Chapter Text
James (or Bucky, according to Steve, but James didn’t really fell like Bucky any more) was still confused about what was going on, but that was nothing new. It seemed that confusion was all he knew these days. Ever since he’d began sort of remembering who he was – or, better yet, who he used to be.
They were in an old Hydra bunker in Siberia, after having fought the others in the airport and leaving their teammates behind. James had followed Steve’s lead, though now he was starting to have some doubts about it all. And, after all that, the guy who seemed to have orchestrated this whole thing had already killed the Winter Soldiers (James was glad for that, he really was – just him was more than enough). What the hell was going on then? What had this whole thing been for if not to release the Soldiers?
And there was Stark – who seemed really familiar but James couldn’t figure out how, damn spotty memory – who had shown up to help them even though Steve had said he was against them (and even though he’d fought against them at the airport). It didn’t really make much sense, that, though. Weren’t they friends? Or at least colleagues? Teammates? James didn’t understand why Steve had insisted on fighting the others instead of trying to convince them about the threat of the Winter Soldiers. Surely they would have helped? That was, Stark was here, wasn’t he? He’d come to help. James just didn’t understand.
Zemo was still talking, though, so James tried to pay attention. He’d lost people in Sokovia and now he wanted revenge. The wanted to… destroy an empire? What empire? There was something he wanted them to see, though, and it couldn’t be anything good.
The TV was switched on and they turned to it.
“I know that road,” Stark said, and James got a very bad feeling. He thought he knew that road too.
On the screen, a car crashed into a tree and they all watched as James – the Asset – got off his bike and walked to the man who had crawled out of it. The man seemed to recognize him and after a moment James remembered him. Stark. Howard Stark. Ah, shit.
James watched, horrified, as the him on the screen killed first Stark – Howard, oh shit – and then his wife. James wanted to throw up, to make it stop, to undo it, but all he could do was watch Stark – the young one, Howard’s son, Tony? – and the anguish on his face as his parents were murdered right in front of his eyes. Jesus Christ.
Stark make a move towards James, but Steve held him back.
“Did you know?” Stark – Tony – asked Steve, voice full of pain and James didn’t know what to do, what to think beyond the horror of it all. Steve gave some half-assed answer and James felt lost. Stark wasn’t happy and continued to press. “Don’t bullshit me, Roger. Did you know?”
There was a second of hesitation before Steve said the damning word: “Yes.”
What the fuck? was all James could think. Steve knew? He knew and he didn’t say anything? To either of them? Goddamn it, he remembered it now; Howard had been sort of a friend. An ally, at the very least, and James had killed him? Jesus fucking Christ.
Stark took a step back from Steve, looking utterly betrayed. Then he punched Steve hard enough to make him fly backwards and James couldn’t fault him for it.
Stark turned to him and James froze. He didn’t know what to do. There was nothing he could do or say to erase what he’d done. He couldn’t apologize. Well, he could, but what good would it possibly do? There was nothing, not a goddamned thing, that could make any of that any less horrible.
While they stared at each other in stalemate, James noticed Steve get up and come closer, as if ready to attack and that… no, that was the last thing they needed right now. So James dropped the gun he was holding, fell to his knees and put his hands behind his back. Not taking his eyes off Stark, he spoke as gently as he could. “I surrender.” And then, because it might mean nothing but it was true, he continued, “I’m sorry.”
“Bucky –” Steve said, starting forward.
“Stay away, Steve. This isn’t about you.” It came out more harshly than intended, but James just couldn’t deal with Steve right now. Jesus, this could have been avoided if Steve had fucking told them (Stark. Shit. Tony.)
Tony continued to stare at him like a little kid who’d lost his parents and didn’t know what to do – and, fuck, that was pretty much true, wasn’t it?
A dark figure detached itself from the shadows and came towards them. It was the black guy from before – James didn’t know his name. “Your surrender is accepted,” he told them, looking at James, who had remained in the same position on the ground.
Shaken out of his paralysis, Tony took a step back from James, and the glow of the weapon in his hand disappeared. “Right,” he said, turning around in a daze. He blinked a few times, seemingly unsure of what to do next. After taking a deep breath, he regained a bit of his composure. “And that guy is under arrest for the bombing of the UN building.” He pointed at Zemo inside the bunker, who didn’t seem quite so happy anymore. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this. “Are you going to come quietly?” He addressed James.
“Yes.”
“Tony, it’s not –” There was Steve again and James just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Shut up, Steve. Stand down. It’s over. The threat is taken care of, now we deal with… things.” He turned back to Tony and the other guy. “We will come quietly.”
It wasn’t going to be easy, James thought. A lot of things had happened that shouldn’t have happened, but James was tired of running away. And most of all, right now, Tony deserved better.