Chapter 1

The thunder rumbled low and menacing as rain poured from the skies and smacked the window before him. His breath misted against it steadily, fogging his view. His eyes were filled with nothing but the raindrops tainting the window and blurring together, their paths quick and fleeting. Like your memories. He grimaced, burying the thought. He didn't want to think right now. His body was constantly strained as it struggled to hold onto something, anything of what remained of him. The past him. But in this moment, he just let himself become memorized by the storm around him, the downpour a roar in his ears.

"You can't be serious!," a voice hissed in annoyance. The hushed tone pierced through the roaring in his ears, snapping him out of his trance. Even when he let his mind go still, his body never allowed him peace for long. His instincts were too sharp to allow himself to be completely relaxed. In fact he couldn't ever remember being in a tranquil state since….since he'd become this. The fingers on his right arm curled into a fist as his body tensed, all senses alert and prickling as he focused in on the voice that had spoken. It was coming from the room across the narrow hall, where his fate was being decided.

He didn't blame the people near him for their fear and the looks of uneasiness whenever he was around. The slight shifts their bodies made to shield themselves from him, the way their eyes never met his gaze. There was no erasing the fact that at one point in his life, he'd been a killer. Was a killer. How could they trust someone with so much strength and yet no control? Was he really even human? He was more machine than man and it hadn't taken long for one man to figure out how he worked. How to manipulate him. Unwillingly his eyes slid down to glance at what was left of his left arm. The metal gleamed in the low lighting, reminding him it haunted him no matter where he went; even in the darkness it followed.

More voices began mumbling in the room, their tones tense as they searched for a solution. One voice he recognized well, spoke up. "I just can't see how this fixes anything. So what? You manage to subdue him now, but what about later? If we come at this head on, we can help him. I didn't risk the lives of others or myself to have it come to this. I know he's unsteady. But I see him. I see glimpses of the man he used to be. I have to believe he can recreate a part of himself if he's given the chance. He's willing to accept help. Someone has to have some knowledge on that kind of technology-"

"Yes! There are plenty of people Steve! But who's gonna have the guts to even get near him?!" Natasha. Her voice was sharp and firm. " Engineers may be bold and a bit risky at times but they're not stupid enough to put themselves in that kind of danger. They know about him. We're talking about someone who goes in and out of remembering who they are." Her voice dropped lower as she growled the last part. " May I remind that one of those pasts includes a highly trained assassin and killer. You don't just shed that part of you away. I would know," She said quietly, "…. It becomes ingrained."

Ingrained. His jaw twitched. She was right. Even now as he stood in the hallway, those killer instincts were on high alert, always welling just underneath the surface, ready to strike. His eyes had already prowled over every evacuation route and he watched each one in intervals. He knew that around the corner at the end of the hall a guard waited. If he took the elevator, at each stop there were multiple guards patrolling, camera's watching. He knew down to the exact second how long it would take to reach any of them and slit their throats, their heartbeats throbbing against his knife. It currently sat tucked away on his right hip. The fingers on his right arm twitched. Or he could just crush their skulls with nothing but the pressure of his fingers. He shivered, the violent thought leaving as soon as it came. Natasha was wrong. It wasn't just ingrained. It was a permanent part of him. He couldn't even dream of reversing the effects. He would never know life without this bionic arm or the guilt he carried inside of him.

Natasha's slow exhale brought him back to the present. "Steve….I'm sorry, it's just-"

He cut her off, his voice quiet, "-I understand." Bucky could practically see her shifting uncomfortably with the rest of the room, trying to find something comforting to finish with. Why she cared, he didn't know. She wasn't the touchy-feely type. But something told him this mattered to her. She'd never really chosen a side when it had come down to it. She'd let Steve and him go when they had to, against Stark.

"I'm not sure what more we can do Cap." Bucky's eye twitched ever so slightly. The voice belonged to Sam Wilson or otherwise the obnoxious flying sidekick to Captain America. Sam irked Bucky in more ways than one. Unlike most, Sam didn't seem intimidated by him. Rather he felt the need to provoke him to see just how far he could go with his antics before having Bucky snap. And some odd part of Bucky also argued that back in the day, he'd been a much better pair with Captain America…..he didn't remember much of the old Bucky Barnes, but he'd heard he was charming.

Sam went on,"You've proven to us his worth as a friend and fellow comrade. I'm not doubting your opinion of him. But who would we find to take a look at him? We're technically labeled fugitives at the moment, in case anyone forgot..." Bucky exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. For what it was worth, Sam was at least loyal. Another voice joined in, this time the archerer. "The best and most trustworthy engineers either work for Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D….which is still basically Stark." Someone must have given Barton a quizzical look, because he further explained. "Stark may like to 'borrow' the best from S.H.I.E.L.D…..Anyway, the point is, we won't find someone willing to help here. Stark has his mind made up about the Soldier."

"Is there someone from the outside? Anyone retired? On vacation?" Sam tried. No one answered, the tension beginning to settle thicker in their silences.

Clint cut the silence this time, his voice quiet and contemplative. "I may know someone." The Widow growled instantly. "Barton…"

"No I'm serious this time! They did good work back in the day. Well, about seven years ago." Natasha groaned. "They resigned for personal reasons. But I know they never gave up their work even after they left. They weren't just good, they were incredible. Worked in all kinds of engineering-electrical, mechanical, chemical-you name it. Kid was a real up and coming genius. Hell, half the shit that keeps me safe, they designed. They worked under Stark himself." As if to assure them he added, "But I'm pretty sure she hasn't pledged her complete allegiance to him. I mean, she still lets me visit."

"So we're talking about a chick fixing up ole Sunshine? Better send me then, he's got to work on his flirting skills if we want her help." Sam chuckled, clearly thinking he was clever or trying to lighten up the mood. Another silence settled over the group until finally Steve spoke up once more. "How do we reach her? And how do we know we can trust her?"

Bucky could almost sense the slow smile spreading across Clint's face. "You leave the contacting to me, Cap. As for trust, I think she's got a good heart, not that it matters much anymore these days but...who else have we got?"

No one argued. There wasn't anyone else. Bucky tensed, waiting for Steve to give the word. He heard him intake a breath and then sight it out. "I want him….well again. We all do. Barton, give me what you have on her, I wanna know what we're getting into before it's official."

Bucky turned away from the room to face the window again. He knew a decision had been made, official or not. A decision he had no part in...and no right to have a part in. He splayed the fingers of his human arm out before him and then tried to imagine the fingers of his metal arm beside them. He wished they could be identical, the metal replaced for flesh. But he wasn't fully human anymore and he had to know what made this part of him tick. Who the past James Buchanan Barnes had been and then-determine what part of him would last in this internal struggle. Bucky Barnes, friend and comrade of The Captain or the Winter Soldier, a lone wolf assassin. He couldn't reverse time. Couldn't change the sins he'd committed. But he'd be damned if he continued to let HYDRA haunt him.

He turned to the window once more, the rain still heavy, the clouds thick and dark across the sky. He watched again as the drops hit the glass and then spiraled down, merging, then dripping and spiraling down again. An endless cycle in nature and yet it wasn't predictable. Never knowing the exact moment they'd merge. With his good hand, he reached out and touched the glass where a raindrop had reached the end of its journey. He could feel the coolness of the surface, the hum of rain hitting glass. He closed his eyes and let the downpour drown out his thoughts once more.