It wasn't exactly déjà vu, but Sam had to admit that standing in his kitchen frying eggs and listening to Natasha talk to a super soldier was bringing up some uncomfortable points of familiarity.
The Winter Soldier had told them to call him Barnes. He had washed up while Sam waited for Natasha to arrive from wherever his terse phone call had summoned her, though from hearing the sound of the running water Sam thought there had been a bath, not a shower. Barnes' clothes were not perfectly clean, but he'd refused Sam's offer of loaners and didn't smell nearly bad enough for Sam to be interested in pushing it.
He had no illusions about how Barnes viewed him.
"I didn't know why I had to save him," Barnes was saying, staring at the cup of coffee Sam had made him. He'd even drunk some. Sam intended to insist that he ate, if he was too screwed up to understand on his own why he needed to. "I pulled him onto the shore, made sure he was breathing, and walked away." Natasha nodded. "The next day I...I saw his face on the side of a bus." Sam glanced at him and saw one of those faint expressions: remorse. "I went to the museum. I saw." He stopped. The hiss-crackle of the frying eggs was the loudest sound in the room. "I saw who I used to be. I sat in the projection room for almost three hours, remembering."
From the look on Natasha's face, that wasn't as simple as it sounded. Sam grimaced and flipped the eggs, one-two-three-four. "I still don't have everything. I'm not sure everything I remember is true. But I remember Steve."
"How do you know Hydra has him?" Sam asked, flicking the burner off.
Barnes looked up and this expression was clearer; he might as well have been rolling his eyes at Sam's stupidity. "Because you don't," he said.
"We need to get some backup on this," Natasha said. "Clint's plane will be landing soon. And I think we should call Stark."
*
It took him a while to wake up, and he couldn't quite remember why that was unusual. He was lying on a thin mattress, not nearly comfortable but not a bare surface either, and his hands were tied together. So were his feet. It occurred to him as he came fully awake that he didn't have any idea where he was or where he was going--from the sound and feel he was in a vehicle.
He opened his eyes and discovered he was in a cage, a near-cube of bars that filled one end of a boxy room that was probably the back of a truck. It was just large enough for him to lie full-length. This can't be good, he thought, but it felt reflexive, more something he ought to think than a really urgent concern. There were guards with guns on benches along the side walls; when he started trying to sit up they all turned to look at him. From the far end a woman stood, and he frowned. He remembered looking up at her from a chair that reclined like a dentist's, for a few seconds before...his mind winced away from the memory.
"I'm glad to see you're awake," the woman said, crouching to make their eyes nearly level. "Can you tell me your name?"
He frowned in thought. Names flitted through his mind, NatashaSamBuckyRumlowFurySteveMariaPierce, and he picked the one that seemed the most important. "Bucky," he said, trying not to let his voice rise in inquiry. It occurred to him that he should be worried that he wasn't sure. "Bucky Barnes."
The woman's eyebrows flicked up. "Is that so?" she said. "Interesting. Well, Mr. Barnes, you should get a little more rest. We have a long way to go and when we get there, you're going to be busy."
"Why am I handcuffed?" he asked.
She smiled. "You're a very strong man," she said. "We weren't sure how you'd act when you woke up. It was safer, for you and for us."
That seemed...reasonable? "What happened to me?"
Her smile broadened. "That's not important anymore," she said. "All that's important now is your future."
Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 2/?
The Winter Soldier had told them to call him Barnes. He had washed up while Sam waited for Natasha to arrive from wherever his terse phone call had summoned her, though from hearing the sound of the running water Sam thought there had been a bath, not a shower. Barnes' clothes were not perfectly clean, but he'd refused Sam's offer of loaners and didn't smell nearly bad enough for Sam to be interested in pushing it.
He had no illusions about how Barnes viewed him.
"I didn't know why I had to save him," Barnes was saying, staring at the cup of coffee Sam had made him. He'd even drunk some. Sam intended to insist that he ate, if he was too screwed up to understand on his own why he needed to. "I pulled him onto the shore, made sure he was breathing, and walked away." Natasha nodded. "The next day I...I saw his face on the side of a bus." Sam glanced at him and saw one of those faint expressions: remorse. "I went to the museum. I saw." He stopped. The hiss-crackle of the frying eggs was the loudest sound in the room. "I saw who I used to be. I sat in the projection room for almost three hours, remembering."
From the look on Natasha's face, that wasn't as simple as it sounded. Sam grimaced and flipped the eggs, one-two-three-four. "I still don't have everything. I'm not sure everything I remember is true. But I remember Steve."
"How do you know Hydra has him?" Sam asked, flicking the burner off.
Barnes looked up and this expression was clearer; he might as well have been rolling his eyes at Sam's stupidity. "Because you don't," he said.
"We need to get some backup on this," Natasha said. "Clint's plane will be landing soon. And I think we should call Stark."
*
It took him a while to wake up, and he couldn't quite remember why that was unusual. He was lying on a thin mattress, not nearly comfortable but not a bare surface either, and his hands were tied together. So were his feet. It occurred to him as he came fully awake that he didn't have any idea where he was or where he was going--from the sound and feel he was in a vehicle.
He opened his eyes and discovered he was in a cage, a near-cube of bars that filled one end of a boxy room that was probably the back of a truck. It was just large enough for him to lie full-length. This can't be good, he thought, but it felt reflexive, more something he ought to think than a really urgent concern. There were guards with guns on benches along the side walls; when he started trying to sit up they all turned to look at him. From the far end a woman stood, and he frowned. He remembered looking up at her from a chair that reclined like a dentist's, for a few seconds before...his mind winced away from the memory.
"I'm glad to see you're awake," the woman said, crouching to make their eyes nearly level. "Can you tell me your name?"
He frowned in thought. Names flitted through his mind, NatashaSamBuckyRumlowFurySteveMariaPierce, and he picked the one that seemed the most important. "Bucky," he said, trying not to let his voice rise in inquiry. It occurred to him that he should be worried that he wasn't sure. "Bucky Barnes."
The woman's eyebrows flicked up. "Is that so?" she said. "Interesting. Well, Mr. Barnes, you should get a little more rest. We have a long way to go and when we get there, you're going to be busy."
"Why am I handcuffed?" he asked.
She smiled. "You're a very strong man," she said. "We weren't sure how you'd act when you woke up. It was safer, for you and for us."
That seemed...reasonable? "What happened to me?"
Her smile broadened. "That's not important anymore," she said. "All that's important now is your future."