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Sam’s reading the papers while spooning scrambled eggs into his mouth, and Bucky’s on his second cup of coffee, idly scrolling through his phone and telling Sam, “You realize this is yesterday’s news, right?”
Sam ignores him, because they’ve had this conversation before and he doesn’t really want to rehash what it comes down to.
Which is that Sam likes the feeling of the physical paper between his fingers, and he will never not, even if Bucky’s always bitching about the papers piling up and how much the subscriptions to the three papers Sam requires cost.
Maybe Sam shouldn’t have insisted it come out of the household budget, but so does the budget to take care of Bucky’s dumb household plants, and Sam only complained about that a few times.
That the household budget mostly comes from Bucky is kind of also besides the point, which - “Hey, how come you have money.”
Bucky lifts his head: “You’re asking me this now? After the all-expenses paid trip to Peru?”
“Well I’ve been curious about it, I just didn’t think it was appropriate back then to ask you.”
“Define the difference between then and now.”
“I’m more comfortable with you now.”
“Really? We were having sex then too,” Bucky pauses. “More than we are now, actually.”
“We can have sex after breakfast if you want.” Sam turns the page of his paper and waits for the answer.
He can almost hear Bucky's mind whirring, but all he says is: “So more comfort means more invasive personal questions?”
“Yes, and you’re deflecting.”
“I’m not deflecting.”
“You’re not answering the question.”
Bucky purses his lips. “HYDRA,” he says finally. “I figured they owed me, for everything. So I broke into an abandoned safe house while I was on the run and appropriated access to some funds. A lot of funds.”
“Ah,” Sam says. “That would explain it. Huh, there was an earthquake in Japan.”
“What, that’s all you’re going to say? You don’t have an opinion?”
Sam lifts his head, and Bucky looks expectant, as if he thinks a lecture is incoming or something. Sometimes Sam wonders if Bucky knows him at all.
Well, mostly Sam knows Bucky knows him enough, but it’s a process of discovery, and neither of them are very good at talking about things that matter, so it’s a slow process. Worthwhile though. It’s Bucky, so it’s worth the while.
“You were forced to do their labor for decades. That’s worth a lot of back pay, I’d say,” Sam says.
“Ah,” Bucky says, sounding surprised. And then a second later he nods, and returns back to his phone. Perceptive, and one of the many reasons why he’s worth the while. A few more seconds later he’s kissing Sam, though, and then bodily lifting him from his chair, depriving him of his breakfast.
“I said after,” Sam mumbles against Bucky's lips, but he’s ignored.
*
They end up fucking away most of the morning, the Louisiana heat sapping Sam’s energy, making him pliant and receptive, while having the opposite effect on Bucky, his intensity and own body heat almost too much for Sam to tolerate. But it’s just almost.
Sam calls a bathroom break at some point, then on the way back decides to turn on the AC, because he’s too hot for this shit despite Bucky’s propensity toward warmth and him inevitably grabbing the remote at some point and savagely turning it off, as if it’s Sam’s fault he was cryo frozen for seventy years.
On impulse, he detours to the kitchen for ice cream, then glances at Bucky’s phone, which is ringing. Rhodes. It stops, and Sam taps in Bucky's passcode to unlock it, to see a barrage of messages and missed calls. Rhodes. Banner. Goes to the living room to hunt for his own phone, and it’s the same. He picks up as Rhodes calls Sam’s phone now: "What’s the emergency?”
“Sent you a video, but it’s everywhere. We’ve been trying to reach you for ages. Both of you.”
“Sorry, man. Busy.” He doesn’t elaborate, even though he senses the desire on Rhodes’ part for an explanation. What’s there to say anyway? Too busy fucking to check the bat-signals? Rhodes knows they live together but has never asked if they’re together; Sam doubts the question will arise at any point soon.
“If Barnes is around, put me on video?”
“Yeah, I’ll just put you on speaker,” Sam says, as he walks back into the bedroom, putting a finger to his mouth as Bucky opens his mouth on an inevitable whine. Bucky raises a brow and Sam shrugs as he tosses him his own phone.
Bucky frowns at it in consternation as Rhodes says, “So since this happened like five hours ago I’m assuming it’s not you.”
Sam doesn’t get it, and then Bucky starts to play the video he’d been sent, and he still doesn’t get it for a hot moment.
Watching the Winter Soldier, machine gun in hand, destroy police cars in downtown New York. An old video? But then there’s a winged man, with what looks like actual wings, swooping above him, arms extended as his own weapons fire. The video focuses briefly on the man’s face. And it’s Sam’s face, except it’s not. Sam’s body, except it’s not.
“What the hell,” Sam says.
Bucky’s frown deepens.
“Think you both better come to New York. I’ll arrange for transport.”
“Yeah, alright.”
*
They’re not Avengers, not officially.
Mostly since there are no Avengers left anymore. Not the original ones anyway.
Sam had vague plans, at first, to build a team, but it’s been one crisis after another, mopping up after the Flag Smashers, dealing with the aftermath of the repeal of the Global Repatriation Act. Figures they’ll get around to the team at some point, when they desperately need that additional help.
He still gets calls from the government, but with Bucky by his side he can choose which mission he wants to take and which he doesn’t. Bucky has Opinions on the use of Sam’s time, and Sam would argue with him except he’s usually right, and Sam trusts his judgment.
But there's no question on whether they'll go this time or not. Not when Bucky's staring at the video, pale as Sam's ever seen him, wide-eyed.
"That's us," he says, and he sounds like Sam's never heard him before. Sounds shaken.
Sam's worked with the man for close to a year, lived with him for six months, been sleeping with him for almost eight. Bucky's hot-headed sometimes, impulsive always. But he doesn't shake; nothing surprises him, or unnerves him. He's never afraid. Sam takes the phone from him, says: "It isn't, though."
"Yeah, but it is." Bucky shakes his head, and Sam wants to say something else, but hears the whirl of a quinjet descending outside.
"Come on," Sam says. "Our ride's here."
*
They’re flown to a high-rise in downtown NYC. Bruce Banner's waiting for them on the roof, with Rhodes by his side. Sam shakes hands with Rhodes, and then Banner.
Bucky just glares mutely at them both. God knows what he’s thinking. Sam puts a hand on his elbow, just briefly. Receives a sniff and a nod in return.
“I’ve been meaning to call, Sam - or should I call you Cap,” Banner says.
“Anything’s fine,” Sam says.
Bucky rolls his eyes. Sam still sometimes feels Cap’s Steve, but Bucky always disagrees.
Sam doesn’t really know why: it’s not like Sam’s about to give up the shield at any point. “Right, so. Cap, you saw the video right?” Banner says as they’re led into a lift.
“Yeah. Where are we, by the way,” Sam asks, glancing at the various lift buttons as if he could decipher what they mean.
“Stark research lab. Tony kinda left it to me so I’ve been working here. But Stark industries’ kinda been-“
“Yeah, I heard.” Not that it doesn’t affect Sam, or he doesn’t care, but everything’s a fucking mess right now. Beyond mopping up, he's also been busy moving in with Bucky, which took a while mainly because Bucky’s a paranoid head case and Sam has very particular kitchen and backyard needs.
The house they have now is great though. Family-sized kitchen, near enough to the family for them to drop by frequently, and both him and Bucky agree it’s as secure as any house can possibly be.
Although, as Sam pointed out to Bucky, having the Winter Soldier on guard has gotta be a pretty great deterrent for whomever might want to come after them. Them including Sarah and the boys - a much bigger worry to Sam than his own self. Being Cap is a far bigger deal than being the Falcon. Sam can handle whatever nonsense thrown at him, but his family, that keeps him up at night. His community, that keeps him up at night.
The house being so great is both nice and terrible though, because it means Bucky never wants to leave, but Sam can only pretend he enjoys slow domesticity for so long before he starts to feel creeping boredom and cabin fever.
Even if Bucky may just be the one person he’d be willing to do slow domesticity with.
"So I've been studying the multiverse phenomena that’s been cropping up," Banner says, as they head down in the lift.
"Yeah, I heard about that. Isn't that Strange's problem? Oh and why aren’t you green anymore?” The last time Sam had seen Banner had been at Stark's funeral; it's been a while.
“Ah, the big guy and I had a, let’s just say we decided to try something else for a bit, and then I built something to help keep me human - it’s a long story.”
“Sure,” Sam says. The lift opens up to a very big, very decked out lab. Various people scurrying around, looking serious.
“Strange is, well. We kinda don't know where he is right now, actually. Something to do with Wanda."
Wanda.
Sam's reached out to her a few times, since they came back, but she never reached back, and then life just got in the way. He swallows a spark of guilt, even though they were never very close. Not like Nat, or Steve. But she was just a kid, that's all. Shaped by war and tragedy, and then immeasurable loss. "What happened with Wanda," Sam asks, and can feel Bucky's gaze land on his; his awareness of the tightness in Sam's voice is reassuring.
"I don't really know either. Strange could tell you, but again, he's gone.“
"So Strange made a mess, and now what, parallel dimension versions of us have come to New York, and he's not around so you called us to fix it?" And that's Bucky, and from the sharpness in his voice Sam can tell he is Not Impressed.
