The Story Book

Cont... It had been six months since the fall of Shield and one since Sokovia. Bucky would never admit it but he was tired. Of fighting, of leading, of looking for someone who didn't want to be found. Sam was a true angel through it all allowing him to keep Avenging and taking the lead on looking. But they were really out of options. Bucky stared off the wharf as the lights of Coney Island reflected off the dark water. He had contemplated throwing himself in once when he'd come out of the ice. The new world had scared him, the past moving farther and farther away. He'd felt cold then, not just physically but emotionally as well, simply, empty. If he was honest, he felt the same way now, but Steve needed him he couldn't just throw himself into the abyss. So he sat and leaned back looking at both the stars and the lights on the ocean and wondering where his best friend was. "The last time I was here my friend got me sick on the Cyclone." The voice...

Cont... This was it. Bucky could feel it in his bones. As the metal all around him hummed he knew, Steve was here, somewhere, waiting. This was the last carrier, Hydra's last chance to stop him. He'd be here, Bucky knew. He found the main control panel and he found Steve, waiting as expected, to kill him. Only a catwalk separated them now. Bucky had donned the blue coat he'd last worn when they had seen each other. He doubted it would work but he had to try or more than just Helicarriers were going to die today. "People are gonna die Steve. That's never what you wanted." Bucky said watching his best friend's face devoid of the mask and of emotion. A flash of confusion, of hesitation.  "You don't remember, that's okay. But you have to let me make this right. I failed you. I'm not about to do it again." Bucky said coming closer. Confusion now, a look that screamed he was lost. "Will you let me fix this? Let me help you...

Cont... Bucky tried to rest, get ready for what was to come, he just couldn't. Steve. Loving, kind, fearless Steve. The kid that didn't know when to run from a fight or when to back down, the kid that hated bullies with everything in him was a killer.  The best could break Bucky knew that. His own ordeal with Hydra made him wish all the more it had never happened. Hydra had changed his best friend into a weapon. Changed the artist into a killer. The scary thing was that Bucky had almost killed him. He was supposed to protect Steve, no matter what instead he'd almost killed him. Bucky stared absentmindedly at the city from the rundown dam that had been converted into a bunker and allowed himself to fall back into another decade. "We looked for you after. My folks wanted to drive you home." Bucky said walking after his best friend. They were both dressed in their Sunday best for the funeral they had just attended. "Thank you but I needed to be...

Cont... His head was going to kill him. The peaceful silence he was so used to was shattered. The confusion in his mind was just too loud too much. He paused to try and silence the painful thoughts in his head. He had to keep moving, get back to base, back to safety where they could help him. He forced himself to keep going back to the base in the basement of a bank. His feet took him back on autopilot until he was in the safety of the base. The doctors could fix him here, help him like they always did. He closed his eyes and tried to relax as they fixed him up. It didn't help. Instead of finding the solace in silence, he was hit with waves of something he couldn't define, it just hurt. The man. That man from the bridge. He didn't understand but that man was the only thing that made sense. The shocked and pained look hurt to think about but it summoned some feeling deep in the Asset's chest. Then he was remembering and it hurt.   "I got you! Hol...

Cont... James felt slightly guilty dragging Sam into the mess but as they drove across town with Sitwell in the back he was forever grateful for the ex-Paratrooper.  "You'll never make it," Sitwell said for the hundredth time. James glared out the window silently willing the man to be silent. "He's got a point," Natasha said leaning forward, "We're cutting this a little close."  James sighed, just what he needed, Natasha agreeing with the infiltration's right hand. "We'll use him to get into the Helicarriers and bypass the biometric scanners."  "That's insane!" Sitwell sputtered. "Why don't you put a cork in it?" Sam snapped glaring darkly through the rearview mirror. "Okay but think, they probably already know I'm go-" Sitwell was cut off by the crash of glass and a force yanking him out of the broken back car window flinging him out into the oncoming traffic. Oh...

