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Sam had a plan. Sam had a plan for this mission, and it all went to shit when a random fucking sniper showed up. Whose sniper is it? They aren’t sure. It certainly isn’t the rogue magician’s sniper, because what magician hires a sniper? A non-magical sniper.
So, that’s great. There’s a third party getting involved in a mess that was already messy enough. First, magic, second, this whole situation is taking place at some docks, which are far too public, so they keep having to move civilians further and further away, and now third. The sniper.
Sam ducks behind his shield and crab walks over to where Bucky is, He's crouched behind some shipping crates, hopefully analysing the battlefield and giving them a quick way out of this in that slick way he sometimes but not always pulls off.
He certainly looks like he’s concentrating hard. His eyes are focused on where the shots are coming from, and he’s frowning, just slightly. Sam may have a bit of a competence kink, because that intense, focused look always does something for him. Bucky’s never given any signals he likes Sam - let alone likes men - so Sam hasn’t followed up on it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have feelings. Still has feelings, because he's a sap who doesn't know how to give his heart a break.
“Can you hit them back from here?” Sam asks.
Bucky doesn’t reply, which isn’t abnormal, but the complete lack of attention he gives Sam is.
“Hey, dude, don’t give me the cold shoulder, I kinda need you right now,” Sam snaps.
Bucky’s eyes flick to him. He looks a bit shaken, a bit jolted, and Sam feels bad. Lord knows Bucky has enough up there in his brain to capture his attention, and Sam doesn’t want to jostle anything uncomfortable free.
“What did Strange say the magician had again?” Bucky asks.
Sam doesn’t argue about the complete non-sequitur. “Think it was time something-something. Strange said it wasn’t working.”
“He said he was pretty sure it wasn’t working,” Bucky argues. “Important distinction.”
“Does that really matter? Not like they’ve used it.”
Bucky just looks at him.
“Shit. They have?”
“I think I know who the sniper is,” Bucky says.
Sam looks up at the small room on the top of the crane that they’re sure the sniper is in. He can’t see anything through the tinted window, only the flash of the gun when they let off a shot. There’s no way to see who it is. But if there’s time travel in play…
“You’re not serious,” is all Sam can say.
“He’s making shots the same way I would,” Bucky says, sounding exhausted. Which is fair enough. Sam’s already mentally shitting himself, but for Bucky? This is like getting another go on the world’s worst fairground ride.
“But Hydra’s not here. It’s just him. It is just him, right?”
“Yeah,” Bucky says. “I think he’s shooting at us because he just got dumped somewhere entirely out of his frame of reference, and he’s scared.”
That’s fun. That’s reallllyyy fun. A scared Winter Soldier is just as criminally effective as a one that's not, and more likely to lash out with severe repercussions to Sam’s expected life span.
“You deal with the magician, I’ve got this,” Sam says.
Bucky’s expression darkens. “I’m dealing with him.”
“Nah, I’ve got a plan for this.” Sam tries to sound confident, and probably fails, but he’s not lying. He does have a plan.
Sam had a plan on what to do if he managed to find Bucky after the fall of SHIELD, when they weren’t sure who exactly they would find. He’d researched and rehearsed techniques to calm aggressive people down and practised dodging the Winter Soldier’s shots with Natasha, whenever she was available.
An aggressive, scared, confused Winter Soldier is exactly the thing Sam has trained for. And no offence to Bucky, he’s seen how self-deprecating the man can be. Sam does not trust him to treat the version of himself he hates the most with any kind of respect.
Bucky opens his mouth to argue back, but Sam doesn’t have time for this. He expands his wings and shoots off into the sky.
Now that he’s expecting them, it’s easy to dodge the shots coming for him. He’s gotten better at flying with the new Cap Winged suit, and moving comes a lot easier to him than it did when he was fighting the Winter Soldier the first time.
He spirals through the air, heading straight for that small box office at the top of the crane.
There’s a glint of a silver arm, a wisp of dark hair poking through the window, and that’s confirmation. It really is the Winter Soldier.
Fuck. When they get him down, this is going to be a whole tricky kind of mess. But that’s later. Right now, Sam just has to focus on actually managing to get him down safely.
Sam swerves to a halt and raises his hands.
“I surrender!” he shouts.
The muzzle of a gun pokes out of the crane window at him, but no bullets come his way.
A mass of dark hair rises up into view, followed by a pair of searing blue eyes.
Sam’s used to Bucky’s stares now, but there’s something about these eyes, something about knowing the head behind them has been fucked with beyond measure, that traps him in that look.
“I’m not going to fight you,” Sam reassures him. “This is a surrender. What is your goal here? Maybe we can work on it together, huh?”
He’s trying to angle that hopefully the Winter Soldier here was pulled here randomly, and therefore was given targets that now aren’t even in the picture. He’s already hopeful that it’s not the exact same Winter Soldier that tore his wings off and threw him off the helicarrier, otherwise he would already be dead.
The Winter Soldier’s face comes into full view. He’s squinting, eyes tight on Sam’s chest.
Well, more specifically, Sam’s suit.