"Sergeant Barnes, it's been a while," Rhodes says.
Bucky's face flattens. "I don't know either one of you. But this is bullshit."
"Wow," Banner says, and blinks gormlessly, turning to Sam.
Sam just shrugs; he's not Bucky's keeper. In any case, Bucky's not wrong. This is, in fact, bullshit.
"Sorry, ah," Banner continues, in the end, as they step out of the lift into what looks like a giant lab. "But we really could use your help."
There’s a video playing on a screen in the middle. Not the same one Rhodes sent them, a different one. Same two guys though. Sam walks to it and watches the soldiers take down several SWAT team members with ease.
Watches himself flying, slow and deadly, over them. Wings the darkest shade of red.
Sam had often idly wondered what it would be like to have real wings; you can’t not when you have mechanical ones strapped to your back that give you flight.
But not like this - somehow, he suspects this version of him wouldn’t have volunteered for this.
He can’t imagine any version of himself volunteering to be HYDRA’s. If they are even HYDRA.
They could be anyone, really. Or anyone’s.
“When was this," Bucky asks.
“Yesterday. We don’t know where they are now.”
“A guy with wings and another with a metal arm - surely it shouldn’t be too hard to find them.”
“Honestly, this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s happened this year in New York," Rhodes says. "People are kind of inured to it at this point. Which is both good and bad for us.”
“So you want us to kill them,” Bucky says.
Sam turns to Rhodes, then to Banner. “We’re not killing anyone.”
“We didn’t call you here to kill them. We need to send them back to their universe," Banner says. "Strange did it a few months ago, but since he’s not here now we have to figure out how to do it without magic.”
“Magic,” Sam says. He mouths wizard at Bucky, who growls and shakes his head.
Bucky returns to the video. He slides his fingers across the touch screen, trying out controls for a while, and then pauses the video, zooms in. Banner starts in surprise, but Sam just leans forward. At his own face, blank and relentless, although Sam can’t tell if it’s just the goggles that make other him look so - dead.
He has locs, Sam notes distantly, even as he shudders inwardly. Locs, and a HYDRA insignia burnt into the side of his face. It’s very small, next to the ear and right below the goggles, but unmistakable.
Sam staggers back a little, but Bucky’s already zooming out, moving to the version of his own self. Finds the same brand above the soldier’s mask.
“So I guess we know who they belong to,” Bucky says, very flat.
*
Bucky says, when circumstances take a turn, or when the Winter Soldier found himself in an unexpected situation, his directive was always to return to the nearest HYDRA base. “So where’s the nearest HYDRA base?”
“There are five in New York. But they’re all gone now. Or not operational.”
“You know this for sure,” Rhodes asks.
“I disabled them myself, so yeah. They’ll keep going until they find one where someone can debrief them, put them back into storage.”
“But we don’t even know if the bases in that universe are the same as the ones here. Or even that they’re,” and at this Sam has to pause. “That they’re like you, that they were brainwashed.”
“I don’t see you in any universe volunteering to be HYDRA’s,” Bucky says, and the set of his jaw means that he won’t accept any disagreement.
“So how does it work, exactly,” Banner's face has taken on the shine of someone very interested in the Science of Brainwashing. “How much autonomy do they have?”
“If they’re anything like I was, enough. Brainwashing and indoctrination; it won’t be easy to stop them.”
“It’s fascinating, the thought that you could program a human being like a computer. The tech seems crude though, I’ve seen notes. But what was done with the Widows, now that-“
“The HYDRA there might not be anything like the HYDRA here,” Sam interrupts, because Bucky’s face has started to tighten, which isn’t good. Sam’s not sure what’ll happen if Bucky threatens or attacks Banner, but he’s very much certain he doesn’t want to find out.
“Do the good guys often mow down cops in broad daylight,” Bucky says.
“Depends on the cops,” Sam says, and allows a smile to come to his face.
Bucky’s snort says he knows what Sam is doing, and is unimpressed.
“Sam’s right though, we don’t know if the bases are the same here, even. But it wouldn’t hurt to check them out,” Banner says.
“Yeah, probably not.” Sam rubs his palm wearily across the back of his neck. “It’s 3am. Tomorrow morning, then. Draw up a list, Buck. On order of likelihood.”
“Yeah, alright,” Bucky says, and finally the tension in his shoulders bleeds away.
“There are rooms for you if you need to rest,” Banner says, turning back to his computer. “I’m trying to keep the authorities out of this because enough people are dead already, and in any case I doubt they’re equipped to handle this.”
Rhodes steps over to Sam, as they head back to the lift. “He’s got a short fuse,” he tells Sam, very casual, out of earshot from Bucky.
“He’s good, it’s all good.” At Rhodes’ look Sam smiles a little. “It’s never been a problem.”
“It’s never been this personal, I figure.” But he squeezes Sam’s shoulder, then raises his voice, tells Bucky: “I'm glad you’re here, Sergeant Barnes. You’re about the closest we have to an expert on these guys we have.”
A muscle in Bucky's jaw twitches, but he doesn’t say anything. Just leans against a lift wall, stares blankly into space.
*
They’ve been assigned a room next to one another. Bucky just follows Sam into his, and it’s huge, the bed very inviting, but Sam doubts they’ll be here much, or get to sleep much, so it’s mostly irrelevant. Still, Sam appreciates it.
Wipes his eyes blearily as Bucky beelines for the bar counter in the corner. Pours a glass of whiskey and passes it to Sam, who takes it and sits heavily down on the couch. “You good,” Sam asks, taking a sip.
Bucky shrugs. Takes the glass from him and downs it, then sits next to Sam. “You?”
“Been better,” Sam says. “It must be rough, seeing a version of you in Winter Soldier mode."
Sam can’t process his own feelings about it, honestly.
The man looked exactly like Bucky as the Winter Soldier. And the Falcon looks exactly like Sam.
Sam thinks if he starts to ask questions - like where the Falcon was born, does he have family - he won't be able to handle it; trying to think about a completely different world where a version of himself was taken like that is too much.
“We should kill them,” Bucky says. “They’re dangerous.”
“We can't do that, not if they’re like you. And I’m pretty sure they’re like you.”
“Yeah, and if you had killed me then, or if Steve had, I would have deserved it." He takes a deep breath, shudders.
“That’s not how it works. You don’t get to decide - it’s not up to you who gets saved. Steve would-“
“Steve almost died on that helicarrier because of me, because he wouldn’t hurt me, and what, you’re gonna be that dumb?” Bucky sounds completely gobsmacked.
“Yeah, well. You’ve told me several times how completely dumb I am, so yeah.”
"It bears repeating."
“Think we’re both pretty stupid,” Sam says, sighing. “It doesn’t have to come to that though. If they had no choice, we have to try to save them. I told Steve once, I didn’t think you could be saved, that maybe you were the kind you stopped. I’ve never been that wrong, and I never want to be that wrong again.”
“You might have been better off without me.”
“True. I mean God knows it would be nice not to have to deal with you singing loudly off-key in the shower, or that aggravating yelling thing you do whenever you don’t get your way, or-“ he can’t finish speaking because Bucky’s kissing him, pushing him down onto the couch. “See, now you’re molesting me. I can’t catch a break here.” Bucky continues ignoring Sam as he whines, rucks up his T-shirt to kiss his belly, bite down lightly on his trembling flesh.
He lifts his head after a moment though. Cheeks flushed but gaze thoughtful. “Okay, we do it your way.” His hand comes up to the graze on Sam's cheek. “But if it’s one of them, or both of them, or you. I will choose you. If it’s anyone, or you. I will choose you.” Bucky sounds shocked at his own confession, sits back as if trying to process it. Then nods with conviction. Says shakily: “Yeah. I choose you.”
“What if it were Steve,” Sam asks, rolling his eyes, because Bucky's being completely irrational here.
But Bucky just blinks, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. Says immediately though: “Steve would tell me to save you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Don’t ask me to choose between the two of you, then.”
“I wasn’t-“ Except he was. Huh. “Sorry,” Sam says. “You’re right, I won’t do that again.”
Bucky acknowledges that with a nod. Then says: “Do you feel that you gotta measure up to him?”
“Well, he left some big shoes to fill. But no, not usually.” Sam exhales, because Bucky’s got an expectant look on his face. “I’ve been told I can’t be certain things my whole life. A lot of the time when I forget, someone’s there to remind me. So I have enough battles to fight against the world to think too hard about how I measure up as the new Cap, because I don’t think this is going to be any different.” Already it’s started; in many ways he’s tried to convince himself things aren’t changing. That he’s Captain America, but still the same guy. That his responsibilities are still the same. That people will look at him the same. But it’s not, and they don’t. Sam exhales. “I loved Steve, but I’m not him.”
“Did you?” Now Bucky’s gaze sharpens. But then he shrugs, a little rueful. “Maybe I’m the one that feels I have to measure up to him. I was his number two, and I was okay with that, but that guy’s long gone. I’m never gonna be him again.”
“Well I never knew that guy. But other than the annoying staring problem, this guy’s not that bad, all in all.”
