AN: The story is a sequel to "Alternatively" I would suggest you read it first.

If you haven't here's what you need to know to understand this first chapter: 2012 Steve and Tony from the alternate Endgame timeline discover Hydra is a thing (thanks to 2023 Steve and Tony) and Steve goes undercover inside Hydra to try to root them out. Hydra decides to make Steve Bucky's handler.

(Chapter 14 starts to cover stuff not covered in "Alternatively".)

The Asset blinks awake and coughs, the strands of his hair hanging wet and limp by his face as he bends over, his body shivering and trembling as he thaws out from cryofreeze. Once he's awake and warm enough to start recognising his surroundings, he can see Agent Rumlow standing in front of him, his hand on his gun and a bored expression on his face.

"Alright, let's go," he orders sharply, turning to head out of the cryo-room, his shoulders straight and tense as he walks.

The Asset steps jerkily off his cryo-platform, trying to supress his shivers as he complies. In front of him, Rumlow marches swiftly, leading the way down the hall towards a room that he instinctively labels 'the Maintenance Room'.

He does his best to follow closely as they walk, but the effects of his most recent cryofreeze makes it difficult to keep from stumbling, and the wet strands of his hair send shivers running down his spine. Rumlow stops briefly at the door leading to the Vault, turning as if to make sure he's following properly and he ducks his head, hoping the submissive gesture will offset any impatience for his post-cryofreeze behavior.

Thankfully, Rumlow's scowl is no worse than usual, and he steps aside to allow him to enter the Vault. He steps inside and automatically scans the agents in black tactical gear that line the walls, for some reason, he feels that there are more than usual.

Thinking about the number of agents in the room isn't his job though, so he discards the thought almost immediately as he moves to stand at attention behind Agent Rumlow, his eyes fixed distantly on the wall behind his recalibration chair.

Even with his eyes focused directly in front of him, he is still aware of the two other significant people standing in the room. One of them is Handler-Pierce, standing calmly near the center of the room in his usual grey suit. The other man standing beside him is dressed in some kind of blue uniform with a white star in the middle. The Asset can't begin to guess why he's here, but the man's eyes widen and he seems to give a start of surprise as he enters.

"Bucky?" He sputters, his voice tight with shock.

The man is not a handler, agent, or technician, so the Asset mentally shuffles him down in his priority list, keeping his eyes fixed in front of him while he waits for his next orders.

"Asset," Handler-Pierce's voice cuts in, catching his attention immediately. "Go sit."

Orders received, the Asset marches automatically towards the recalibration chair and settles down into it, his gaze now fixed blankly on a new wall as he waits to find out what kind of mission he will receive.

Handler-Pierce doesn't address him right away though, turning instead to talk to the man in blue. Since no immediate mission seems to be forthcoming, the Asset allows himself to zone out slightly, letting the words from their conversation wash over him without really registering them.

If he were on a mission, he would have been careful to pay attention to every word spoken, but right now it isn't his place to listen, and zoning out allows him a chance to mull over the strange word that the man in blue had spoken.

What is Bucky? A distant part of him wonders. The word seems… something. Something about that word…

The man in blue's voice rises in anger, and even though he's not a handler or an agent, the Asset finds himself mentally tuning in to him. He's careful to keep his eyes fixed in front of him of course, but something about that man…

The man turns to look at him and seems to stumble forward half a step, his face pale. Around him the room freezes, tension piling up as the agents that line the walls subtly clutch their guns closer to themselves. The man stills as well, and out of the corner of his eye the Asset can see him weighing his options, his eyes staring at him, a storm of emotions swirling around inside.

After a moment, the man carefully relaxes before returning to his conversation with Handler-Pierce. (And the Asset realises his tongue is pressing almost painfully into the roof of his mouth, only beginning to relax as the tension in the room eases off.)

Something is… something about that man…

Almost against his will, he finds his eyes drifting towards the man in blue. Their gaze meets for a half-second and he feels his heartbeat skyrocket as he darts his eyes away. Thankfully, no one accuses him of malfunctioning and soon he learns why the man in blue is so important.

Handler-Pierce turns towards him and plants himself directly in front of him. "Asset," he says shortly. "Prepare for change in protocol."

He focuses immediately and nods his head. "Confirmed," he replies.

Handler-Pierce gestures for the man in blue and he marches over stiffly. "Rogers, will now be designated as your Head-Handler," Pierce rattles off and the Asset nods, mentally reshuffling the man in blue— Handler-Rogers' priority. "Confirm changes," Pierce orders, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Confirmed," The Asset replies immediately, his eyes flickering ever so slightly to his new handler. Pierce turns to discuss various aspects of his handling with his new Head-Handler, and the Asset has the faintest passing thought that maybe, he's been handled by this man before.