No wonder. This must be weird as hell for him. If he even remembers Captain America, he remembers a blonde white dude, not… Sam.
But if that slight sense of memory can keep him from attacking, that’s fine.
“You know this? I’m Captain America.” Sam waves his shield out for good measure.
The Winter Soldier’s eyes follow it, and then dart back to Sam’s face. He’s not good at hiding the look of raw confusion on his face as his gun drifts downwards, half forgotten. Sam takes it as a reason to move closer.
The muzzle points back up at him.
“Hey, I’m not going to do anything, I promise. Just want to get you down.” Sam wiggles his shield. “You remember this? You can trust Captain America’s word.”
Part of him is glad Bucky isn’t hearing this right now. He would definitely be making fun of him.
But in a way, Bucky is. The Bucky right in front of him, the Bucky that doesn’t even know his own name.
“What is this?” is the first thing the Winter Soldier says. His voice is nearly flat, but vibrating with energy. He’s trying hard not to appear… something. Scared? Confused?
From his perspective, he’s surrounded by possible enemies without any form of recourse. He doesn’t know who anyone is, and wouldn’t have been briefed on a flying Captain America from the future.
“There’s been an accident,” Sam says. “It took you here, where you really shouldn’t be, and I want to help you get…” Back? Is that what’s going to happen? Maybe Sam should have thought about that before opening his mouth, but now he’s thinking about it, he really doesn’t want to send Bucky back to HYDRA.
“Safe,” Sam finishes.
The Winter Soldier eyes him.
“This is not Norway,” the Winter Soldier says decisively.
Is that a question? Maybe. Sam chooses to answer it anyway.
“No, this is the United States.” Sam points to himself. “I’m American. We’re not your targets.”
The Winter Soldier looks down at the ground. His expression tilts into a frown.
He starts to put away his gun.
Inwardly, Sam rejoices. Of course, he could easily kill him with the strength of his metal arm, but this has to mean something, right?
He puts the gun away and looks back up at Sam with an expectant expression.
Sam gestures to the crane building.
“Are you going to let me come in there?”
The Winter Soldier nods and presses himself into the far corner.
Sam twists his wings and awkwardly fits himself through the door. He has to slide his wings shut inside; not enough room to have them spread out. He closes the crane door behind him and the whistling of the wind abruptly cuts out. He’s all but a foot away from the Winter Soldier, and it’s hard not to remember all the harm that silver metal arm did to him, but Sam is very, very good at cutting past the terror crap and focusing on what he has to do. So here he is, making headway with the Winter Soldier.
“This is the United States,” Sam says, “It’s also 2025.”
He waits for a reaction to that one. There’s nothing. The Soldier’s face is blank, neutral. Accepting.
“Okay, um, well, no one here is your target, so you don’t need to shoot at them. That good?” Sam adds.
The Winter Soldier squints at him.
“I am not authorised to kill the one who brought me off-mission?”
Authorised? That’s not… that’s not a great sign, but Sam doesn’t feel inclined to dissuade him from that notion while the ground is a grey sea below them.
“This was an accident,” Sam says. That's definitely true, because no way would the wizard have brought in a Winter Soldier that he couldn’t control, if he knew what was best for him. “No killing. It won’t fix this or, uh, return you to your mission. If we bring you down, can you promise that you aren’t going to attack anyone?”
The Winter Soldier stares at him like he’s suddenly grown two heads.
“I want to help you,” Sam adds, hoping it makes whatever he said a bit clearer, “And we can’t help you if you’re killing us. So, when we go down there, are you going to attack?”
The Winter Soldier says nothing for a second and Sam starts to feel the sweat cooling on his back, under the tight constraints of the suit.
“I will not attack you.”
“Great,” Sam sighs, definitely not relieved, because he knew he was able to do this. Even if it did feel shaky for a hot second.
He thinks about bringing them down from up here. About how exactly he’s going to do that. The Winter Soldier has a metal arm, that’s going to be heavy as hell. But he can’t exactly ask him to climb down.
“Fireman carry it is,” Sam says decisively. He kicks open the door, and the wind blows back in. The Soldier’s hair whips around his face. He doesn’t make any move to dislodge it, sitting there like a rock, tranquil at the bottom of a river. It’s an oddly familiar sight, and Sam is reminded of Bucky all the way down there, hopefully having dealt with the wizard by now.
Sam leans out of the door, spreading his wings to give him some lift. He feels weird giving the Soldier orders in this situation, having read the files of what HYDRA did to him to make him obey them.
“I’m going to fly down,” Sam says. “If you want - if you want - you can climb on and I’ll carry you down. Or you can make your own way down.”
The Winter Soldier looks past him. Looks at Sam.
He clambers over and grabs onto Sam’s arm.
Okay. Well, that’s a decision made.
Sam twists about to give the Soldier easier access to his back. He’s so close to his back and his wings, Sam can’t help but feel nervous about it all, but he’s committed now. He’s in this, and he can’t exactly back out, not unless he wants to make Bucky watch his past self get dropped onto the concrete like a semi-metal, half-murderous bag of flour.