“Yeah,” Bucky asks, and Sam nods, and Bucky smiles, a small, barely noticeable little thing. Sam lifts his leg so Bucky can tug off one boot, then the other. Shimmies out of his jeans, top, helps Bucky with his own clothes. “You wanna top?”
“Not particularly.”
“That’s always your answer.”
“Yeah, but you do me so good, baby,” Sam says, putting his patented sexy smile on his face.
“I can’t believe those words just came out of your mouth. I wish I had my phone set to record so I could play it for you the next time you say I’m corny or whatever.”
“You are corny.” He takes Bucky's hand by the wrist, guides it to his cock. “Anyway you don’t really care either way, cause you’re hot for me regardless.”
“You don’t have to take advantage of that.”
“Are we gonna keep talking or are you gonna fuck me before I turn your age.”
Bucky actually seems to be considering, the dick, but then Sam wraps his other hand around his cock and his eyes darken. He bends over Sam until their faces are almost touching as Sam jerks him off, slow, says, “What if I wanna keep talking.”
“Well you never shut up anyway, so,” Sam says, but then surges up to kiss him, because maybe he’s the one done with talking, right now.
After, Bucky asks: "Do you really think about whether I would choose between you and Steve?”
“No. I love Steve. If you asked me to choose between you and him, I might actually have to think about it too.”
“Hey,” Bucky says, but he’s smiling.
Sam finds his own smile fading away. “I think the world would rather Steve be Cap though. Or maybe someone not me.”
“You give a shit?”
“No. Yes. No. I know what I’m fighting for, just that sometimes.” Sam knows what he’s worth, it’s just. Sometimes.
“For whatever it’s worth, I know I’m not an Avenger, but I’ll follow you wherever you choose to lead.”
“For whatever it’s worth,” Sam says, and finds his heart catching in his throat. “Your opinion is worth more to me than any Avenger I know.”
“Who’s corny now, huh?” Bucky sounds prettily triumphant. “Are you gonna declare your undying love for me next? Gonna scribble hearts next to my name in your notebook.”
“Goddammit I knew she’d shown that to you - I told her, I told her.” Sometimes Sam hates that Bucky and his sister are friends, in a way that excludes Sam’s own relationship with the two of them. But only sometimes. Bucky had no real friends before, Sam knows this. Maybe he did form relationships in Wakanda, but for now that's the past; for now they still haven't forgiven him.
But now he has Sarah, and dotes on the boys, and regular poker nights with some old-timers who live three blocks from them that Sam’s not invited to because they’re for “people of a certain age only.”
“She let me take a picture of it. I’m gonna put it as my wallpaper. Sam Wilson’s favorite Howling Commando, James “Bucky” Barnes.”
“I’m gonna change my wallpaper to Bruce as Hybrid-Hulk, I swear. That dude could get it I bet.” Sam reaches for his phone and Bucky takes it from him, holds it out of his reach. “Rude,” Sam says. Bucky unlocks it and holds it up, and somehow manages to get a photo of the two of them: Bucky smiling cheerfully and Sam with a grimace on his face.
Sets it as Sam’s home screen and passes it back to him. Sam wants to replace it but it’s nice; it’s from the shoulders up, so it's not that intimate even though they’re both shirtless. “Maybe we should take one of those videos,” he says, musing out loud.
“You clearly don’t understand how insecure our data is, Sam. That is never going to happen.”
“Spoilsport.” He puts the phone down and pulls Bucky close to him, reaches down to palm Bucky’s cock, which is already hard again. “Hello,” he says. “See, this is why you were my favorite Howlie. I know you’d be a horn dog. Wear that blue pea coat for me one day, man.”
Bucky grins, then says, completely serious: “Yeah, alright.”.
*
Bucky's gone the next morning when Sam wakes up, has left a note to say he's grabbing breakfast in one of the lounges next to the labs.
Takes a while for Sam to find the place, and when he enters Bucky's deep in conversation with Banner, who’s nodding. “Yeah, I mean, you gotta assume they both have the super serum,” Banner is saying, but when he spots Sam he points to the corner, where there's food laid out, and someone is hovering over the table in chef whites.
Some things never change; Sam orders, then wanders over to Bucky and Banner with a plate of French toast with bananas and maple syrup. Bucky's eyes widen at the plate, and Sam hugs the plate protectively to him as he starts to dig in.
“Hey, Cap,” Banner says. “I was just telling Barnes here that the Wakandans sent over his brain scans - and by the way that technology is still off the charts - and what they did to repair any residual brain damage that the serum couldn’t manage. The serum is the only reason he’s not catatonic, and also the only reason why his recovery was so successful.”
“Are you sure he’s fully recovered,” Sam says, sipping on orange juice as Bucky moves closer to him, not subtle at all. “I’ve seen him malfunction many times. And you’ve probably already eaten, come on. Get your own French toast. There's a personal chef right there waiting.”
“I just want a bite,” Bucky says, pouting slightly.
Sam cuts him a piece of toast, dips it in syrup, chocolate sauce and whipped cream like he likes and then lifts the fork to his mouth. “One bite, no more.”
A thumbs up is all he gets in return, as Bucky takes the food and chews contentedly. Sam glances in Banner’s direction and he’s blinking at them both, as if trying to do some complicated math in his head.
Sam doesn’t care if he knows or not, or if anyone knows or not, either way. They don’t hide or advertise it, but most people don’t actually pick up on that they’re fucking, and Sam never bothers to inform them otherwise.
Banner exhales suddenly, and the moment passes.
“So yeah, as I was saying,” Banner continues. “I think I might be able to figure out a way to break HYDRA’s hold on them, the way the jolt of recognition from Steve broke yours, but long-term damage repair requires a time frame I’m not certain we have.”
“Do we not want to put them down now, Buck,” Sam raises a brow, and Bucky shrugs.
“Seems like they're doing this against their will. We maybe give them a shot at living.” He frowns. “But we can’t just send them back to their universe like that. My mind was a mess for a while after the Triskelion.”
“Then what’s the alternative? We just send them back as soldiers?” It doesn’t sit right with Sam, to leave them like that. To not be in control of your own mind, your own body.
"I've listed out where I think they might head - don't suppose we have manpower to back us up," Bucky says. "Where's Rhodes?"
"Back to DC, some crisis or another. We're a little stretched, sorry," Banner says, and sounds apologetic.
"Yeah, whatever," Bucky's frown deepens. "We're gonna head out. What do we do if we find them, besides take them out? They're not gonna go down easy. Horse tranquilizers oughta do it, they worked on me at a dose of about twice what you'd give an animal at that size. But only for a while, their bodies will process it fast. We need mag cuffs."
An uneasy cast comes to Banner's face, but Sam's used to Bucky talking about what HYDRA did to his body as if it doesn't matter. He takes out his phone and scrolls through the list Bucky sent him. Says: "Prep whatever we need, then let's go."
"Finish your breakfast first," Bucky says.
"I'm done," Sam pushes the plate toward Bucky, who beams as he picks up Sam's fork and knife. Sam's appetite's disappeared, ahead of what's to come. "Think we could get some wheels?"
Banner nods, then says: "I'll work on what we can do to help them, if they've been brainwashed, and if what was done to them is the same as what was done to Barnes. But if we have them here, it would be easier."
So many ifs. But Sam's faced more perplexing situations before; what's a couple of super soldiers against an army of aliens. Even if they are versions of themselves.
*
Bucky's quiet as they head to the first location on the list, an empty warehouse near an industrial area. "What's up," Sam asks, as he drives.
"I don't know if we can get them alive. HYDRA, ingrained in me that I wasn't to be captured. There's no way I could have been brought in conscious at all."
"Well that's why we have those tranquilizers, Buck."
"If we can shoot them, yeah. There are too many variables, and they're us, only with no limits. I wouldn't go against us and bet on the other side, Sam."
"That's not what's really bothering you though."
Bucky's silent for a long time, then says, his voice toneless: "It's not him. He's me, and I know what that was like for me. But they made a Winter Soldier out of you. They gave him real wings, and made him into a soldier. You're," he pauses again, and when Sam glances over finds his face blank. "HYDRA took everything from me, but they never touched you. They never hurt you. And he's not you, but he's you. We should kill them, not contain them, not send them back to where they came from.”
"If they’re anything like you, they deserve to be given a chance to be saved.” Sam can't really wrap his head around what Bucky's saying: he's not usually this forward about how he's feeling; neither of them are.
It's been a weird couple of days, though. Sam feels it too.
Bucky presses his lips together. Doesn't respond. After a long, tense moment he says: "I don't know if saving them is a mercy. Who knows what kind of a world they're returning to. What if, for them, death is better?"
"I don't think that's a choice we get to make, or should make. We're not gods, we don't get to decide what's mercy."
“I wonder if there are universes where HYDRA didn’t get me,” Bucky says instead of replying.
“Probably. I’m certain of it.”
“But then I’d be dead now, wouldn’t I?”
“Hopefully after living a long and happy life. Who knows. Could be a million things. Imagine if you died at 90, married with fifteen grandchildren and eight great grandkids. That'll be a good life, yeah?”
