and security in Avengers Tower. If at any time you find yourself in need of anything, please let me know and I will do my best to serve you."

James placed a hand on his chest, willing his heartbeat to slow. He saw Steve looking at him with a mixture of concern and amusement. "Er, thanks JARVIS. Pleased to meet you."

"And I you," replied the voice as the elevator began to move, slowly at first but picking up speed. James lent half an ear as Steve chattered on about the tower and its occupants. When the elevator finally slowed and gently bumped to a stop, the AI once again spoke. "Residential Levels, Commander Rogers. Enjoy your stay, Sergeant Barnes."

"Thanks, JARVIS," replied Steve, and James echoed his reply with a soft voice.

The doors to the elevator opened as silently as when they had entered, and a wide sunny room was revealed. There was a large kitchen area, a countertop island, a dining table and chairs, and a comfortable looking sitting area to the left with big plush couches facing the windows that took up the entire wall offering up a breath-taking view of the New York skyline. "This is the common area. Often the members of the team come here in between missions to relax and spend their down time not cooped up in their individual apartments." Steve gestured to the whole of the room in one big sweeping gesture, and James followed the trajectory with his eyes.

It was then that James caught sight of her, and his heart skipped a beat. Darcy was sitting by herself on one of the couches, looking out the window whilst absently toying with something in her lap. From where he stood, he could see that she was dressed all in black clothing, and her look was decidedly blank. He'd seen that look on lots of soldiers in the war. The 'Thousand Yard Stare', they'd called it. It made something in his chest hurt something fierce to see it on her, especially paired with the dark circles under her eyes, and the defeated slant to her shoulders.

She brought the hand that had been fiddling in her lap up to her face, pressing it against her mouth. He caught a glimpse of familiar red beads and a wooden cross, and any remaining doubts that she may have forgotten him, or written him off were swept away.

Steve followed his gaze, and gave a low hum and a shake of his head that had something of pity in it. "That's Darcy Lewis," he said lowly. "She works with a scientist in the RD department, one Doctor Jane Foster and her mentor Erik Selvig. They got here about three years ago, but she's been like this for the past year. Not sure what happened, and none of them will talk about it. She just wanders around like a ghost between taking care of Doctor Foster, Selvig, and Doctor Banner." James just nodded, brow furrowed, not letting on that he already knew the three scientists. He saw Darcy glance over briefly at their hushed conversation, but her gaze didn't linger and she went back to staring out listlessly over the buildings outside.

Suddenly, a series of loud pings broke the silence, and Steve's attention was jerked to the pocket of his khakis. He fumbled in his pocket a bit before pulling out his phone. After a few moments of scrolling, Steve glanced back up at James. "Sorry, Buck. I've got a couple calls to make. Do you mind waiting in here until I can show you the rest of the floor and where you'll be staying?" He grinned apologetically, and James found himself grinning back easily, their old camaraderie returning after years of disuse as if it had never left.

"Yeah, go on, punk. I've waited seventy years, a few more minutes won't kill me," he said gruffly, clapping him on the shoulder a bit. Steve's grin grew brighter before he turned, already bringing the phone to his ear as he left the room.

Once Steve had left, he looked back at Darcy. She hadn't budged, hadn't even looked his way again. As he watched, a big muscled blond man came up, a concerned look on his bearded face. Darcy looked up at him and smiled wanly when he came to a standstill in front of her. The man tried to press a steaming mug of something into her hands, the murmur of his voice barely reaching James' ears. He could hear the urgency of the man's words, even if he couldn't actually hear the words themselves, but Darcy just shook her head several times until the man gave up and set the mug on an end table next to her.

James' hand came up to the pocket of his dress shirt, where the half ring piece rested against his heart. After a glance back at where Steve had disappeared through the door, and when he didn't see any sign of his friend returning, he quietly made his way over to the window where Darcy was sitting.

"Hello," he said quietly, his voice barely audible, even in the quiet room. Darcy didn't even look up, just kept staring out the window.