He shifts a little to distribute the Soldier’s weight across his shoulders, and the Soldier shifts back, accommodating Sam’s movements. If this were back in the military, the Soldier would be a great partner. Some things haven’t changed in future Bucky, it seems.
“Okay, I’m going to fly us down now,” Sam says. The complete silence from the Soldier makes Sam feel the need to narrate to fill the gap. He kicks off from the crane. He spirals for a few seconds, gaining space away from the construction works.
The Soldier’s arms and legs tighten around him, and Sam tries to ignore what is very much the Soldier’s head tucking into his neck, nose brushing his skin.
They drop. Sam’s wings flare and catch them right at the very last second. He can’t dive and swoop, not without risking dropping the Soldier, but he does get them landed on the ground without too much of a rebound.
The Soldier uncurls around him and drops to the ground. Part of Sam misses the warm heat against his neck, now fully exposed to the mid-November winds coming right off the dock, but he’s not going to ask the Soldier to clamber back on.
“Fun ride, huh? You’re lucky. Normally, I would charge full price for that trip,” Sam says, utterly nonsensically.
The Winter Soldier stares at him.
This, at least, he’s used to.
Sam’s not entirely sure what to do now. Should he be arresting the Winter Soldier? Putting him in cuffs? It would certainly make Sam feel safer, but right now the Winter Soldier is just standing there, quietly and without any fuss. They’ve pushed enough civilians away from this area, so now it’s just heroes, and they can handle themselves.
Sam decides to leave it as it is. Trying to cuff the Winter Soldier might just provoke him into action anyway.
Bucky eventually ambles up, new burn marks on his uniform. His eyes land on the Winter Soldier and that’s where they stay.
“So,” Sam says, because it’s clear Bucky isn’t going to be the first to speak, “You deal with the wizard?”
“Strange has him now,” Bucky says, still not looking at Sam. The Winter Soldier stares back at him, not even a hint of recognition.
“He didn’t say what to do about this guy?”
Sam slaps the Winter Soldier on the shoulder.
It’s a default action for him, but it’s as his hand lands on that thick tactical jacket, he realises what a shit decision this was. He tries not to freeze, just gently removes his hand from the shoulder and tries to make it not look like he’s taking his foot off a loaded mine.
Bucky glares at him like he knows exactly what Sam is thinking.
Luckily, the Winter Soldier does not outwardly react, and Sam gets to keep his arm.
“The magic will wear off in a week or so, and he’ll go back,” Bucky says. He slides over to the Winter Soldier, battle stance ready. The Winter Soldier looks at Sam, mildly questioning. Sam does not know what that is supposed to mean.
And then what Bucky said registers.
“Wait, what? He’ll go back?” Sam asks.
“Yes,” Bucky says.
“I’m sorry, I thought you said something that made sense for a second. You mean he’s going back there?”
Bucky’s expression flattens even further, which Sam hadn’t thought possible a moment ago.
“It’s time travel, Sam. You want to rip a hole in the universe by making him stay?”
“No,” Sam grits out.
“Then he’s going back,” Bucky says. He looks at Sam, and his expression twists sadly, just a little. “He’ll get out eventually.”
Sam doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything.
He turns to the Winter Soldier and asks, “You get all that? You’ll be back there in a week. Nothing we can do to make it quicker.”
The Winter Soldier says nothing for all of two seconds, clearly processing that idea, before he says a simple “Understood.”
“You’re going to come with me.” And because Sam’s conscience is screaming at him right now, he adds, “That good?”
The Winter Soldier looks at him.
“I mean, I could find you a nice dark cave to stay in, if that’s more your style, but it might be nice to have somewhere with showers, yeah?”
The Winter Soldier’s brow crinkles.
“Yes,” he says uncertainly.
Great, now Sam is confusing the Soviet-era assassin.
A jet touches down in the nearest open space, and Sam gets the signal from Joaquin that it’s ready to set them off. Sam quickly sends a message informing Joaquin of their newest passenger. Joaquin, predictably, is excited. Not even a hint of self-preservation there.
Sam directs them to the jet. He lets the Winter Soldier get on first because Bucky is looking at him with that unnerving glare that means he has something to say to him.
“What?” Sam sighs.
“You’re going to put him in a cell when we get back to base, right? Because I’m getting the feeling you’re not, and I’m telling you now, this is a stupid idea,” Bucky says.
“It’s a good idea,” Sam argues, “He’s going back to hell, so why not let him live a bit better in the meantime?”
“Because he could kill you,” Bucky stresses. “You do remember that, don’t you? You didn’t have the same compunctions the first time around.”
“You weren't my partner the first time around,” Sam snaps.
Shit, that came off a bit stronger than he intended. Well, no going back now. It's not like it was a lie. He cares about Bucky, knows the truth of him, that he's a good man forced not to be. The most he knew about the Winter Soldier back then was that he was dangerous. Now, he can actually see what's missing in the Winter Soldier's behaviour, the life and personality that should be there that was duly, systematically stripped out.
He turns and heads up the ramp to the jet.
Inside, the Winter Soldier has already seated himself, quietly obedient. Joaquin sits at the controls, twisted around in his seat to stare at the Winter Soldier. It’s not at all subtle.