“I never would have met you though.”
“You tried to kill me several times. I’m sure that other me’s doing just fine.”
“That other you will probably be dead without a me to keep him from throwing himself headlong into danger all the time.”
“I managed to stay alive for 30-something years without you being around, Buck. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Maybe I would have dated Steve. You never know.”
Bucky audibly gasps, and the look on his face makes Sam chuckle. “You’re not allowed to make jokes about dating my ex, Sam.”
“Your - what?” He’s gobsmacked for a full second, before noticing the smile on the corner of Bucky's lips. “Okay, you’re not allowed to make jokes about dating our mutual friend. Also, if you’d lived a long and happy life and had grandkids, maybe I would have ended up dating one of them, you never know.”
“Okay first you want to date Steve and now you want to date my hypothetical grandkids?”
"Well, they're probably very hot." Sam pulls up in front of the warehouse, which looks abandoned. Climbs out and sends a Redwing inside to investigate. There are plenty of life signs inside, but no-one that looks like a HYDRA assassin. Sam can't imagine the Falcon having an easy time hiding away, not with those wings of his. But reports after the first couple have been sporadic. Maybe they're laying low somewhere, or somehow masking themselves from the sensors and cameras around.
"Anything," Bucky asks.
"Just a lot of homeless folks, it seems like."
"Yeah." Bucky doesn't sound surprised. Tells Sam: "It's worse in the big cities. They come from all over, just hide in places like this. Don't think anyone's looking for them, either."
"Out of sight out of mind, huh," Sam says, and can't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. The GRC not going through with its plans hasn't changed things all that much; it has some, since Sam started pressuring them - what Bucky calls, with no small measure of glee, Sam putting his bullying tactics to good use - but it's a long way to go before anything is remotely fixed.
"Yeah. Also, you're not allowed to date Steve or my grandkids, for the record," Bucky says, as they return to the van.
"Spoilsport."
Bucky sticks his tongue out at Sam as he starts the car, and Sam laughs.
*
The next few places are dead-ends as well, and by the time they're done it's late and Sam's starving, so they stop by a food truck for a couple of sandwiches Bucky recommends. Orders Sam the beef steak, and it's so good Sam can't even complain about Bucky taking it upon himself to order for him without asking. Passes him a bottle of beer as well, ice-cold.
"You ever wanna come back here," Sam asks, as they stroll down a street, neither of them particularly wanting to return back to the Tower. "You still have your apartment in Brooklyn, right?"
"Well, it's not really the same place I grew up in anymore. Plus, can't beat the seafood back home. And the rents here are crazy."
"Not like you can't afford it, with all your HYDRA money."
"Most of that HYDRA money goes to keeping you happy. You’re so high maintenance.”
"True, I am. But look at me, I deserve to be kept well." Sam stops then, as Bucky's gaze travels upward and he slows to a halt. Follows him to see the Statue of Liberty, glowing green, red, white and blue.
"Wow, somehow that's even more obnoxious in real life," Bucky says. "I wouldn't have thought so."
Sam takes a couple of steps forward: "I don't know, it's pretty great. Steve would have hated it. I wish he were here, I could get months out of never letting him live it down."
"You're Cap now though," Bucky says, sniffing.
"Not according to a fair number of people. You need to stop yelling at people on the internet, by the way. Every couple of weeks I get an email from some government agency about you threatening people online."
"I'm an old man, I'm allowed to yell." He waves at the statue in exasperation. "I don't like any of this, but you've saved the world, too."
"Yeah, I don't care," Sam says, and grabs Bucky's elbow to get him walking again. "It was never going to be easy, Buck. And I don't need you to get offended on my behalf."
"I like being offended on your behalf," Bucky screws up his face. "I have a lot of excess energy. The serum and all."
"And yet you complain about topping." Sam tilts his head up to the night sky, marvels at how clear it is, still. He found out at some point that Stark had, some time during the blip, fixed the problem with global warming. Managed to get even richer along the way, which Sam hadn't thought possible. But at least the world's not about to choke on its own fumes anytime soon, which is nice.
Even if everything else is fucked up beyond repair.
He's been told, mostly by Bucky, several times, that the mess the world is in isn't his burden to carry, but it's hard not to feel responsible for every damn thing.
Aliens are easy. Androids, wizards. Sure, punching things until they go away, or even talking to them until you can come to an agreement, all that Sam can do.
But bureaucracy and government agendas, greed and indifference, that Sam can't really do anything about.
"It's just about partnership, Sam. Equal partnership."
"Fine, let's draw up a schedule then. Or I guess I can find someone else to top me - what was that dating app you used to use?"
"Over my dead body," Bucky says. "Hey, maybe they'll come here, we should get a detail on it."
"Yeah, two HYDRA agents are gonna come perch by the symbol of Captain America."
"Depends on how long they've been out of cryo. Memories will start to come back in a bit, maybe they'll be attracted to something familiar from their past. Shield meant a lot to me, once upon a time."
"Once upon a time, huh?"
"People matter more now, I guess." Bucky sighs. "Like I said, it comes to you or them, I chose you,” and his voice is flat. “And yeah, I’ll sleep fine at night if that happens.”
“What if it doesn’t have to be a me versus them or a you versus them.”
"We're rarely that lucky."
"We could have lost, but we didn’t," Sam says. "I mean, it could be worse, that’s all."
Bucky’s quiet again, then says: “He thought you’d talk him out of it. That’s why he didn’t tell you. Not because of anything else.”
“It was a long time ago.” But Sam stops, turns back to look up at the shield. The one Sam has is different, and for that he’s mostly grateful.
“Yeah. I told him you deserved to know. But he was this close to changing his mind, and I think if you’d even hinted you weren’t gonna be okay with him leaving he wouldn’t have left.”
“What, like I was gonna stand in the way of his happiness? He was without the two of us for five years, Buck. Without you, or me, or Wanda. I don't know how I could have survived, five years of losing half the people I loved.”
“Yeah, but I know he worried that you needed him, maybe. I know you were close. Closer than the two of us at the time, even.”
“You were his best friend. He gave up everything for you.”
“So did you.”
Sam makes a face: “I regret that every day. Would have signed the accords if I’d known you’d show up one day and refuse to leave.” He tears his gaze away from the shield, says: “I always figured it was something like that.” The few conversations they’d had after Steve came back, before he decided to retire off-planet, they’d danced around the conversation, and Sam had resorted to assuring Steve he was fine, everything was fine.
Because it wasn’t like Steve had disappeared: he left, and then he came back after living the life he wanted. Them now being on different journey points is besides the point.
Bucky says: “He asked me to go with him.”
“Yeah, I figured. Why didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t stand the idea of going back to a world without the internet. And I don’t know. I was there - the Winter Soldier was there. I don’t know if I’d had been able to stop myself from stopping it from happening. From preventing all the deaths. I don’t regret my decision, not for a second. My life is.” He stops, takes a deep shaking breath.
Sam only nods, turns to start walking again.
*
Back at the tower, they shower, wash the grime off. Sam grabs another bottle of beer, but before he can drink it Bucky's advancing on him, taking it away and pinning Sam down onto the bed.
"So, you were saying about your excess energy," Sam says.
"Actually I'm kind of tired," Bucky says. He starts to get off Sam, but Sam drags him back, flips him over and straddles him. Bucky could break free easily, but he doesn't.
Sam says: "Do you wish you'd been killed instead of what happened?"
"Not anymore. Some days are worse than others, but mostly, not anymore. I like my life. I don't think I ever did, even back then. Maybe when I was a kid, but that was a long time ago."
"It's a pretty good life," Sam says. "I mean, you get to bang Captain America, how about that."
"Who refuses to top," Bucky says, a little dry.
"Shh, you're ruining the moment. You know, for someone who’s 107, you sure do act like you’re 110, Buck. I think I need to update my dating profile, maybe I’ll go find someone else to rail me.”
"God, fuck you, Sam."
"Hey, I was gonna top, but since you've decided to be so rude." It's not like Sam hates topping, it's just that Bucky aggressively tops from the bottom anyway, no matter who's fucking whom, so Sam might as well have some cock filling him up while he's getting fucked, that's all.
"Get the fucking lube, Sam," Bucky says, pointing impatiently at the side drawer. "I'm not you, I need prep.”
“Another reason why I don’t wanna top.”
An eye roll and a get on with it gesture, and Sam obliges with a sigh. Opens the cap and squeezes a healthy amount onto his hand, says, "At your service, Sergeant Barnes, as always."
*
Banner says he’s made progress on what would work to deprogram them. “But we need to get them back to their world at some point. Them in this universe isn’t normal, and it can cause the fabric of all universes to tear apart.”
“Well that sounds ominous,” Bucky says. “I assume you have a way to get them back to their own universe.”
“Yeah,” Banner points to some kind of contraption in the middle of the room. “All magic is really just advanced science we don’t understand yet. I modified something that Strange used previously. And, there’s a containment unit directly below, we just need to get them inside.”
“What about treating them first,” Sam says. “We’re not sending them back without helping them.”
“I understand, I'm working on it. But I need to scan their brains first.”
