AN: Obviously I don't own this, Marvel does.

The city streets were his home. The Soldier, no the Asset, no your name is Bucky, walked solemnly down the deserted city streets. Brooklyn was surprisingly tame tonight as was New York City and Queens. Another attack on Manhattan Island had cleared out most of the surrounding cities until people were certain the danger was over. This had become part of New York life. Bucky ignored it.

He turned the corner and made his way up the steps of the deserted apartment building he had been crashing in for the past week. The door gave with a shove and closed with a similar one. He ignored the rats as he made his way up the steps to the top floor of the five story building. He pushed a half broken chair, one that he had thrown during a fit of rage, out of his way as he walked.

Wait, that chair wasn't there when I left. He felt for his knife and pulled it out. Creeping up the steps, he half expected to see Captain America, his name is Steve and he's a punk, standing at the top of the stairs waiting for him. Instead, he found a woman in her late twenties to early thirties sitting on the edge of his cooler reading some papers she had in her hand. If it had been the forties, Bucky would have tried stepping out with her. She was his type.

"Are you going to let me talk before you try to kill me or should I start running now?" she asked coolly.

"Talk," he barked.

"Thought so." She closed the binder she had the papers in and set them to the side. "I'm Elizabeth Harbor, you may call me Lizzie, Mr. Barnes."

"How do you know that name?"

"Your sister Rebecca." The knife in his hand shook. The memories were slowly trickling back to him and his memories had finally dug up his family. He didn't have the heart to look them up. What if he had killed them too? "She sent me to bring you home."

"Becca is alive?"

"Yes. She has five children, twenty grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren. She married one Dean Proctor who died shortly after their marriage began when her future husband Gabe Jones killed him while defending Becca and her unborn child. Gabe was the father of only four of her children but treated all her children as his. Gabe has passed and a few of the children have died over the years. Rebecca is as stubborn as you and won't die until you see her."

"It'll be a long wait."

"She is attempting to contact Anthony Stark at this moment to create a stasis tube to keep her alive until you come see her."

"And who are you? How did you find me?"

"I, like yourself, have a particular skill set, Mr. Barnes. I looked where she pointed and found you. As for who I am, I already told you, I'm Lizzie."

"How do you know my sister?"

"Family friend. As most of her children and grandchildren are too far to take care of her frequently, I check in on her from time to time. She informed me after watching the Washington footage that you were alive and she was going to find you if, and I quote, 'that son of a bitch punk Rogers who couldn't find North if you gave him a compass, a star chart, and pointed him in the right direction' couldn't. I offered to find you as not to strain her. I have a car waiting."

"Outside?"

"And let the HYDRA and SHIELD goons that keep tabs on me know where you are, Mr. Barnes? No. I parked several blocks away in a parking garage."

"Why should I believe you?"

Lizzie held out the binder she had been flipping through. Bucky slowly crossed over and started flipping through the papers and images. His eyes teared up as he stared at pictures from his youth. Newspaper clippings from the war filled pages. Letters that he and Steve had wrote took up half the binder.

"How is she?"

"She is as well as she can be for her age, Mr. Barnes."

"My name is Bucky."

"Bucky," she conceded.

"Can you take me to her?"

"That is what I came here to do." She started for the staircase, her sensible boots making no noise as she crossed the floor. "Are you coming, Bucky?"

The pair made their way from the building and traveled under the growing cloak of darkness to the parking garage. The car was black and unnoticeable. The interior smelled of coffee and smoke. He watched as his companion drew a cigarillo from the armrest and lit it before opening the window. She then pulled out a pack from a grocery bag and tossed it to him.

"Complements of your sister. Hand rolled by her." He took the cigarettes out and stared. He remembered these. He remembered the feeling of a smoke between his lips and the drag. He didn't hesitate to light the cigarette.

The trip took them well into the night and into the early morning. They arrived in a secluded wooded property around seven the next morning. There was a simple cabin there with an old truck parked off to the side under a pavilion. There was a stack of wood next to the house. It reminded him of Europe and the quaint cottages they would stumble upon from time to time.

Lizzie had stopped an hour back at a truck stop with a shower and forced him into it with shampoo and soap. He had changed his clothes. The shirt Lizzie gave him was a little tight but it covered his arm and made him feel warm. He pulled his hair up in a ponytail and shaved the beard he had grown off.

It was time to face Becca.

There was a little old woman cooking breakfast in the kitchen while singing along to Frank Sinatra. She was dancing a little and flipping the pancakes with practiced ease. There was fresh coffee brewing next to her.

"Is that you Lizzie Bell? I heard your car pull up."

"Yes ma'am. I brought something back with me this time."

"Oh you did? That's good. Didn't run into the punk while you were out, right? His little red head was over the other day. Cute girl, Russian I believe from that slight accent that slipped out. Reminds me of those days back working double for Peg. I think she likes the punk. Hope they work out."

"Bec." For the first time in years, Lizzie witnessed as the old woman's hand shook. She set the spatula down and wiped her hands. She pushed her hair up and slowly turned around. "Becca."

"Bucky." The happiness coursed through Becca Barnes enough to make her shake. She slowly reached out and touched his hand before moving up to touch his shoulder and then cup his chin. He stepped forward and hugged her gently. Her legs gave out but Bucky held her up.

"I've missed you Becca," he murmured into her hair. "I missed you so damn much."

"Oh Bucky. You're home."

Lizzie moved away from the pair and finished preparing the breakfast. She laid it out and set out the coffee cups as the two siblings hugged each other. Once done, she sat down and began eating. They joined her after a few more minutes.

"I want to hear about your family," Bucky said. "All of it."

"We'll get to that, Buck. We have all the time in the world. First, Lizzie, don't you have to go?"

"Yes, unfortunately. If I disappeared for too long people would hunt me down." She stood up and wiped away the crumbs from her shirt. "Pleasure, Bucky. Hope to see you again sometime. Next time, maybe instead of thinking about it, you can step out with me." She left the dumbfounded Bucky behind and left the Barnes siblings in silence.

"I never said that," Bucky muttered.

"She's a mind healer, Buck," Becca explained as if that solved it all. "She was an experiment to make a psychic weapon back in the fifties."

"Fifties? She's so young!"

"Experiments don't always go as planned Buck. There are more forgotten, abandoned, and runaway experiments than you think. You're not alone."

"How do you know?"

"Easy, I worked as a secretary for Peggy Carter and Howard Stark for fifty years and consulted a few times. Gabe worked for us too. So did Lizzie." She patted his hand and smiled. "Enough about that. Come on, eat up. You have to regain that muscle mass before the punk shows up. He always seems to know when something exciting happens around this place. Last time it was I had broken my leg and couldn't get up. He showed up out of the blue with that red head of his, the Russian."

"Natalia."

"Natasha, Natalia, whatever she goes by these days. Either way, I expect him within a few days. I want you to be able to run if you have to. I'd rather you talk with the punk but I understand."

"Thank you Becca."

"What are sisters for? Now, eat and then you're going to sleep for a few hours. After that I need you to cut down the tree that is threatening to fall on my workshop out back and cut it up for firewood. Up for the challenge?"

"Yes ma'am," he said with a shit eating grin. At least his sister was basically the same.