“Eyes front,” Sam says.
Joaquin begrudgingly twists back around.
Sam and Bucky buckle in. The doors close, and they pick off. The Winter Soldier sits across from them, still as a rock. It seems that being told what's happening, being given some semblance of orders, has calmed him down a lot.
Sam feels a slight rumble in his stomach and drags out a protein bar from one of the many pockets in the Cap suit. Something makes him look up, and he gets a face full of the Winter Soldier, trying his best not to look like he’s staring at the protein bar.
“Do you want one?” Sam asks, waving the protein bar at him. “It’s strawberry flavoured. It doesn’t taste great, but it, uh, has… 20g of protein.”
The Winter Soldier looks at him but does not say anything. It’s slightly unnerving, the pure desperation in his eyes, but no words to follow it.
Sam makes his best judgment and chucks him the protein bar. The Winter Soldier catches it and cradles it in his hands. Sam doesn’t try to look at him to see if he’s eating it.
He grabs another protein bar from his pocket and turns his attention to the Bucky beside him. He’s got his mouth set in a frown, jaw tight with tension.
“Do you want one?” Sam asks.
“No,” Bucky says.
Sam rips his one open. “Great talking with you, really.”
~
They land at the base, an old military structure left behind during the blip that Sam has now co-opted for Captain America duties. It’s nothing like the Avengers compound, but it works for a place where they need to plan whatever the hell they’re doing next. Or in this case, for hiding a time-displaced Winter Soldier in a way that won’t accidentally provoke an international incident.
The Winter Soldier slides out and stands next to the door when they land. He scans the landscape. Luckily, they’re in the middle of fucking nowhere, so there’s no one left to be a target.
Sam leads him inside and shows him one of the spare rooms. It’s an ensuite, complete with a bed, a sofa and a television. Enough for anyone trying to kill time while waiting for time magic to kick in. You would think Sam would be used to this after enough years with the Avengers, but nope, he is not.
The Winter Soldier stands awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“I’m going to go debrief with them, but if you need anything, you can ask me, okay?”
The Winter Soldier says nothing.
“That’s great,” Sam says, trying to sound cheerful. “Make yourself at home.”
Sam closes the door and takes a breath. It’s easier to breathe without that constant staring. Somehow, Bucky now makes it way less terrifying, and Sam never thought he would end up thinking that. Unfortunately, still hella attractive though. What can Sam say? He’s got a thing for stoic men.
Bucky and Joaquin made themselves at home in one of the meeting rooms. Bucky has an iPad out and Sam leans over and sees -
“Really?” Sam says, as he sees the familiar room he left just one second ago. “You know I have Redwing set to notify me if anything happens, don’t you?”
“Nothing wrong with a second pair of eyes, Sam,” Bucky says, as he watches the Winter Soldier continue to stand there.
“Why is he doing that, by the way?” Sam asks.
“Fear,” Bucky says. “Fear and confusion.”
“Fuck. Did I scare him?”
Bucky’s eyes finally flicker up off the iPad. “He’s not scared of you. It’s the whole thing. He wasn’t briefed for - “
“Time travel magic? Yeah, go figure,” Sam sighs. It’s not great that he’s terrified, but there’s not much that can be done about that. To be frank, Sam would be terrified too if he landed somewhere and didn’t recognise shit.
“He doesn’t seem like he’s going to attack, though,” Joaquin points out, “Sam’s doing a good job keeping him stable!”
Sam lets his chest puff out at the praise, and then is abruptly deflated when Bucky snorts at him.
“Hey, what is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Bucky mutters, going back to tapping on his iPad.
That was definitely not a ‘nothing’ sound. That was one hundred per cent a ‘something’. But right now is not the time to delve into whatever this is, so Sam moves past it. Has to move past it. Is definitely not going to be thinking about whatever Bucky meant for hours more. Whatever.
“No images leaked, did they?” Sam asks Joaquin.
“Nope!” He chirps. “Area was closed down before he got there, no one was close enough to snap a pic.”
Sam rubs the bridge of his nose. “At least that’s something. So we really just sit this out? Wait for him to vanish?”
“That’s what the wizard said,” Bucky says. He looks up at Sam, treating him with his solemn, serious gaze. “Don’t think about it too much. We can’t change anything. You know that.”
Great. Sam didn’t think his own silent grudge against this entire situation was that obvious, but apparently it is.
“Well, I’m going to entertain our visitor,” Sam says, pulling himself out of his chair. At least the Winter Soldier isn’t calling Sam out for what he is, the filthy coward who’s just letting the prisoner of war go back to being a prisoner of war just because Sam doesn’t understand the irritating bullshit that is time travel.
~
Sam likes to think he’s respecting the Winter Soldier’s boundaries as much as he can when Bucky is spying on him through the overhead cameras, so he knocks on the door.
There’s no response.
Before he can even begin to worry, he gets a message.
Bucky.
‘You can go in.’
He considers the ethics of ignoring one person’s possible signal to be left alone against the weight of literally themselves from the future saying otherwise. Sam decides to go in. Maybe it’s curiosity, maybe he’s feeling bad about the whole ‘winter soldier is terrified’ thing, it doesn’t matter.