Bucky’s been staring at his phone. “Looks like you’ll get your chance, they were just spotted somewhere in Brooklyn. I think I know where they’re headed next.”
“Who spotted them,” Sam asks.
“Source.” He shakes his head when Sam opens his mouth. “Don’t ask. But there’s a HYDRA bunker nearby; I didn't think of it because it's been abandoned for years, even before HYDRA went down. Probably it's not wherever they came from. We should go now."
*
The bunker is underground, which is slightly inconvenient for the wings. But that means his alternate is also hampered a little, and his wings are bigger than Sam's. From the video Sam obsessively went through, they're beautiful; but he can't get past the horror of what it is that made them. Who made them, and for what purpose. They don't know anything, really. It's all questions, and very little answers. Sam imagines the worst; thinks of the HYDRA insignia on both of their skins, and imagines the worst.
It's possible HYDRA didn't win there though. It's possible it's just another world similar to this one, only both Sam and Bucky were unlucky there, not just Bucky. Sam can't imagine the specifics of it: they were born decades apart. But they shouldn't be together in this world either, and yet they are.
"You alright," Bucky asks, as they make their way through the bowels of the abandoned construct. There's nothing much to see, just grey walls and old, clunky computers on desks covered with dust, but Bucky stops at the door of an open room for a while, stares in at what looks like a chair meant for torture. It looks familiar, and it takes Sam a moment to recall that he's seen something like it in one of the photos in the file on the Winter Soldier Nat gave to them.
"I'm good. You?"
"Yeah," Bucky says, and rolls his shoulders. "We were here in the late 90s. I had no idea I was so close to home; nothing seemed familiar anyway. The places didn't really matter, it was always only about the mission."
Sam touches his arm briefly. "Come on, let's go."
*
It's their alternates that find them, in the end, not the other way around. Or just the Winter Soldier. He sends Bucky flying into a corner with a kick, and Sam has a moment to marvel at how that is exactly like how Bucky likes to use his powerful legs, before the soldier is on him, pinning him down.
Sam tries to activate the wings, but only manages part way because the hallway they’re in is narrow. Still he gets the jet pack going, and slides backward, the soldier somehow managing to cling on top of him. Gun aimed at Sam’s chest, which Sam isn’t worried about since the suit is bulletproof, but as he’s reaching desperately for the tranquilizer the soldier stops, and then looks at him. Eyes behind the mask widening. They look exactly like Bucky's.
He looks exactly like Bucky, on that bridge, so many years ago. Hair a mess around his face.
“Hey,” Sam says. “It’s okay, we don’t want to hurt you.”
There’s no response, and a second later a shot rings out, and the soldier’s eyes widen even further, before he slumps down on top of Sam. Warm blood splatters on Sam’s face, and then the soldier is being lifted bodily off him as Bucky grimaces. Sam sits up as Bucky drops the guy, feels frantically for a pulse. Is relieved when he finds one. “Why didn’t you use the tranc gun,” Sam says. There’s an ugly wound in his side. Sam presses his hands to it to stem the flow of blood, says: “We need to get him to a hospital. Or the labs. Somewhere he can be treated.”
“He’ll be fine, we don’t die easily. But you do, and the tranc takes time to take effect. I couldn’t take that chance.”
Sam shoots him a look, but Bucky's got a stubborn cast on his face, and Sam doesn’t want to argue with him, not here and not now. Besides, they have more pressing matters to deal with. Such as the winged creature running down the hallway, headed straight for them.
“Tranc gun, Bucky,” Sam says, not wanting to remove his hands from the soldier’s stomach.
Bucky scowls, but does as told. It takes three shots for the Falcon to fall to the ground, and Bucky’s not wrong, the soldier could have shot Sam in the head in the time for the tranquilizer to take effect.
Sam removes the mask from the soldier's face, and he moans slightly. He looks younger. Like Bucky before the deprogramming, before the blip. Face open, somehow innocent. “It’s okay,” Sam says, as he starts to move, and starts trying to get away. “Everything’s going to be fine, just lie down. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
Blue eyes blink at him, and after a moment the soldier raises his hand. Sam takes it, and squeezes reassuringly, tells Bucky, urgent: “Call Banner. Get someone, now.”
“Please,” the soldier says, and raises his free hand to touch Sam’s face. “You’re him.” And he sounds surprised, and a little lost, and very scared.
Bucky says: “I’ve called for a jet. The other one’s restrained.” He sounds casual, but the set of his shoulders is tight, and the corners of his eyes tense. Stares down at the soldier in distaste. “Like I said though, he’ll be fine. We’re hard to kill. I’ve been shot worse.”
The soldier switches his gaze to Bucky, and now he just looks bewildered. “Help me tear off his top,” Sam says, brusque. When Bucky doesn’t respond he says: “Now, Buck.”
Bucky snaps to, drops to his knees and does as told. Sam examines the wound and then packs it, commands Bucky to press down hard to keep him from further bleeding out. Bucky follows his instructions, but refuses to look at the soldier. Face a grim mask, muttering under his breath.
“He deserves a chance,” Sam says, quiet.
“You don’t know what he deserves.”
Sam rises to his feet as Bucky continues to apply pressure, goes to check on the Falcon. He’s still out, wings spread awkwardly around him. They look like they’re growing out of his back, and it’s the oddest thing, seeing his own face like this.
Sam looks like his Dad, everyone always said they were splitting images, but it’s not the same. Idly, Sam touches a deep red iridescent wing. Up close, they’re even more beautiful, almost breathtaking. HYDRA did this? The Falcon’s cheekbones are sharper than Sam’s, his body thin and wiry. Hidden under goggles that look a mockery of Sam’s own.
Everything about him looks a mockery of Sam’s own, including the wings, as real as they are.
As Sam watches him, he stirs, but doesn’t open his eyes. For some reason Sam’s compelled to take his hand; holds it until the cavalry arrives. Watches him twitch, and grimace, in sleep.
*
“He’s alive,” is the first thing Sam says, when the Falcon finally wakes up from the tranquilizer and Sam can speak to him. They’ve put him in a reinforced glass room, but also mag cuffed him, just in case. His wings spread themselves out behind him, flicker, and then fold neatly back into place.
Sam’s almost envious. What it must be like, to truly be able to fly. He feels his own wings sometimes as an extension of himself, but it’s not exactly the same. It’s still something that he puts on, and has to take off at night.
The Falcon sighs visibly in relief. Up close and awake, he doesn’t look all that much like Sam. Hunted expression in giant eyes. Bucky’s eyes, when they first caught up to him in Romania. The locs are distractingly neat. Who did this for him? HYDRA? Sam had hair like this as a teenager; kept it till he enlisted.
“What’s your name,” Sam asks, soft.
“Same as yours, probably.” There’s no inflection in his voice.
“You don’t remember?”
“I remember bits of it.” He shakes his head in faint anger, as if he could force the memories to return. “Sam,” he says after a while. “I’m Sam. Ah. Sam-“
“Wilson,” Sam finishes for him, and he looks grateful, and Sam’s chest constricts, for that simple display of gratitude. At being told his own last name. Sam wonders if he remembers his family, or if they’re alive at all. Is there a Sarah at home, with two boys who love their uncle and are deeply loved in return? And what’s there to live for if not? Not a whole lot, not if they were killed. Sam’s throat tightens at the thought.
“Where’s this place?”
“You’re in a private research facility in New York.”
The Falcon stares at the restraints around his wrists and ankles. “Some research facility.” But he doesn’t sound surprised.
“It’s not like that. It’s just a precaution.” On impulse though, he picks up his tablet. Presses a few commands, and the gauntlets release with a hiss, dropping to the floor with a thud. The Falcon looks surprised.
Sam's distracted momentarily by a harsh voice in his earpiece. Bucky, going: “What the fuck, Sam.”
Sam just nods at the giant reflective mirror framing the room, trusts that Bucky will have faith in his instincts and let him do this how he wants to.
An exasperated exhale, but nothing else. Sam’s willing to bet Bucky's got a gun aimed at the mirror though; willing to crash through and snap a throat at the first sign of trouble. Despite the reinforced glass cage meant to keep in beings far stronger than super soldiers, even ones with wings.
Sam hopes it won’t come to that.
“This isn’t any New York I remember,” the Falcon says after a beat. “And why are you me? Are you a clone? Or,” and there’s faint horror in his voice. “Am I?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Sam says. “I don’t suppose you know what a multiverse is.”
“I don’t even know my own name, so what do you think?”
He sounds angry, his giant wings rising to fan out behind him, and Sam flicks his gaze up again briefly to the mirror: a silent sit tight, it’s all good.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Bucky says in his ear.
Sam suppresses a smile.
“There are different universes,” Sam says. “Thousands, maybe millions of them. Each universe is slightly different, or very different. HYDRA didn’t win in this one. I take it it won in yours?”
“HYDRA didn’t win? I remember-“ he clamps his mouth shut, as if unsure whether to trust Sam at all, and Sam gets it. But at least his wings are back in place, right against his back. They’re so beautiful. Sam wants to ask how, but isn’t sure the answer is something he wants to know.