Cont... James wheezed as years of dust and rubble exited his lungs. He shifted Natasha in his arms as he jogged silently back to the hidden truck outside of the Fort. Zola. His skin was still crawling with the sound of the nut job's voice. He had to keep it together now, for Natasha. If he had a panic attack now they'd both end up dead. SHIELD was on their tail and STRIKE took no prisoners. He slid Natasha into the back seat, found an ice pack for her head, and finally flipped into the driver’s seat. He slid the shield off his arm. It was scratched and marred with the weight of a bunker collapsing on them. But it still held through, just like its original wielder. James closed his eyes and for the first time in years thought back without any distraction or alternative thought process, to Steve. The shield was like he could reach out to his friend and summon some of his strength. Until he couldn't. James let out a broken breath that was like a croak because of ...

Cont... If James knew punching Nat would wipe that infuriating smirk off her face he would but it wouldn't so he focused on the road. "Where did the greatest generation man learn how to steal a car?" Natasha ask propping up her feet. "Nazi Germany." James said, remembering how Dum Dum had taught them in the heat of the battle how to hotwire any sort of vehicle, "And get your feet off the dash, we’re borrowing." Natasha gave him a look that could only be described as a 'yes dad' look and took them down. "Can I ask you a question? And you don't have to answer but if you don't I feel like you are..." Natasha rambled. James rolled his eyes, "Spit it out." Natasha wore a goody-two-shoes grin, "Was that your first kiss since 1943?" James sighed which came out more like a groan.  "You don't have to! I'm just curious how much practice you've had." Natasha said, still grinning...

Cont... As it turned out answers were not to be James'. Fury had been serious when he'd said not to trust anyone and after being attacked by his own support team James had no trust left. He'd sadly dumped the Captain uniform since he was sure it was tracking. He'd almost dumped the shield but he couldn't bear to leave it. If he held it tightly and closed his eyes it was almost like his friend was there fighting with him. So he'd dumped it in water and prayed it would fry any tracking device and had hidden it before going back to the hospital. He'd been able to scrounge up money from his pockets for some civilian clothing so that he didn't look odd. Head down away from video cameras, it was only a matter of time until the whole government was man hunting him. He was good, just not that good. He came to a stop in front of the vending machine and his stomach dropped. The bubblegum was empty. Before the panic could set in a loud pop sounded...

Cont... Fury was dead. James still couldn't quite believe it as he watched the Black Widow say goodbye. He'd never seen Natasha like this. She'd been hit hard with this death in a way uncharacteristic of the assassin. Maria Hill came forward and quietly choked back tears. She and Fury had been close and this was not easy. "They need to take the body," Hill said softly, not wanting to disturb Natasha. James nodded stepping forward, "Natasha." She didn't respond; instead, she reached up and rested her hand on Fury's head before spinning on heel and strolling out her steel facade back up.  "Natasha!" James stepped out after her. "Why was Fury in your apartment?" Natasha snapped flipping around to face him. James shrugged, "I don't know." The spy regarded him a moment.  "Serg!" Rumlow called.  James turned to the head of the STRIKE team. "Headquarters wants us back ASAP." Ru...

Cont... It was late when James finally got back to his apartment. Sam and him had spent the day getting to know each other. The man was a stand-up guy and had a wicked sense of humor. James had told stories he hadn't told since his Commando days and they had both just about died laughing tears of happiness rolling down their faces. Sam had had some pretty good ones too. His wingman reminded James a lot of Steve. The day had been good though filled with moments of guilt and sadness it had been a good time.  James still hadn't slept and right now that was all that was on his mind. He'd dumped his gear and showered earlier that day and now his bed though still too soft sounded wonderful. The young nurse smiled as she came out of her apartment next to his holding her laundry, "Evening James." He nodded with a smile, "Evening Sharon." She bumped up her basket and turned to go. "Hey," James didn't know what made him stop her. All ...

Cont... James was exhausted. Between beating the crap out of Batroc last night sleeping maybe two hours on the flight back and then getting into an argument with Fury only to be shown one of the biggest armadas of firepower he'd ever seen all he wanted to do was collapse but deep down he just wanted someone to talk to. Natasha as much as she was trying to reach out to him was off the board so he went to the one place he never in a million years would have gone, the D.C. Veterans Assistance building. He caught the last of Sam’s class that they all brought stuff back. He was right, very, very right. James pushed the thought away as Sam came over, "Well look who it is, the running man." James smiled in spite of his mood, "Caught the last of the session, powerful stuff." Sam nodded, dropping the last of his first paperwork onto a desk, "We all are carrying the same things, paranoia, fear, guilt." James saw the look that passed through Sam's...