He pushes open the door.
The bedroom is empty. The bathroom door looks closed, but it’s the only hidden space large enough for the Winter Soldier to fit in. Bucky wouldn’t have told Sam he could go in if something intimately personal was going on in there.
Sam takes the leap, and opens the door.
The first thing he sees is a fully clothed Winter Soldier pressed tightly in the corner of the bathtub, back to the wall and knees up. His eyes peek out of his mess of hair, not even blinking.
This is weird, but Sam’s got a pretty good handle on weird, so he decides to play it cool.
“Hey, thought you might want some company. Must be pretty strange for you, right?”
The Winter Soldier says nothing. Sam is not a stranger to barging through awkward silences, so he decides to persevere. That’s one thing he’s learnt with Bucky. Just because he’s being silent doesn’t mean he doesn’t want anyone to talk to him.
On an impulse that Bucky will definitely berate him for later, Sam clambers into the bathtub. There’s something about looming above the Winter Soldier from above that puts Sam on edge. It’s better when he’s not looking down on him, eye contact on head level.
The Winter Soldier continues to say nothing, but his eyes twist in what has to be confusion.
“How are you finding your digs? The bed not comfortable enough?”
The Winter Soldier raises his head so his mouth is no longer hidden behind his knees.
“… I don’t understand,” he says cautiously.
That’s a broad statement, with a broad intent. Hard to answer, so Sam goes with what he thinks is best.
“We want to help you out before you get sent back on your mission. We’re like, uh, helpers. Here to help you sustain yourself until you’re needed.”
“Why not put me in cryo until then?” The Winter Soldier asks, matter-of-factly.
Sam tries not to let the fact that he’s disturbed by how easily he’s referring to himself as a thing that should just be put in storage when he’s not needed, and flails about for an answer.
“We don’t do that sort of thing. This room, this is your accommodation. No cryo.”
The Winter Soldier nods, like he’s taking the information in and trying to make it pass muster. His eyes skate down Sam’s chest, past the red, white and blue stripes he’s still wearing because he hadn’t had a chance to change.
“Do I know you?” He asks.
Sam swallows down the lump of guilt. Steve’s gone, and he’s accepted that, but this Winter Soldier has never got the chance to meet him. He will, eventually, if things go as Strange said, but it doesn’t change the weird feeling to know who exactly the Winter Soldier believes he’s remembering, and failing to.
“No,” Sam says gently. “You don’t.”
The Winter Soldier’s eyes still remain scrunched, and Sam’s words feel suddenly worthless.
“It’s the suit,” he babbles. “It’s based on the American Flag, so that’s why you recognise it.”
Not really a lie. Ish.
It makes the Winter Soldier look a tiny bit less confused, though, not having one of the few statements he’s made on his own entirely rebuked.
“Do you want to see what’s on TV? We’ve got all the channels wired up down here,” Sam coaxes. It’s mostly a selfish impulse, as the bathtub is digging into his back in a way he knows will linger.
The Winter Soldier doesn’t say anything, but gets out of the bath anyway. Sam is going to take that as a win.
He put on the latest ESPN channel. He’s seen Bucky get into it, and it’s not like Sam is going to show him the news.
The Winter Soldier stands in the middle of the room, watching the screen from there, while Sam settles himself on the bed. He hoped that the Winter Soldier would see the gesture and realise that he too can sit on the bed, but it feels like a long shot.
“This is all yours, alright?” Sam pats the bed. “This too. You can use it how you wish.”
The Winter Soldier looks at him, and then at the bed. Ever so slowly, he sits himself down. His posture is rigid as a ruler, but he’s down.
A cheer rises from the TV. Someone just scored a goal.
They watch for a bit, the Winter Soldier’s eyes locked onto the screen. It’s hard to tell if he’s even enjoying it, but it’s keeping him engaged with something at least. Hopefully, it’s making him even slightly less scared.
Sam’s still in his Cap suit, and the Winter Soldier is still in his tac gear, and they’re almost definitely getting dirt across the bed, but it feels peaceful. As peaceful as it could get in this current state of affairs.
Until Bucky enters the room.
It goes from 0 to 100 in a matter of seconds. The Winter Soldier jumps up and pins Bucky against the wall, metal arm across his throat. Bucky freezes against the wall, gripping tight onto the Soldier’s elbow. He doesn’t fight back. Just looks at Sam with an expression that clearly reads ‘do something’.
Sam doesn’t know why he’s suddenly the invigilator in this. He’s the only human, the only one not jumped on whatever crap HYDRA formulated to dump in Bucky’s veins.
“Stop, stop it!” he calls as he clambers over. He rests one hand on the Winter Soldier’s shoulder. He doesn’t even try to tug him back, knowing it would be a futile effort.
“He’s not going to attack, alright? Stand down,” Sam says firmly, more firmly than the sweat sliding down his back would belie.
The Winter Soldier looks at him, and slowly, heart-wrenchingly slowly, lets go of Bucky. There’s a red mark left on his neck. Bucky does not reach up to rub at it, but simply steps back, leaving space between them.