“We destroyed HYDRA here,” he says, by way of moving the conversation forward, “and SHIELD along with it. That was almost ten years ago. When did they get you? Do you remember?”
“After they killed everyone that mattered,” Sam says, and frowns. “I don’t know when. But I think I was supposed to die too. Except I didn’t, and they took me, and they. And they.” His face twists in anguish. “Where is he? I want to see him. Where is he?”
“He did your hair,” Sam says, and the revelation is out of left field, and he hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but he’s glad he did, because the Falcon just stops and stares at Sam for a bit. It makes sense though: what HYDRA agent would spend the hours it took to make each intricate braid. The hair speaks of care. It speaks of love. The soldier’s face when he touched Sam’s.
The Falcon puts his hand to his scalp self-consciously. “HYDRA disapproved, and separated us with the intention of terminating the Falcon, but he wouldn’t comply without me, no matter what they did to him. That’s what they said when they returned me to him. I need to see him. Please.”
It’s a surprisingly lucid, coherent response. Sam starts to feel rising hope: that they could possibly fix him in time, before Banner has to send them back. “I’ll bring you to him,” he says, quiet, even as Bucky, in his ear, swears under his breath. “Let’s go.”
Sam goes to the monitoring station and opens the cage door.
Allows the Falcon to walk ahead of him, and outside he sees Bucky, arms crossed mutinously. The Falcon bares his teeth at first, wings rising in threat, but then it’s as if a switch has been flipped, and he goes completely still.
“Soldier,” he says, and his voice is so soft and fond. He moves toward Bucky, who seems to recognize he’s not a threat, not at this moment. Bucky stares as the Falcon puts a trembling hand to Bucky's face.
“He’ll come back in a bit,” Bucky says, nodding at Sam. “This happened at first. Couldn’t tell the present from the past.”
Sure enough, the Falcon blinks, looks confused for a moment. Drops his arm and turns to Sam, a question on his face.
“Our version of him,” Sam says, and the Falcon nods immediately in understanding.
Turns back to Bucky: “You didn’t have to shoot him.”
“I’ll do it again, he comes close to,” and jerks his head at Sam.
The Falcon remains silent for a moment, and then says: “I want to see him. Please.”
*
“You’re an idiot,” Bucky tells him again, his voice low, as Sam leads the Falcon to the medical suites.
Sam ignores him, and Bucky touches his shoulder. “You okay,” he asks, and Sam shakes his head. Bucky nods, says: "We need answers.”
“We’ll get them easier if he trusts us, at least a little.”
In the suites, the Soldier lies still, hooked up to machines. He’s also mag cuffed to the bed, but it doesn’t seem to bother the Falcon, who sits down next to him and takes his hand. His wings trail the floor behind him, and even Bucky can’t stop staring.
“He’s gonna be fine,” Sam says. “The doctors here are the best in the world.”
The Falcon nods, then says: “Thank you.”
The Soldier stirs, and then opens his eyes. Glances around in panic for a moment, before lasering in on the Falcon, who doesn’t say anything, just leans close, head bowing. The Soldier makes a noise of distress, but visibly relaxes.
Bucky clears his throat. “So how did you both end up here?”
“Mission directive: termination of two subversive agents. The mission was a success, but.” The Falcon stops for a moment. “I don’t know what happened next. We were there and then we weren’t. We were trying to return to base for debriefing, but the bases were gone.” The Falcon glances back at Sam. “You had the shield with you. Your outfit. Who are you, here?”
“Captain America,” and that’s Bucky, crossing his arms in defiance.
“You’re Captain America,” and shock crosses his face briefly, chased by grief, and Sam thinks about what it must be like; as hard as his life has been, it’s not this.
After coming back, some days, Sam has felt the weight of what he’d lost, what everyone had lost, during those years gone by. But at least they won; the victory may be bittersweet, but it’s still victory.
“What’s going to happen to us,” the Falcon asks.
Sam feels Bucky tense up, but he doesn’t say anything. Banner had been very clear about them not being able to stay in this universe, but Sam's not really sure what to say. How do you tell someone they have to return to a dystopian universe where HYDRA’s turned them into mind controlled soldiers? It’s unimaginable.
The Falcon seems to intuit from their lack of response though, but all he does is nod, then turn back to the Soldier, who somehow manages to lift himself to sitting, curling up into the Falcon’s body. The Falcon’s wings rise up behind him and wraps around them both, and they both just stay there, cocooned in their own world.
*
Banner says he needs a few days to scan their brains, and the Soldier needs at least a week to fully heal. “Sure the universes won’t collapse in the meantime,” Sam says, a little dry.
“Nothing is certain,” Banner says. He sounds slightly harassed.
“I’m not really okay with sending them back to a world that would do this to people,” Sam says.
“Our world did this to people,” Bucky says. “If HYDRA had won, I’m sure it would be the same.”
“Yeah, but they didn’t, and it doesn’t sit right with me, Buck.”
“They’re dangerous, and you’re too trusting.” His exhalation is one of extreme frustration. “You don’t know what HYDRA did to them. You don’t know what could be in their heads. Remember what happened to me when Zemo triggered me.”
“I remember what happened to you when Zemo triggered you,” Sam says. “I also recall that last week you spent all night helping Cas with a science project he had due and that on Saturdays you volunteer to read to Mrs Woolworth because that’s the one day her nephew can’t drop by to visit."
"What's your point?"
"My point is that you came back from all of that, and they should be given a chance too."
"Not if they're returning to a world where HYDRA won."
"All empires fall, eventually. So what if HYDRA won there - maybe we can send these guys back armed with the knowledge to do something about it."
Banner clears his throat: "I'm not sure we should be messing with other universes like this."
"You took the stones from the past to bring us all back to life, wasn't that messing with things we shouldn't be messing with?"
"That's different - okay it's not different, but." Banner turns back to his screen. "Okay, I can unbrainwash them now, with the information the Wakandans sent over. And then we send them back, but I am honestly not sure what good that would do."
"A chance is better than nothing," Sam says. Lifts his gaze and Bucky's staring at him, his face blank. He shakes his head as they leave the lab, and Sam pulls him aside. Says: "It wasn't their fault, what happened to them, just like it wasn't yours."
"Stop psychoanalyzing me," Bucky says, starting to walk away. Sam pulls him gently back, and Bucky sighs, but tolerates it. "You think I should feel sorry for them?"
"I think there's a difference between empathy and pity."
"HYDRA unmade me, and it unmade them. Only they didn't break free, and there's nothing we can do to fix what happened there, and we won't ever know what's gonna happen to them when they return." He closes his eyes, but when he opens them again his eyes are bleak.
“So maybe that's why they came through here to begin with, Buck. Maybe so we can give them a fighting chance. It's not much, but it's better than nothing. I didn't think my life would get better too, so many times after all the shit that's happened over the years. But it did.”
Bucky searches Sam's face. Nods after a moment, then says: "You wish you had those wings?"
"Maybe just a little. But not the process, probably. Or that it's likely he didn't have a say in the matter. They're pretty slick though."
"More destructible than vibranium."
"Yeah, yeah - the wings you made for me are the absolute best, Buck. Completely irreplaceable. I'm ever so grateful."
"You should be," Bucky says. He sighs. "It's not gonna be pleasant, once they get their memories back. I think a lot of it's come back by now, but the full force of it, and the hold HYDRA has on their brain going away, that's not going to be easy. It took me a while to return to normal."
"Yeah, I think I liked you better when you were wide-eyed and lost. Now you're just a constant pain in my ass."
"You could be the pain in my ass if you would top more," Bucky says, as Sam groans. "I'm just saying, Sam. Stop, don't walk away." But Sam's already headed down the hallway, and Bucky has to tug him back. It's annoying that he's so strong, even though he doesn't use that strength of his deliberately on Sam.
"Come on, let's just go back to our room," Sam says. "Stop pawing at me in public."
"It's hard when you're so sexy, baby," Bucky leers, then looks vaguely embarrassed. Sam can only laugh.
*
Sam gets a stiff drink, then pours one for Bucky, even though it doesn't work on him, and he knows Bucky would rather smoke. But Sam has a no-smoking indoors policy, and a no-kissing if your breath smells like smoke policy, and so Bucky doesn't really smoke all that much anymore. Less than he would otherwise, for sure.
They didn't know about the cancer in the 40s; or didn't much care. In Afghanistan, Sam didn't care either. But now he does; it's shocking, sometimes, how pleasant his life is now. His family, Bucky, the home and life they’ve built for themselves.
The past few years have been a rollercoaster ride, including being dead, but although the world's gone to shit, his personal life has never been better.
Because HYDRA lost. Sam wants to know what was it exactly that made the difference between that world and this. Did Steve die? Did they not manage to divert Insight?
But he can't get any answers to those questions unless they fix whatever was done to their alternates; and even then, who knows.
Bucky says, very haltingly, after being uncharastically quiet for the longest time, just staring out the full glass window deep in thought: "I wanna go home. After every mission, and sometimes during, that's all I think about. How I wanna go home."
"Home as in?"