There's something about him…

The next time he's woken up from cryofreeze, Handler-Rogers is waiting for him in the Vault. He's not wearing the blue uniform today. Instead he's wearing some sort of checkered shirt over a white undershirt and a pair of tan coloured pants. The Asset shouldn't care about what his handler's wears, but the outfit sticks in his mind anyways. It feels… weird to see someone dressed in something other than a suit or uniform.

He's dressed like a civilian, he realises as he takes a seat in his chair. Like something a target would wear. Of course, he's not a target (his mind rebels at even the thought) but it's been a very long time since he's been around anyone Important wearing those kinds of clothes.

Everyone else in the room is dressed normally, the agents in black and the technicians in their white coats, most of them nameless and unimportant. Pierce isn't here today, but his importance is lessened slightly, now that Handler-Rogers is his new handler, so he brushes the observation away almost as soon as it appears.

Throughout the day Agent Rumlow and some of the technicians start walking his new handler through his various protocols and commands. And as the Asset waits patiently and demonstrates certain commands when necessary, he finds himself, more often than not, watching Handler-Rogers out of the corner of his eye.

There's something about him… something in the way he holds himself… It's confusing. He smiles amiably and makes a show of looking relaxed around the other agents, but somehow, in the slant of an eyebrow, the set of his shoulders, the Asset can see a storm brewing.

It's not really any of his business, but it's… interesting.

He does his best to be on his best behavior for his new handler. He probably won't be sent on any missions until his training with Handler-Rogers is finished (or an emergency comes up, whichever comes first), and he wants to make sure he shows his handler how good of an asset he can be.

He always seems to be messing up though, being too slow or getting in the way, and the other agents are careful to chastise him for it. A part of him curls up in despair every time it happens in front of his new handler. His handler is never going to think he's a good asset if this keeps up.

And for some reason that is important.

Maybe it's because Handler-Rogers is his Head-Handler but he finds he really really… Not wants, (the Asset cannot want), but… the idea of making his handler proud is, is good.

His efforts are tested shortly after he starts training with his new handler. Handler-Rogers is waiting for him in the Maintenance Room again and he's doing his best to keep up with the agent who had gotten him up from cryofreeze. It's difficult, because he's still shivering from the cold and the post-cryo waves of nausea make it hard to walk in a straight line. He does his best but he can feel the agent growing more impatient by the minute.

"Move it!" The man hisses as he waits at the entrance to the Maintenance Room. The annoyance in his voice and the rapid tapping of his foot prompts the Asset to move faster, but his balance is still shaky, and he stumbles instead.

He just barely manages to catch sight of his handler before his head whips to the side and a spark of pain travels up his cheek, the sound of a slap sharp in the quiet room. The world spins and he blinks dizzily, trying to keep his balance as he recovers. Falling over now would only invite more punishment and his handler has already seen enough—

His heart lurches when he manages to look up and he sees his handler looming over the agent, the man's hand clasped tightly in his own and a look of fire in his eyes.

"Hit him again," he grinds out, his voice dark and foreboding. "And I will break every bone in your hand." The Asset keeps himself as still as possible, barely even breathing as he watches the pulse in the agent's throat jump jerkily. "Do I make myself clear," his handler snaps, and the agent's head jerks into a frantic nod.

"Y-yes sir," he stutters out, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head in fear.

"Good," his handler spits, and the Asset drops his eyes as his handler takes a step back and glares around the room. He doesn't quite… understand exactly why his handler is angry, but he seems to be mad at the agents, rather than at him.

"If I am to be the Asset's handler," Handler-Rogers bites out, his back ramrod straight. "Then he will be handled as I see fit." His chin juts out stubbornly and for some reason something about that is… familiar. "Any of you have a problem with him, you come to me first."

The Asset's eyes snap up for a second before he remembers himself and looks down, a timid 'Yes sir' echoing from the agents around him as he tries to comprehend what he's just heard. His handler… wants to regulate his punishments himself? Does… does that mean the other agents aren't allowed to punish him anymore?

No. That doesn't make sense, that wouldn't be…

"Asset, to me," his handler orders sharply, breaking into his train of thought and spinning on his heel to march stiffly out of the room.

He hurries to comply and feels his heart pounding a little heavier than usual in his chest. His handler is still angry, and he had said that he wanted to handle his punishment himself… does that mean he's going deal out his own punishment now?