“Strange is trying to call us back. Says he has new intel.”
Sam feels shivery all over, his body prepping for a fight that never came.
“Strange? Sure, okay. Let’s talk to Strange,” Sam says, half out of his mind. The Winter Soldier is just standing there, glaring at Bucky.
“I’m going to come back, but for now, just stay here. Okay?”
“Understood,” the Winter Soldier snarls.
There was a lot more venom in that answer than Sam really needed, but okay. Fine. If it’s Strange, he might have something to help with this whole thing. When they leave, he sees Bucky tap the iPad to lock the fortified door on the Winter Soldier, and after that display, he can't blame him.
They enter the meeting room. There’s a ghostly projection of Strange in the middle of the room. He’s not even looking at them, but rather looking through the pages of thick, leather-bound tomes.
“Strange,” Sam calls, “This better be important.”
Strange whisks away a book, and it flies - literally flies - out of his fingers. He swirls his wrist, and a stone floats out of his long sleeves and into the air.
“I wouldn’t waste my time talking to you if it wasn’t important,” Strange says, “This is what the wizard used to drag the Winter Soldier out of his proper timeline. From my understanding, without the Winter Soldier returning to his rightful place, both our time and his would be destroyed.”
“Destroyed?” Sam blurts. “You didn’t mention that before.”
“It wasn’t going to be relevant,” Strange snaps.
“Relevant? I think that’s fairly relevant - “
“Sam,” Bucky interrupts, and Sam subsides. Fucking wizards. Acting like what they know is above human comprehension, just because it’s ‘magic’.”
Strange makes a motion, and a line appears in his hands. It twists and winds, moving as if alive.
“When we defeated Thanos, this was my understanding of time. One timeline. You can move back and forth on that timeline, but if any change occurs where it shouldn’t, well, this is the outcome.”
Strange flicks his fingers, and a shoot grows out from the line. It weaves into the air, growing further and further, until suddenly, it blackens and dies. It dissipates into nothingness, only fragments of dust. Only the single line remains.
“This is what would have happened to us if the Winter Soldier had not returned to where he came from,” Strange explains.
“He’s going back,” Bucky says. “You said the magic would do that.”
“And it would, by default,” Strange says, “But now, something has happened to time. Now, what would happen is this.”
Strange makes the same motion, and the shoot grows. Sam watches it grow, waits for the moment of destruction.
It never comes.
It keeps growing.
More and more shoots break off from it, a stem growing into a mess of interweaving branches. It grows and grows, but never falters, not until there’s a sea of individual lines, impossible to distinguish from each other.
“Okay, that’s very beautiful, but what does that mean?” Sam asks.
“Change can occur,” Strange says. “Not just can but is. Every choice we make, everything we do, new time is branched off. New worlds. And they’re sustaining, not being destroyed. I thought it was just a natural effect of time, but it wasn’t. Something was making that happen. And now whatever that something was, it’s stopped.”
Sam processes what that means. Thinks about it. Mulls it over.
“You mean that the Winter Soldier doesn’t have to go back,” Sam says. “None of that has to happen to him.”
Strange claps his hands, and the lines disappear entirely. “Exactly.”
Sam looks at Bucky. He has to know what he’s thinking. His brow is scrunched, lips pressed tight together, and it’s so similar to the confused expression of the Winter Soldier downstairs that the image of him is practically superimposed over Bucky.
“Bucky, we can save him. We can get him out early.”
Bucky's jaw flexes.
“Okay,” he mumbles.
It’s not much, but it’s enough. It’s as much as Sam knows Bucky can get out right now.
He ends the call with Strange. They have a plan now, a real plan rather than just sitting on their asses and waiting. Strange will set up a way of plopping the Winter Soldier back into his own timeline, just in a location where he will be safe, where HYDRA can’t find him, and more importantly, where there are people around who can stop him from finding HYDRA. It’s not ideal, not being able to see if it will even work for him, but they can’t leave the Winter Soldier in their own timeline.
Theoretically, they could. However, that would eventually leave two Bucky Barnes running around, and Sam isn’t even going to try convincing him that’s a good idea.
Bucky himself has been notoriously quiet this whole time. Sam wants to pull him aside, get a stance on what he’s thinking, but Strange told Sam to prep the Winter Soldier and bring him up here, and that is the priority right now. He'll talk to Bucky later. Just only when there's only one Bucky left in the building.
Sam drags himself away and heads down to the Winter Soldier’s room. He pushes open the door to the sounds of tinny screaming - right, the game is still on - and the Winter Soldier immediately twists around to face him.
“Good news! You’re going back.”
The immediate reaction is not exactly what Sam would call a good one.
The Winter Soldier’s eyes widen, and his breathing picks up. His hands, flat on the bedsheet, curl into the fabric.
Sam runs back what he just said, suppresses a wince. He never got the hint that the Winter Soldier was aware enough of his position to hate being with HYDRA, but maybe in the moments of downtime when he wasn’t in the adrenaline-soaked rush of a mission, he did want out.
“Hey, hey, you’re not going back to HYDRA,” Sam says. “Just back, in the general sense. You’re going back to America. Heard of a Peggy Carter?”