“Don’t be stupid, of course ours. I’m not him.” Sounds frustrated.
“Well yeah, he was better looking for one thing.”
”You should have seen me before the war. Although after the serum, I was pretty invisible to everyone.”
“You smile more now, I bet the girls will still line up.”
“Your sister’s pretty cute.”
“Don’t start that again.” Sam sighs. "Sorry, Buck. I don't think retirement's on the cards just yet, not for me anyway."
"No, it's not that. Even if we send them back with their memories intact, they'll have to fight HYDRA, and who knows if they'll win. And who knows if the next bad thing will come rain hell on us, and will strip this away from me too. I don't have faith in things going well for me."
"Well, you're fortunate you're my partner then. Because I’m pretty lucky.” Bucky shoots him a look from the reflection in the glass, and Sam says: “Okay, but. I am Captain America. I mean, that’s -“
“Misfortune?”
“Fair. But it does come with a very good sidekick. He even puts out, when he’s not complaining about sexual positions.”
Bucky chuckles, says: "You're so romantic. Goddamn, Wilson. Stop it, you'll make me cry."
"Is it more or less romantic than 'I'm with you to the end of the line', is the question." Sam moves to stand behind Bucky, rubs his shoulder idly.
"Oh, you had to go there, huh?" He turns around, pushes Sam backwards, down onto the bed. Sam starts laughing, and then stops abruptly as Bucky's eyes darken. But then he says: "So I think we should get a cat."
"No," Sam says immediately. "I prefer dogs."
"Too bad, I already called the shelter at home, and they said they're out of dogs, but two cats just came in, looking for homes."
"Okay, that's a blatant lie, Buck. They are not out of dogs." But Bucky's already risen from the bed and retrieved his phone. Shoves it in front of Sam's face. "Okay," Sam says, peering at the picture of the two cats - one a delicate pure white and the other a giant, terrifying looking ginger - "I'll think about it if you stop pretending you want me to top."
Bucky looks outraged for a moment, but then acknowledges Sam’s obvious truth with a growl. Kisses him then, before he sighs and moves away to flop down onto his back.
“What was it like,” Sam asks, staring up at the ceiling. They don’t really talk about it; Sam usually doesn’t ask, and Bucky brings it up only in passing.
“I was in cryo a lot, once they realized that they couldn’t keep me out too long without my programming failing and killing everyone to get away. But it was a lot of propaganda, a lot of boring speeches about HYDRA’s grand plan. I think they had hoped at some point they could turn me willingly, or find a way to make me easily compliant without all the messiness and the brain wiping.”
“Like they did with the Widows.” Nat had talked about it some, after she’d come to rescue Sam with Steve.
“Yeah, but Widows weren’t enhanced. Not so simple with me. I heal better and I’m stronger, but you can’t drug me like that. They tried their best, though.”
“Bet they had the worst time with you. I can only imagine. I mean, how did Steve deal with you as his second in command - did you follow a single one of his orders?”
“I spent most of my time trying to keep his dumb ass from getting killed. Funny, I seem to be doing the same thing now. Though I guess the upside now is at least I get laid more often. Even though you refuse to-“ Bucky clamps his mouth shut abruptly, and Sam suppresses a snort of laughter.
Is about to respond, when their phones chime. Sam picks his up, glances at the message. Says: “Oh, they’ve done it.”
“Great,” Bucky says, but doesn’t sound very happy.
“We can get the cats,” Sam says, and doesn’t need to look over to know Bucky’s started to smile.
*
They’ve got them both in separate isolation chambers.
Precaution, again, and Sam bristles inwardly, even though it doesn’t really matter. They’re going home, anyway.
And at least they can see one another.
The Soldier looks pale, but he’s leaning against the glass wall separating them, eyes fixed on the Falcon. Those same eyes widen when Sam steps in, followed by Bucky, and he turns to the Falcon, who puts his palm on the glass. The Soldier immediately calms down, palm coming up to press against the glass as well.
Sam’s voice catches in his throat. He clears it, then decides, fuck this. But Bucky's already at the controls, and the doors hiss open a moment later. “So what were you saying about me being an idiot,” Sam says into his ear.
“I guess there’s something to be said about trusting that people can be saved.” Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off the two of them though, and he keeps his hand on his waistband, where Sam knows he keeps a knife.
It’s not needed though; the two of them seem mostly lost, and uninterested in fighting. The Soldier squeezes the Falcon’s wrist, and it’s still jarring, seeing the two of them like this.
Banner enters the chamber, clears his throat. “How are you two? We need to do more tests, check to see if you’re okay.”
“We’re fine,” the Falcon says. “We would like to go home.”
Sam starts. “There’s no rush, I think. I doubt the universes are going to explode in the time it takes for the doc to make sure you’re both cleared.”
The Falcon shakes his head. “We have to go home. We have to undo what HYDRA did.” He points at his own head. “Thank you for this. But we gotta go back to fix things now.”
“Right,” Sam says, and he gets it, he does. He can't imagine why he had thought they would want to do otherwise.
"Steve," Bucky says, clearing his throat. "Is there a Steve Rogers in your universe?"
There's no response, but guilt and grief crosses the Soldier’s face. Bucky staggers back, his face collapsing, then hardening.
Sam takes his wrist; knows Bucky can pull away any time, but that's not the point. Bucky turns to look at him, and Sam shakes his head.
"Is Steve - is Steve alive here," the Soldier says, and sounds so very desperate. Bucky can never keep a hold of his riot of feelings, and it seems it's the same way with his alternate. "Can we see him?"
"No," Sam says. "I'm sorry. He's gone, too. But if it helps he had a long and fruitful life, here. And he's not dead, just off planet. Last I checked he's dating some three-hundred year old blue alien or something."
The soldier just blinks at him, and then turns to Bucky, who still looks mutinous. Flinches, and Sam says: "Hey, was there a Thanos in your universe?"
Blank stares, so hey, that's one blessing at least. Sam's fingers are still around Bucky's wrist, and he can feel the man tremble next to him. Squeezes, and Bucky relaxes, tension bleeding out of him.
"When do they need to go," Sam turns to Banner.
"Tomorrow should be good. We need to go back to the place where they emerged - I've triangulated it based on energy surges on the day they arrived. But we should do it at night. They both killed a lot of people, and the most we can say is that they're not either one of you and that we're handling it."
Banner sounds exhausted; he's remembering the accords, and the tenuous situation they're all in right now, where clandestine organizations make vague threats about their rights to operate as independent agents but them some enhanced person crawls out of the woodwork to cause havoc or the world threatens to end, and either they have to fix it or they have to call in someone like Sam to fix it. Sam's not sure what he'll do this time around if the accords come back into play; he won't sign, but he's tired of running.
Maybe he'll end up playing house with Bucky after all. It could be worse though. Cats. Why the hell not? Maybe they could adopt a couple of kids in future, too. Not really such a wild idea, if he's honest. Bucky would make a great dad; Sam's not so sure about himself. But considering the challenges of even being an uncle, and watching Sarah navigate the complexities of raising her kids - it might just be enough to keep Sam on his toes. Possibly.
"Hey," Sam tells Bucky, pulling himself out of it. “You good?”
Bucky sniffs, and pulls away. Turns abruptly and exits the room, leaving Sam to stare after him.
“He alright,” Banner asks.
“Yeah, just been a rough week for all of us. Hey, let them stay together tonight - I see no reason to separate them. They probably don’t need to be imprisoned too, if the deprogramming worked.”
“It did, but,” Banner hesitates. “We don’t really know who they were, in that other world.”
Sam turns to the both of them. They’re standing close to one another, and the Soldier has the smallest of smiles on his face as they stare at one another. The Falcon’s wings are half-open, almost wrapped around the Soldier’s shoulders. “I know they weren’t monsters,” Sam says, in the end.
Banner only nods.
*
Sam catches up with Bucky on the roof, smoking, sitting down on the ledge. A man who’s terrified of heights.
““How’d you know I was here,” Bucky asks suspiciously, without looking back.
“You smoke when you’re stressed, but also you like to brood manfully like you live in a comic panel or something, so I figured you’d do it someplace with great optics. Get off the ledge.”
“Yeah, I kind of sat here and now I’m a little frozen.” Bucky’s staring down, wide-eyed and Sam knows he’s mostly telling the truth.
“You’re a dumbass.” Sam goes to him and holds his hand out for Bucky to take. Jumps up onto the ledge and sits down next to him. “It’s a nice view, just don’t look down.”
“Do you think it’s ironic that a man who died falling off a train is sleeping with a guy who flies?”
“Ironic? No. Maybe it’s fitting; who else is gonna hold your hand while you have a meltdown over a situation you got yourself into to begin with?”
Bucky makes a face, and Sam takes his cigarette away. Stubs it out, then says: “Tell me.”
“What? It’s a cliche - I’m angry with them because I see myself reflected in their eyes. For not being able to resist. For breaking, like I did. For not fighting hard enough. But I always thought, if they’d gotten Steve, or you. Mostly you. You wouldn’t break. That you’d be stronger than me.”
“Everybody breaks in the end, Buck. I’m not special, I just got lucky in this world.”
