Hey, everyone! SO, as some of you know I published this story on three years ago. Recently I started college and have thus learned a LOT about writing. I mean I'm still not a pro or anything, but I have learned a tremendous amount. I rewrote this story from equal parts of embarrassment, need for practice, and my love for this story as well Bucky and Steve. I hope this is more bearable than its predecessor. Also, comments make my day so, uh, haha, that would be real nice of you all. Anyway, thank you to all who have read this story (And a special thanks to everyone who has reviewed even if it was just to tell me the code was showing. I have no idea why that keeps happening? Oh well.). Enjoy.

He was good at what he did; James Buchanan Barnes was maybe even the best, if not for Natasha Romanoff it would be a definitive. And he liked what he did as much as anyone with his job could like what they do, and after everything that had happened to him over the past seventy plus years he told himself wouldn't really be fit for any other job. And it wasn't like the Winter Soldier would be high on anyone's list for potential employees.

Not much had happened lately. He, Steve, and Sam had mostly been working together to tie up loose ends left from the fall of Hydra, and it was an honest to God mess. What was left of Hydra was struggling to rebuild, working just as hard as Bucky was to rebuild his life. Steve and Sam had been part time on Bucky's trail and part time on keeping Hydra subdued before they had found Bucky. Chaos had ensued from there, and when it began to calm down the three h=of them had begun working together, much to Steve's secret delight.

Today was the same, but in a way different. A loose end that had managed to become the beginning link to a chain, and not a chain the world needed wrapped around it. After only a month and a half of cryo, Wanda had figured out a way to remove the code words and such from Bucky's mind; she had offered to even remove memories, but what was the point? He had them. They were of him and of things he had done, and if for any other reason than to torture himself, they could potentially come in handy when going toe to toe with Hydra. And they were his. Not much seemed to be lately. So, he was back on the field. Back with Steve.

He straightened up his posture, and relaxed his facial expression as he walked into a crowded hall. The hall was long, and filled with doors to offices and conference rooms. He needed to get to the top floor, where the main office was located. There was a specific file, full of important intel on Hydra, that they had located to be on a computer hard drive at that location. Being recognized was always a risk, but people where people. They never notice much. But for a split second he could have sworn the Janitor, who was changing trash bags in a nearby garbage can, had had a glint of recognition in his eyes. Bucky smiled and nodded as to say 'good day', and continued on his way.

He pushed the up button on the elevator and waited. Everyone went along with their day, never noticing the famed Winter Soldier was standing right in front of their faces. The place was familiar, and he was sure he had been placed there at some point. The potted plant to the left of the elevator was extremely familiar. He thought for a second about how silly it was that he remembered a fake plant, but not his youngest siblings name. He knew now, of course, but Becca had to tell him when he had stopped by her house while he was on the run. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. He pressed the button for the top floor.

The office was empty, proving his timing had been right. He spoke through the small communicator on his wrist letting Steve and Sam know he was there and the room was empty. There were a few people walking around outside of the office, but they would only assume he was supposed to be there. Honestly, he enjoyed the feeling that brought. The feeling of being perfectly hidden in plain sight, of not being recognized for the sole reason that he looked like he knew what he was doing. He located the file on the computer and downloaded it to a USB drive he had brought in his pocket. He stared out the window as he waited for it to finish downloading. It was a large window, looking out over a field which turned into a forested mountain. The office it's self was neat and tidy, and over all professional. A sign popped up on the screen, signifying the download was successful, and he removed it. He was putting the USB back in his pocket when he felt a sharp sting in the back of his neck.

That's what he remembered as he ran through the past few hours in his mind. His head was pounding, and his whole body ached. As he came farther away from unconsciousness he began to realize he could barely move. Panic cursed through his body like lightning, and he forced himself to open his eyes. That hurt.

He began to look around. There was a door, the walls and floor where concrete, he was in a metal chair which was bolted to the floor. His wrists and ankles where cuffed to the said chair. He tested the strength of his tethers with his metal arm, but nothing came of it. He was trapped. The only clothes he had where his pants. His shirt, shoes, socks, and all equipment where gone.

The door creaked open, and a man slightly larger than himself wielding a fair-sized duffle bag walked in shutting the door behind himself. "I gotta few questions for you, Winter Soldier. It's good to have you back."

Bucky smiled in return.

"First off, your buddys' here right? Captain America?" Silence. "Hey, you're not helping anything, here." The man said. Bucky stared at the wall behind the agent. "All right, pal, this is how it's gonna be. You can answer my questions, or you can find out what's in the duffle bag over there. I'm gettin' paid by the hour so it don't matter to me."

"Well, I've always been pretty curious." Bucky said, his voice sounded scratchy when he spoke.

The man shrugged. "Your choice. If you want me to stop, you tell me where your friend is, an' what he's planning." The man smirked, and began to dig through the bag he had tossed aside.

What Bucky guessed to be hours passed, and his whole body ached and throbbed with pain. There was blood everywhere, his blood. Dripping from his face, coating his chest and arms and soaking his pants; blood oozing from where his fingernails had once been. And the pain was not about to go away anytime soon. Holding his head up was becoming more and more of a chore every second, and the man didn't relent. It had been a while since the man had given up asking questions and switched to only causing physical harm to his employer's former assassin.

The man's fist connected hard with Bucky's already colorful left cheek. "Now, what are you and the other's planning." The man growled. Bucky only shook his head weakly. The man picked up the metal rod that had been retired to the floor and brought it down on Bucky's right hand, creating a loud cracking noise. Bucky shuddered, but didn't allow any sound. He lifted his head to look the man in the eye.

"We aren't planning anything, seeing as I'm here, and they are who knows where." Bucky replied.

"That's the wrong answer." The man said, tossing the rod back on the ground. He punched Bucky in the chest, causing another sharp cracking sound. Bucky gasped for air. "I'll be back." The man growled as he packed up is tools, and walked out cell door, shutting and locking it behind him.

Bucky groaned and tried to sit up from his slouched position, but the many wounds and restraints made moving excruciating. The sluggishness the knock out drug had caused was replaced with the sluggishness of blood loss. He hoped and prayed Steve would get here soon. A chill ran up his spine and he shuddered. Only seconds later his vision faded and his body went completely limp.