The baffled, blank look tells Sam that the Winter Soldier has definitely not remembered Peggy Carter.
“She’s not with HYDRA, okay? She’s the best option you’ve got currently to stay out of HYDRA’s hands.”
The Winter Soldier breaks eye contact, stares at the floor.
“I like it here,” he says morosely.
That’s not… Sam doesn’t know what to do with that. The Winter Soldier has only been here for approximately two hours, and part of that was spent shooting at them from above.
Sam steps into the room, sits down next to the Winter Soldier.
“I’m sorry, but this was always going to be temporary,” he says, trying to display as much honesty as he legitimately feels right now.
“Understood,” the Winter Soldier says.
This isn’t Bucky, and Sam can clearly remember exactly what he told Steve after they got their asses kicked by the Winter Soldier the first time, but he can’t stop the way his heart lurches for this man who so obviously doesn’t believe he has any choice in this matter.
“Look, if you really don’t want to go, we can find another way,” Sam says.
The Winter Soldier doesn’t say anything for a good minute, heavy breathing and continuing to stare at the ground.
The game continues to cheer on, and Sam reaches to flick it off. It’s almost too much, too much noise and stimulation in this tight, now claustrophobic room. The single room is bigger than Sam’s studio apartment he had to rent right after leaving the military, but it doesn’t feel that way, not with the tight compression of guilt around his lungs.
Finally, the Winter Soldier looks up, and their eyes meet.
“Understood,” he says firmly, no hint of worry.
It’s not the sign of complete confidence that Sam may want, but he can recognise that’s the best he’s going to get right now. The Winter Soldier is trying to show that he trusts Sam in whatever way he can.
At least, he hopes it’s that. He can’t push back anymore, not now when the Winter Soldier has actually given an answer in full faith. This is a tricky tightrope of questioning agency and obedience, and Sam doesn’t know if he’s able to cross it without a slip. Maybe there’s something he’s missing, another way of communicating he could figure out if he was just better than this, but he can’t, and there isn’t time besides.
“Alright,” Sam says. It’s the best they can do for the Winter Soldier, but it still feels like so fucking little.
~
Strange has set up the portal, finally deeming it time to arrive here in person to do so. It’s a swirling green behemoth, and Sam imagines it’s the colour of space vomit. Or what space vomit could be.
In all, it’s not the most appealing thing to be walking into.
The Winter Soldier’s tense expression says that he agrees.
“He should land directly in that woman’s house in the exact year he left. No cameras, no spying eyes.” Strange gestures at the portal. “Now hop in.”
“That ‘woman’ is Peggy Carter. You’re sending him to the correct house, right?” Sam eyes the green pool with disdain.
Strange waves his hand at him. “Yes, yes, her, brown hair, leader of SHIELD, that one. Now, shoo. There’s a creature attacking the boundaries of the Nth dimension, and in around five minutes, that’s going to be a higher priority than dealing with this.”
This is exactly why Sam likes to stray away from dealing with wizards. Earthly concerns are always so unimportant to them.
He turns to the Winter Soldier and checks him over. He has everything he came in with, which, as much as it may cause Peggy to panic, is better than the alternative of a time-displaced gun infecting them with wrong timeline radiation. Or something.
Again, Sam is not a wizard or a tech genius. He’s a guy who fights for the people who can’t fight back, who speaks up when they need a voice. That’s who he is, not the man who can understand all this stuff.
“I am ready,” the Winter Soldier says for Sam’s sake.
“Just remember, Peggy is not a threat to you, okay? It’s going to be confusing for you at first, but you have to let whatever will happen, happen. It’ll turn out okay.”
“I understand,” the Winter Soldier says. Sam isn’t sure he’s hearing him right, but there may be a tiny hint of exasperation in his voice. Fine, maybe Sam’s been pushing too much.
“Okay.” Sam steps back.
Bucky darts in and presses a folded white piece of paper into the Soldier’s hand.
“Give this to Peggy, okay? As soon as you can.” Bucky steps back, and the Soldier’s fingers clench tight around the paper.
Sam opens his mouth to ask what the hell that is, but Bucky shoots him a glar,e and he obediently shuts his mouth tight.
The Winter Soldier adjusts his equipment and steps into the portal. Right before he disappears into the green, Sam swears the Winter Soldier looks straight at him.
But then he’s gone, and the portals shut, and the moment is over.
Strange portals off in his own way, and that’s it.
Sam feels the wave of exhaustion ready to crash over him. It takes something out of him, being so tense, trying to figure out the right thing to say when the consequences matter so much.
“Before we debrief all of that, I need a shower,” Sam says.
Bucky nods, not saying anything.
That, too, he’ll need to deal with after the shower.
Sam wraps himself in warm sweats and heads down to the kitchen. He can’t stop mulling over that moment when the Winter Soldier slammed Bucky into the wall. Nothing had happened to provoke him, so why’d he do it?
The Winter Soldier hadn’t done anything like that to Sam, not after he’d gotten him to stop shooting at them. After that, he’d been perfectly peaceful. So, what had happened?