“I think you’re pretty fucking special,” Bucky exhales shakily. “But yeah, I know that too.” He puts his head on Sam’s shoulder, says: “Did you let them free to wander the halls?”
“Yep.”
“Idiot.”
“Yep.” Sam leans away as Bucky raises his head to try and kiss him. “Stop, you know the no kissing after smoking rule.”
“It’ll distract me from the fear of being up here on this roof, Sam.”
“A situation you put yourself into to begin with,” Sam says, but allows the kiss, grimacing as Bucky deliberately slobbers all over him. Sam finally pulls away.
“You okay?”“
“I keep thinking of the people I’ve lost - maybe they’re alive somewhere, in other universes. I guess that’s comforting, even though I can’t see them.” Sam shakes his head. “Come on, let’s go back inside.” Rises to his feet and holds out a hand.
Bucky looks hesitant, but takes it and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. Glances down again, but Sam takes his chin, gently lifts it. “Come on, princess. I’ve rescued you. Climb down.” Sam hops back onto the roof, and after a moment Bucky follows.
*
They end up back at one of the tower’s observation decks, where their alternates are sitting, staring out into the night sky. Sam can’t stop looking at the Falcon’s wings. “You wanna touch them?” he says, and Sam starts.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Not rude,” he halts, and then speaks again, as if unused to hearing his own voice. “I dreamed of having my own wings for years. Didn’t think it would happen quite like this, but here we are.” He flaps them experimentally, in a flutter of explosive red. They sound like an angel, like a dream. “I don’t hate them, if I’m honest.”
The Soldier snorts, but doesn’t say anything. Just tilts his head and leans close, casts a wary eye to the two of them. The Falcon raises a hand to his cheek, and he calms down, turns away.
“Don’t mind him,” the Falcon says. “He’s been under for a lot longer than I was. I think it might take a while.”
“You get there eventually,” Bucky says, clearing his throat. He drags a chair over and straddles it. Stares at the Soldier’s arm, gleaming silver and bright. “We need to get Banner to fix the arm before you go. It hurts, right?”
A hesitant nod.
“If we replace it HYDRA will probably figure out you went somewhere else, but Banner or someone can sever the nerve endings, like they did for mine.” He lifts his hand, and the Soldier reaches out, touching it tentatively. Eyes widening in surprise.
Sam sits next to his own alternate, and a wing is extended to him.
“Go on, you can.”
Sam puts trembling fingers to the top of a wing span, and the Falcon shivers, but nods in encouragement when Sam hesitates. The feathers are softer than he’d expected them to be, but he can feel the strength beneath the intricate bones beneath the skin. Of course they would have to be, they were meant to hold him up. “How’d they do this,” he asks, marveling.
The Falcon grimaces, shakes his head. “It’s funny,” he says. “All that happened was I went for a jog one morning.”
“Oh god, you too, huh?” They share a smile, and it’s disconcerting for a moment, his own smile on his own face. The Falcon must feel it as well. But then the moment passes. “He showed up on your doorstep all sad and stuff?”
“Yep.” His smile fades from his face. “I didn’t think we would lose, though. You never think you’ll lose. But I’m glad you won. I’m glad this world won.”
“I don’t think we won, exactly, it’s complicated. But I lucked out, yeah,” Sam says, and his gaze wanders to Bucky automatically.
“How are you Captain America?”
“Well, Steve. Our Steve, he left to - it’s complicated, but he gave me the shield and left, and so here I am.”
Faint frown, then the Falcon asks: “Is the world different here?”
“Oh no, I’m pretty sure from the look on your face it’s the same. I said no, several times. Sometimes I’m still not convinced it’s worth it. But I’m doing it on my terms. Well, and sometimes his.” He jerks his head at Bucky, who’s talking in low tones to the Soldier, and this is disconcerting as well. Like seeing the past and the present together.
From the first time he saw the Winter Soldier to when they’d caught him in Berlin to now. All the different versions of the same man. He’s Sam’s now, and that this is true across at least one other universe is weird, considering how they met, but also fitting.
Sam can’t imagine being with anyone else.
The Falcon says, soft: “I’m glad this world exists.”
Sam wants to ask a thousand things: How bad is it? Is there any good left in that HYDRA-ruled world. Are Sarah and the boys alive? Is there a Sarah to begin with? What about Nat? Is Nat alive? What about Riley? Gideon? Mom and Dad? His heart catches at the thought of all the people he’s lost. Even though they’re probably dead too, there. But if there’s even a possibility.
He doesn’t ask, in the end.
Just sits silently as the Falcon stares up into the clear blue sky, a faint smile crossing his face.
*
In the dead of night, they get into a van, and then out into the street.
The Soldier ends up next to Sam on the way there, and from here Sam can tell he looks younger than Bucky, which makes sense, if he’s not been allowed out of cryo beyond when HYDRA needs him.
“You okay,” Sam asks, pointing at his belly.
The Soldier grimaces, but says, his voice hoarse: “Yeah, I’m okay.” A pause. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have killed you.”
“For what it’s worth, I know. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. I would have done the same for him.”
Sam can only say: “I hope it works out; I hope you win.”
“But I still killed him,” and his voice is flat, even though his face is anything but. “How do I live with that?”
“You just do, that’s all. One day at a time, that’s how you live with it. I’ll tell you something though: there isn’t a version of him out there that would blame you for it.”
“Yeah.” He hangs his head, and when his hair falls in front of his face Sam has to fight the urge to push it back. Not his, he reminds himself.
His is staring at him. Grimaces when they make eye contact, but then he swallows.
*
Sending them back is anti-climactic, in the end. They get out of the van, and Banner presses a bunch of buttons, opening what Sam can only assume is a portal to the other universe.
“What happens if we go through,” Sam asks.
“No way to bring you back. I would not suggest.”
“Alright.”
The Falcon flaps his wings before folding them tight behind him. Takes the Soldier’s hand, and Sam thinks to say: “Good luck,” before they step through.
The good guys always win in the end, right?
That’s what Sam always used to believe, anyway. Even though he’s less and less clear nowadays who the good guys really are.
But his life now feels like a victory, so that’s something, at least. He deserves this, at least. They all do.
It’s over a moment later, the portal closes behind them, and Banner clears his throat. “So I guess that’s that. You wanna head back? I’m arranging a flight out for you both, can leave tonight if you want to.”
Sam wants to, but says: “You go on, we’ll catch up.”
“Sure.”
Bucky falls into silent step next to him as they walk, saying after a while: “You wanna know what it’s like there?”
“Not particularly. I already know.”
“The wings are pretty cool though.”
“Yeah, maybe I’ll ask someone to graft them onto me. But I might leave you for a nice peacock, you never know. They’re certainly better hued than you are.”
“You are,” Bucky says, very seriously. “not allowed to leave me for a bird. You’re not allowed to leave me at all, Samuel.”
“If the right bird comes along,” Sam laughs as Bucky shoves at him, making him stumble, but just a little. He always holds back; always. “Are you gonna get in the way of true love?”
Bucky stops in the middle of the street, the smile fading off his face: “You are my one true love, Sam.”
“So I see the corny ball is back in your court where it belongs. Well played. I can’t top that.” He starts walking again, not looking behind him.
“You could tell me I’m your true love too.” Sam ignores him, and Bucky says, voice close to a whine: “Come on. Throw a man a bone here.”
“I don’t know, I see a pigeon that’s really catching my attention now.”
Bucky growls, and grabs his hand. Pulls him close, and Sam cradles his cheek with his hand: “Do you think you deserve to be loved, Buck?“
“What kind of question is that?”
“One that requires a very simple answer.”
“Isn’t wanting it enough?” He stops, and then seems to come to a revelation, blinking. “Yeah, I do. I think I’ve earned it. Anyway, I know you love me.”
“Presumptuous.”
“Yep.” Bucky pulls him closer still, puts his head on his shoulder. He’s so warm, and Sam inhales his steady, reassuring scent. Thinks of their alternates, brainwashed and lost, huddled together still, refusing to be torn apart no matter what. “And also, I like who I am when I’m with you. I like who you make me want to be. If you call me corny I will carry you and throw you into a garbage bin. I know you love me, so you won’t.”
“Wasn’t gonna say anything,” Sam says, “other than you’re not wrong.”
“Ha, I knew it.” Bucky releases him, but the brilliant smile on his face fades away soon enough. “Think they’ll be alright?”
“Yeah,” Sam says, and his throat feels thick once again. “They have each other. I think they’ll be alright.”
“Ugh,” Bucky says, clutching at his heart and stumbling away. “So corny. Stop, I can’t take it anymore.”
“Stop it,” Sam says, as Bucky continues to laugh, walking up the street. Catches up to him, slings an arm around his shoulders.
“I’ve named our cats already, by the way. Told them we’ll pick them up after we go home. It’s not usually how the shelter does things, but they’re real excited that Captain America is adopting cats from them. Wanna put you up on a wall somewhere.”
“I look forward to getting to know them.”
The sun starts to rise as Bucky smiles, wide and bright, and kisses him, and Sam thinks: Worth the while.
Always, worth the while.