Cont... His alarm clock hadn't gone off. Granted he always woke up at 6:30 am on the dot due to the Army but he had wanted an extra hour of exercise before he got called in randomly. The Mall was normally empty at this time that was where James headed. He had learned how to use his enhanced body to his advantage over the years and that was why he ran as early as he could. He was fast, like inhuman fast. That attracted attention. He was surprised when he passed another runner, "On your right." The man huffed in response. The sun was lighting the cityscape with a pale morning light when James passed him again, "On your right." "Oh my right, got it." The man mumbled out. The day was fully upon them when James came upon the man again. The black man heard him coming this time, "Don't say it! Don't say it!"  James flew past him grinning, "On your right."  "Come on!" The man wheezed-yelled. James chuckl...

Cont... Someone was talking animatedly far away. He wasn't cold or stiff. James peeled his eyes open and was welcomed with a white ceiling. The uniform was gone and he was clad within SSR issue clothing. He was laying on a bed, not a hard cold metal floor. He was warm as sunlight streamed in. He was alive. Where was he? James focused on the talking, it was a radio playing the Phillies versus Dodgers May 25, 1941 baseball game. Memories flooded back. "This is the stupidest thing you have ever thought of Steve." Bucky hissed as they ducked into the stadium. "Oh come on Buck, live a little. When do we ever get a chance to both get off for a big Dodgers game?" Steve retorted ducking into some empty seats. Bucky grumbled sitting next to him. "You're gonna get us arrested Punk." "Shut up they're up to bat," Steve grumbled back. They did, in fact, get caught and somehow Steve talked the guard not only out of arresting...

Cont... James rose and dressed quietly before leaving the men to sleep. He found what he was looking for one of the few unopened bottles of scotch left. Taking it he found himself a glass and a secluded area. The feeling that Steve would disapprove almost made him stop but the need for that almost bliss of forgetting pushed him on. It was dark when he opened the bottle and by the time Carter found him it was brighter and he could hear the soldiers working.  "I thought you might do this though I would think by now you would be drunk beyond passed out," Peggy said sharply standing over him.  James smirked a bit fingering the empty bottle. He had figured it out as the hours progressed and the bliss he sought kept skipping away. His head was clear and all his senses were straight. The fog and heavy feeling that alcohol brought had never come nor had the drunken forgetfulness. "I apparently can't get drunk." He chuckled amid the sorrow. "He had the sam...

Cont... "Mission accomplished. We have the doctor. Captain, do you copy?" The radio crackled.  James looked over at the radio that had been lost in the scuffle. He was sitting on his knees staring out the hole. It may have been minutes or hours sitting there, the cold air whipping in. Everything was numb and cold as James slowly got up he picked up the brightly colored shield. In one emotion-filled moment, he almost chucked it out after his best friend. Then everything sharpened for James. Legacy, that was all that was left. Hunting Hydra had been Steve's mission, now it would have to be his legacy. Scooping up the radio James moved into a quieter train car. "Affirmative Gabe. I copy." "Sergeant? Where's the Captain?" Gabe ask clearly confused. James looked back at the gaping hole, "He's gone. Captain down. Stop this train and call in the rest of the Commandos."  There was shocked silence then, "Yes sir." Th...

I came up with this a while ago and everyone I pitched the idea to went OH MY GOODNESS YES! So here it is. This is an AU so the universe is mostly the same.  I am by no means agreeing with this idea or supporting Hydra Cap but I wanted to explore what something like this would do to Bucky. I have already been told this is a less than satisfactory idea, but I felt the need to write it.  I did change some things for story purposes but the bones will stay the same. The French Alps with their sheer cliffs and plummeting ravines were freezing. "Just once, why couldn't the target be in like, Africa?" Bucky grumbled zipping his jacket tighter as the Commandos scaled the thin trail to the ledge that overlooked the train tracks.  "What, your joints freezing up old man?" Steve shot back over his shoulder.  "Is it too much to ask of you to spontaneously combust for warmth?" Bucky shot back standing next to Steve on the ledge. "Love to ...