He eyes the hard lines of his handler's shoulders apprehensively and tries to keep pace with him as they march down the hall, stopping to stand perfectly at attention once they enter the training room. To his surprise, his handler doesn't immediately list off some kind of punishment or discipline upon arriving, instead rolling his shoulders and breathing out before taking up a fighting stance in the middle of the room.

"Sparring positions," he says, his voice more of a dull knife, rather than the sword it had been. "No lethal or permanent damage." Relief floods through the Asset and he readies himself immediately, intent on showing his handler just how good he can be.

"Confirmed," he says, before eyeing up his opponent.

It… isn't until after he throws the first punch that he realises he'd been so intent on showing his skills that he hadn't thought to consider whether or not his handler is a match for him. His stomach drops in horror and he seems to watch his hand move toward his handler's face in slow motion. If he punches his handler things probably aren't going to look good for him.

To his surprise and ultimate relief, his handler blocks the punch and immediately retaliates, his face tight with concentration. He relaxes at that and settles into the motions, impressed to find that… actually… his handler is really good. He blinks in surprise as they step back from their first bout and narrows his eyes, recalculating.

A part of him thinks that maybe, his handler might actually be able to keep up with him and a bubble of excitement swells up in him at the thought. That hasn't happened for a long time—

—dusty ground, brown jacket, a flurry of fists and blond hair—

The Asset scowls as he pushes away whatever that had been. He can't malfunction now. He needs to perform well for his handler. He throws another punch, thankful that his momentary slip doesn't seem to have been noticed as they continue sparring. A small tiny part of him curls up internally as they continue to exchange blows, pleased that he has a handler who can keep up with him.

He pauses instantly though, once his handler eventually raises his hand, signalling the end of their fight. They're both breathing hard and for a moment, he almost wishes they could keep going.

"Well done," his handler says, the praise sending a bolt of surprise shooting down his spine. That… that… The Asset very carefully does not narrow his eyes in confusion. His handler had praised him.

The next second, an agent is sticking her head through the doorway and his handler's focus is elsewhere. "Secretary Pierce wants to see you in the Maintenance Room," she informs them, and the Asset feels a small kernel of dread drop into his stomach.

He doubts that Pierce is here for a mission.

Still, he complies as his handler leads him back down the hall, mentally shifting back a little as they walk towards the Maintenance Room. Pierce is waiting for them when they arrive, along with Rumlow and several technicians, their white coats making it clear what is about to come.

Pierce nods towards the chair, confirming the Asset's hunch, before sticking his hands in his pockets. "We felt it time for you to learn how to prep the Asset for a mission," he says to his handler, and the Asset can feel himself rapidly checking out of the conversation.

"Of course," his handler replies stiffly, and a distant part of the Asset notices how tense he's gotten again. "Asset, go sit," he says, turning to him, the order sharp against the blurry edges the world is quickly becoming.

The Asset complies dully, walking robotically towards the chair and sitting down mechanically. Around him, the technicians start darting around and the chair clamps down on him. A technician offers him his mouth guard and he opens for it automatically, the rubber stiff and hard against his tongue.

The technicians prep for the procedure and no matter how hard he tries, he can't stop his body's reaction to the approaching maintenance. His heartrate doubles and his breathing speeds up, and, for a split second, the world sharpens as his eyes lock onto his handler. But the next second the chair is whirling around him and the headpieces of the machine spin around to position themselves over his face.

His breath catches and the half-second before the machine starts seems to stretch for an eternity before a scream rips out of him and electricity pours into his brain.

The pain is white-hot and blinding, shocks sparking through his brain like fire until it's impossible to feel anything else. Thought is impossible in the face of such an assault and time is senseless here, there's nothing else, there's never been anything else—

He wakes up and the familiar sound of his trigger words greet him, digging into his brain and opening doors to his Winter Soldier training and protocols. Electric aftershocks still run through his body, causing him to twitch and gasp, but it doesn't matter because—

"Soldat?"

He looks up. His handler is in front of him.

"Ready to comply."

oOo

The Asset follows his handler carefully down the hall, standing perfectly at attention once they reach the door of his cell. His handler drags the door open and gestures for him to enter. "Wait here until further orders," he says, his eyes resting on him before scanning the room.

Orders received, the Asset silently enters the small room and stands attentively in front of the cot, his hands clasped behind his back.

For some reason, his handler seems to hesitate at the doorway, his jaw flexing as he gives him a look. "Sleep—" his lips press together, and his eyes dart around before he nods towards the bed. "Sleep a minimum of three hours a night," he orders, and the Asset very carefully does not blink in surprise at the unusual command.

"Confirmed," he replies, despite his confusion, because that's his job.