Sam preps himself a protein shake, and nearly jumps when Bucky silently enters the room.
“Jesus, give me some warning next time.” At least Sam didn’t spill any of the shake.
“I just entered the room. That’s your own fault,” Bucky snaps. And wow, the tension emanating from Bucky is of the likes Sam has never seen. He’s seen Bucky rightfully angry, seen Bucky pissed he’s losing a fight, but never seen him like this. Sam doesn’t even know how to describe it, this deep, heavy emotion hanging over him like a thunder cloud.
“Okay,” Sam says slowly. “Sounds like you have something on your mind. Care to share, rather than biting at me?”
Bucky opens the fridge door. Drinks rattle in the shelves as he slams it shut. It's not hard enough to break anything, but it never is. That's the kind of person Bucky is, steadfastly controlled even when pissed.
He pulls out a beer that Sam knows doesn’t do anything for his metabolism and swings himself into a chair.
“Missing him already, huh?” Bucky waves the beer bottle at Sam.
“Huh?” Sam echoes. “You think I’m missing the Winter Soldier?”
“You seemed pretty attached to him down there.” Bucky takes a swig of beer. Sam’s never seen anyone able to make drinking a beer look angry, and he’s almost impressed.
“I wasn’t just going to leave him there, with no supervision.”
“I was supervising him, Sam,” Bucky presses. "I had cameras on him at all time, and complete control of his environment."
Sam crosses his arms. Shrugs.
“Okay, fine, you had that handled. But maybe I didn’t want him to be sitting there scared of what we were going to do next.”
Bucky puts his bottle down with a loud clunk.
“That’s exactly what he’s used to! It wouldn’t have meant anything different to put him in a cell and leave him.”
Sam stares at him. Thinks about it. Decides that this argument must be about something else than what Bucky is actually saying, or else Bucky isn’t the moral man Sam thought he really was.
“Maybe we owe it to him to do better than what he’s ‘used to’,” Sam says sourly.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bucky sighs. He gets up from his chair and heads towards the door. “It doesn’t matter.”
Sam catches him by the elbow. “My partner is upset, so yeah, it matters.”
Bucky stills. Sam’s strength is not enough to really pin him down, so they both know that Sam’s grip is only there because Bucky is allowing it. Bucky could walk off as far as he wanted, and Sam would let him. Be royally pissed about it, but let him be all the same.
“Is this about when he slammed you against the door?” Sam ventures, when enough time passes that it’s clear Bucky’s not leaving.
Bucky snorts.
“Okay, fine, maybe it’s not that, but what the hell was up with that?” A thought occurs. “Did you do something to him that I didn’t notice?”
“What? No!” Bucky starts. “You want to know why, huh?
“Yes, Bucky, I do,” Sam says, finally letting go of his arm. “That’s why I’m asking all these questions. Because I want you to tell me rather than hoping I’ll just pick it up off you by osmosis.”
“He slammed me against the wall because he liked you, and he thought I was a danger to you,” Bucky says, matter-of-fact and even. Almost entirely straight-faced, if not for the fact that he broke eye contact with Sam almost immediately. “Happy now?”
“What do you mean ‘liked’? Sam asks.
“You know what I mean, Sam.”
Sam thinks it over. The Winter Soldier was here for such a small amount of time, it has to be impossible. But for him, a small amount of time is a significant amount of his own aware life.
And the Winter Soldier did seem oddly passive, despite not having any indication they were HYDRA or HYDRA-related.
But that just leaves one thing.
“Why would he like me?” Sam blurts. As far as Sam knows, Bucky has never liked anyone. The Winter Soldier? Even less likely that he would. Sam has tried to gauge Bucky's romantic or sexual interest, but it's been like running into a brick wall. To think it would only take a couple hours for the Winter Soldier to get attached to him? That's crazy.
“Do you really need me to run through your massive list of positive qualities? I don’t know if that kind of thing is good for your ego.”
Sam scowls at him. It doesn’t seem like Bucky’s going to back down on that statement, though, so he clearly must mean it.
“But how do you know that? You barely talked to him.”
Bucky looks at Sam with his signature look that reads ‘I thought you were smarter than that’.
“Sam, he’s me.”
Sam squints at him.
It dawns on him, like the first sun rising on an arctic winter.
“You’re jealous,” he says, “You’re jealous because he liked me, and you like me, and I was giving him - you - more attention than you - now you.”
“What?” Bucky says, and fair enough, what Sam said didn’t entirely make sense.
“Bucky, you are an idiot,” Sam informs him.
Bucky’s face scrunches up like he’s being made fun of. This is not the circumstances Sam would have envisioned this going, not one bit, but hey. Gotta take the leap, right?
He leans forward, cupping a hand around the back of Bucky’s neck. His lips touch his and for a moment, they connect. They kiss.
Sam breaks away, and says, “Do you get it? I like you, you dumbass. All of you. Including the you that was downstairs.”
Bucky blinks at him, and because he’s him, says, “Can we do that again? I was distracted by trying to understand that last thing you said.”
Sam rolls his eyes, but complies.
It’s been a long time coming, but finally, it lands. And it sure feels good when it does.