"Hello," she said just as quietly.

"I, ah, I couldn't help but overhear… Your friend sounded pretty concerned for you." James reached over and grabbed the still-steaming mug, and giving it a perfunctory sniff that told him it was chamomile tea, he took the ring half out of his breast pocket, and gently dropped it into the golden liquid. "You look like you could really use some sleep. Those are some serious dark circles you've got going on. Maybe you ought to just have a few sips?"

Darcy looked over at him, a slightly incredulous look on her face. Her eyes flicked over his face, a slight furrow appearing between her brows before her gaze shifted to the mug he was holding out to her with his right hand. She immediately dismissed him, looking back out the window. "Why do you care?" Her tone was sceptical and petulant as she subtly turned her body away from him, effectively shutting him out.

"I can't stand to see a dame looking so under the weather. C'mon. Just a few sips?" He tilted the mug towards her once more, and she gave him one more glance before rolling her eyes and reaching out to take the mug from him.

"Fine. If it means you'll quit bugging me." She blew on the liquid for awhile, still making no move to take a drink, so James sat on the couch next to her, content to wait. She looked askance at him, her gaze lingering a little longer. When he made no move to leave or make conversation, just looking at her expectantly, she lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip.

As she tipped the cup up to take a drink, there was a tiny 'tink' from the bottom of the cup. Her brows drew together in confusion, as she looked down into the mug. She peered in dumbly for a few moments before gingerly sticking a finger into the tea, hissing slightly at the still-scalding temperature of the liquid, as she fished out something that glittered. She stared at the gold half circle that sat in her right palm, and from his vantage point, James saw her expression morph from confusion to disbelief, and her gaze snapped back to his. Her eyes narrowed as she focussed on studying every inch of his face, and he sat still beneath her scrutiny even as his heart hammered in his chest and the blood rushed in his ears. He could see the moment comprehension hit her, and tears sprang into her eyes. Her hands went limp, and the mug went tumbling to the rug with a dull thunk and its contents went splashing out.

"James?" she choked out, her now-empty hand coming up to brush against his cheek. He couldn't even speak past the lump in his throat, so he just nodded dumbly, leaning more fully into her hand so that it made true contact. She let out a sob, before throwing her arms around his neck and began crying into his shoulder as she clung to him. He wrapped his metal arm around her, his flesh hand coming up to stroke at her hair.

"Yeah, doll. It's me. I told you I'd come back to you," he murmured with his lips at her temple.

"I thought it was my big bear-man that was coming for me," she laughed tearfully, releasing her grip on his neck, as she pulled back to drink in the sight of him. Even with her face streaked with tears and red eyes joining the dark circles, James thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life. She brought her hands up to his face, one cupping his cheek, and the fingers of the other skimming across his eyebrows, down his nose, and over his upper lip and then lower lip. His eyes slipped shut, as he soaked in the most human contact he'd had in decades.

After a moment of hesitation, James dipped his head and kissed her, the arm around her tightening minutely as he drew her close to him once again. He drank in the feel of her, the tiny puff of breath she let out just before his lips met hers, the brush of her eyelashes against his cheek, and the slight roughness of chapped lips, while his fingers sifted through the hair at the nape of her neck. He catalogued every sensation to keep from drowning in it after having been isolated for so long from even the smallest connection.

"Bucky?!?"

Steve sounded equal parts scandalised and confused, and James was startled into pulling away from the kiss. He tried not to be too smug about the brief dazed look on Darcy's face as her eyes blinked open, just before realisation sank in and she turned bright red, burying her face in his shoulder. He threw back his head and laughed a full-throated laugh for the first time in seventy years. After a couple moments, Darcy's muffled giggles joined him, while Steve looked on in complete bewilderment at the display. Once their laughter had finally died down, and Darcy was no longer hiding in his shoulder, James turned to Steve with a gigantic grin.

"Stevie, have I got the story for you..."