Still, his handler seems to hesitate. "Sleep more if you want to," he says finally. "I'll be back in a few days." He steps away then, seemingly satisfied, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him with a definite thud.

The Asset waits until Handler-Rogers' footsteps have faded before he relaxes out of his tense stance, turning over the odd set of orders in his head.

Usually his handlers don't bother with his sleep, only ensuring that he gets enough so as to not compromise a mission and, besides that, he's found that it's better to be found alert rather than asleep when being fetched by an impatient agent, so his sleep schedule is generally irregular.

But still, this handler wants three hours of sleep a night. He eyes the yellowing tile that lines the walls of his cell and privately hopes that his handler will not become angry, should he find it difficult to comply with such a strange order.

He would try of course, but something instinctively tells him that he isn't used to regulated sleeping hours.

He even gave me permission to sleep more, a quiet part of his brain whispers and he pushes it away. His handler had said, 'sleep more if you want'. The Asset can not want, so the offer is irrelevant. Still, the same corner of his brain tries to reason. He probably won't punish me if I happen to sleep more than three hours, right?

Possibly, he concedes, his mouth twisting. But on the other hand, his handler could be using the loose phrasing to test him, to see whether or not he would comply accurately and not fall prey to… temptation.

Until he knows what kind of handler Handler-Rogers is, it would probably be best not to risk anything yet. The Asset's lips press together at the thought and he glances down at his cot, mentally calculating how long between now and his next feeding time. He isn't ready to use up his three hours of sleep just yet, and he doesn't dare trying to sleep more than that. There isn't much to do in his cell though, besides wait for his handler or another agent.

But that's okay. He is good at waiting.

oOo

The next person to open his cell is not his handler, but Agent Rumlow, his eyes bored and his hand on his gun as he gestures for the Asset to follow him down to the Provisions room. Inside, the Asset waits patiently while Agent Rumlow goes over to the counter that lines one side of the wall. A small sink is inlaid and Agent Rumlow pulls out a glass and a bag of powder from one of the cupboards before turning on the tap and beginning to mix the Asset's evening rations.

A glass of beige liquid is shoved at him and he drinks quickly, knowing some of the agents get impatient with this aspect of working with the Winter Soldier. Once he's finished, Agent Rumlow takes the glass from him and gestures sharply towards the doorway at the back of the room.

"Make it quick," he says as he sets the glass in the sink and taps his fingers restlessly against his gun.

The Asset complies, walking purposefully towards the doorway. Inside, a steel toilet sits on one side of the room, and a showerhead and drain on the other.

There's no door to separate the two rooms so he can hear Agent Rumlow's muted conversation with a passing agent as he walks towards the toilet.

"Babysitting the Asset, I see," the agent says and Agent Rumlow scoffs.

"Yeah. Not exactly what I imagined when I was told I'd be working with the Winter Soldier."

"Just be glad he can wipe himself," the agent replies, a sneer evident in his voice.

Agent Rumlow laughs nastily and the agent sniggers as well before excusing himself back to wherever he's supposed to be.

The Asset thinks nothing of their words because that isn't his job, and once he's finished with the toilet, he walks back to stand at attention in front of Agent Rumlow, finding the man leaning lazily against the counter, a look of contempt on his face. With a sigh, he pushes himself up and waves to follow as he heads to the door.

"I bet Rogers would follow you around with a roll of toilet paper if he thought you needed it," he jeers at him as they reach his cell, a less than friendly smile on his face. The Asset doesn't reply, only stepping silently into his cell, and Agent Rumlow scoffs again before dragging the door closed behind him.

Inside his cell, he contemplates Agent Rumlow's words. From his tone of voice, he had been insulting his current handler, and while that shouldn't really matter to him, the Asset still finds himself… distracted, by Agent Rumlow's comments.

oOo

The next time his handler comes, they get into a van and Agent Rollins drives them outside of the city so that the Asset can demonstrate his rifle skills. After dropping them off, Agent Rollins spends most of the exercise in the car, content to spend the time on his phone while Handler-Rogers evaluates his skills.

As they walk out further into the secluded field, the Asset can't help noticing how his handler's shoulders seem to lose some of their tension, the further away from the van they get.

The sky is overcast as they walk towards the targets that stretch out at various distances in front of them. The grass is brittle under their feet as they draw to a stop beside a collection of firearms spread out on a tarp and he waits patiently as his handler picks up a M2010 Enhanced Sniper Rifle and hands it to him.

"Here, show me what you can do with this one, Buc—" His handler's face twists abruptly, and he cuts himself off, his lips pressing together as his hands tighten on the proffered gun.

The Asset stands uncertainly for a moment as his handler's face goes blank and he swallows heavily, holding out the gun. "Can you hit the far targets over there?" He asks a little roughly.

He can, and the strange incident is soon forgotten as the Asset cycles through the different available weapons. He finds it's… nice, in a way, to be able to be outside without a mission, even if the day is a little cold.

Plus, his handler doesn't hover over him as he works, eyes sharp and searching for any form of mistake. He's willing to be impressed, instead of automatically expecting failure (which feels slightly foreign) and, he doesn't seem likely to explode should failure actually occur. (One of the Asset's shots lands a little off from the center of the target, and his handler doesn't even comment.)

Strangely, the lack of a negative response prompts the Asset to try to work harder, to really show his handler what he can do. Without the threat of retribution, he finds he can relax a little because he doesn't have to constantly analyse every micro-expression his handler makes.

That, and the wind in his hair, the sun pushing away the chill of the day… It's liberating.

Afterwards, the drive back to the Vault almost feels… depressing, and he's not sure why.

oOo

He's noticed that his handler's face changes around the other Hydra agents.

Such as now, for example, while the technicians scramble around him to prep him for cryofreeze. His handler's face is closed off and hard, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Even when he's more animated, talking and smiling with the other agents, something about him feels… tense.

The Asset doesn't blink as a technician steps closer to him and puts an IV into his right hand, his mind more preoccupied with his handler's behaviour.

When they are alone, his handler is more relaxed, and he's the most forgiving handler the Asset has ever had. But sometimes… sometimes there's almost something… pained in his eyes, and he wonders how the other agents fail to see it.

The IV drips cold into his arm and soon he's led to his cryochamber, the world fading out a little as he prepares to be frozen again.

A technician goes over the process with his handler and he looks… something about how he looks…

The capsule closes and a sudden aching, biting cold digs into his bones until he can feel nothing at all, and the world fades out the rest of the way.

oOo

Time doesn't really matter to the Asset. In a way, time doesn't really touch him. He forgets its passage or is frozen through it often enough that every time he wakes up, its like being reborn, over and over again. Still, no matter how out of touch with time he is, he can still recognise from the progress in his training that he will probably be sent on a mission with his new handler soon.

With this in mind, he isn't surprised when, on his most recent awakening, his handler doesn't order him into another round of training, instead sending him straight into his cell with orders to 'wait for further instructions'.

The bulb in the ceiling of his cell buzzes continually with a mind-numbing dullness and the Asset has already counted the tiles that line the walls a dozen times.

He can wait. He's good at waiting. He's pretty sure that one time his cryochamber hadn't been functioning so his handler at the time had ordered him to stand by the wall and wait for further orders, and he'd waited for a full two days, almost completely immobile while he waited to be put away again.

The Asset is a tool. He knows this, and he will wait for how ever long it takes for his handler to return, because that's his job.

(He is glad however, that his handler had once again given him permission to sleep while he is away. Sometimes… sometimes he even just lays down in his cot, not sleeping, but not standing at attention either, his ear strained continuously for the footsteps of any approaching agents.)

It's a round and a half of rations later when his handler returns. His mouth tight and his shoulders tense as he changes and prepares for their first mission. There's… something about the set of his shoulders that makes the Asset want to reassure him that he will perform well. He will make sure that this mission goes well. He won't fail him.

His handler takes responsibility for suiting him up (and a very small part of the Asset relaxes a little, once he's sure he won't be roughly shoved into his uniform. Another, even smaller part of him thinks that this is probably the best handler he's ever had.)

His handler's lips press together as he hands over his mask and goggles, and he slips the mask on easily. He hangs onto the straps of the goggles with one hand though, not wanting to put them on until he gets outside. His heart hiccups a little as he does so, worried about angering anyone with his choice, but his handler doesn't even seem to notice, instead reaching over to hand him the file for their target.

He's been given files before, but often his handlers will just spout out his orders without ever giving him a chance to look over anything himself. He's glad this handler is allowing him to read through it himself, because now he can be sure he has as much information as possible to insure a successful mission.

His eyes scan the information sheet for his target, an attached photo showing the profile of a Black man wearing an eyepatch. He stares at it for a moment, memorising his features before going on to read the rest of the file.

TARGET: Nicholas J. Fury, Director of SHIELD

MISSION: Track and eliminate

AN: So, I hope you liked the first chapter. Bucky is pretty robotic right now, but a part of him is definitely affected by Steve.

I will be updating this fic weekly for as long as I can, I have about 12 chapters written so far but this fic will probably be at least 20 chapters.