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English
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Published:
2024-01-20
Completed:
2025-07-26
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172,754
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80/80
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Through the looking glass

Summary:

Bucky dragged Steve's unconscious body from the Potomac. Memories, flashes were coming back to him. Maybe saving Rogers had been a mistake. Bucky needed help, both for his mental health and to take care of the problem that was Captain America.

Notes:

Hello again!
A couple of things to say first.
I'm posting two stories at the same time. Although I am writing both and I WILL finish them both, I'd like to know which one you like the best, the one you want to read first. So, please tell me.
Back to the Future or Through the looking glass.
Also this is me rewriting history with a dark twist because I'm not a nice person hahaha
Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

The waters of the Potomac were anything but pure, clouded by a greasy muck. Not that the Winter Soldier cared. He had seen far worse. As he emerged from the icy waters, dragging the unconscious form of Steve Rogers behind him, the cold hit him hard, making him shudder. On the distant horizon, tendrils of black smoke rose into the grey sky, billowing from the crash site. The three helicarriers had fallen on the population underneath. The air, heavy with an acrid scent of burning debris, reminded him that it wasn’t quite over yet. 

The Winter Soldier’s movements were precise, showing a lethal efficiency as he made his way to the shore. Water droplets stuck to his dark attire, making it heavier than it should have been. He finally let go of Rogers’ hand once he was sure that he was out of danger. 

He looked down at the unconscious from sprawled on the pebbles, perplexed. Memories that had been hidden for so long began to stir in his mind like the fragments of a story told by someone else. It was as if he was peeking into the life of a stranger, someone he used to know but had been long forgotten. The quiet, soothing sound of the water’s gradual lap was almost hypnotic, allowing his thoughts to wander back to all the things that had been wiped out during his time on the chair. 

His knowledge was limited, with critical pieces missing. He couldn’t really remember his own name or the year it was. There was only one thing going through his mind. He refused to return to Hydra, to the cold metal chair and the torture that, once more, would erase his mind. He didn’t exactly have a plan. Since Hydra operated all over the world in the shadows, it would make it difficult to hide from them. 

A few nations presented themselves as possible havens, untouched by the tentacles of the shadow Nazi agency. Those would be the safest places for him to hide. But considering who he was running away from, the word safe seemed far from his reality.

All of his instincts were on high alert. He intended to put as much distance between himself and the aftermath of his last mission. The air was thick with tension. The authorities were most likely all around the area now. An inevitable pursuit would follow. The Winter Soldier was the obvious culprit. His thoughts replayed the events of the past hours in an endless loop. Why had he chosen to save Captain America?

He walked away from Rogers. He needed to get out of there as soon as possible. Fortunately, he discovered a parking area nearby for anyone who wished to enjoy the Potomac River's banks. There was a motorbike there with a chain wrapped around the front wheel. The idea that stealing was wrong quickly passed through his head, but he didn't have much of a choice. The chain was quickly dismantled by the metal arm, a testament to the efficiency of his enhanced capabilities. It was simple enough to start the engine without a key. He took off, the tires spinning against the gravel road. He didn’t look back.

Bits and fragments of memories continued to resurface, like pieces of a puzzle assembling themselves into the story of another life. It was like watching a disjointed documentary film about James Buchanan Barnes. That was his name, his real one. Rogers made several appearances, not all of which were positive. Dread crept over him as the realisation sank in. Saving Captain America, while instinctual, might not have been the right thing to do.

He wasn’t entirely sure of what he should have done. His memories and mind had been whipped off so often that he didn’t know what was real anymore. In his world, only the parameters of a mission were of importance. He was instructed on where to go, who to kill, and where to return for extraction. His handlers were just allowing him enough latitude to ensure the mission’s success. His most valuable skill was his adaptability. 

In the early days, Hydra had good reason not to trust him. Bucky had tried to escape often in whatever manner he could. Thoughts of suicide lingered, tormenting him, feeling like the only solution for him, but the serum coursing through his veins made this ultimate route impossible. There was no way out, no escape. The chair wiped what was left of James Buchanan Barnes until what remained was an empty shell.  

Despite Hydra’s best efforts, bits of him were returning now, and they weren’t looking good. The amnesiac fog that had cloaked him was lifting, revealing images of violence and death. The flashes of the war, of the victims of the Winter Soldier were coming in no particular order. He had no control of what was happening to him once again.

Bucky came to a halt in the middle of the road. It was a rather quiet back lane that was deserted. Nobody would bother him, and he wanted some alone time to think. The truth was that Steve Rogers was not and had never been his responsibility. That relationship, if it could be called that, had already cost him enough. Bucly could hide indefinitely and live his life as best he could. 

He let out a sigh. He couldn't do that, of course. He should have known better. This was one of his flaws, he supposed. Bucky didn't have to battle every bully he saw like Steve, but when he realised people were in real danger, he had to act. And, to be honest, it was partly his fault to begin with. He shouldn’t have saved Steve Rogers.

“I can’t do this alone,” Bucky said to nobody in particular.

While overtaking him, a car slowed down, the driver looking at him curiously. So far, the road had been deserted, and now there was someone worrying about him. Of course, this could just be a coincidence. Someone was perhaps kind enough to be concerned about a lone motorbike rider in the middle of nowhere. Or maybe it was Hydra. Within that organisation, suspicion about everything and everyone ran wild. They were most likely aware of what had occurred in Washington and his failure.

They might still have the resources to bring him back in the fold. Rogers and his friends had uploaded all of Shield's data on the internet, but Hydra had infiltrated more than one organisation. They were everywhere. From the White House to the local police. 

Bucky hopped on his bike and rode to New York in record time. This was going to be a hell of a bargain, but who else could he turn to for assistance in those circumstances? 

Hydra always put that man at the top of their list of enemies. The ill-fated project Insight would have eliminated him, along with countless others. Hydra agents were not to engage the man if possible. He had the highest level of threat and whether Bucky liked it or not, it meant something even if it came for Hydra.

New York was as busy as it had always been. The man Bucky was after was there to supervise the construction of his new building. He was never alone. Bucky observed him and his entourage. Bucky would be able to dispatch the bodyguard. He had seen his Hydra files. But he was not to be underestimated. Obediah Stane had planned Tony Stark's assassination overseas for a reason. Stane made a mistake when he decided to form an alliance with that particular terrorist group. Many have tried to kidnap the genius over the years. All of those attempts had been foiled by Happy Hogan.

Suddenly, without warning, Stark grabbed a heavy suitcase from Hogan’s hands and tossed it to the floor. The Iron Man suit quickly wrapped around Stark's entire torso, and he quickly took off.

"I'll try to extract as many as I can! Contact the authorities. The military, the FBI, all of them!" Tony urgently told Hogan.

Without waiting for an answer, Stark was gone with a boom of sonic speed. It was clear what he was attempting to do. This selfless determination was the essence of a hero. Even though Stark had the option to put his own safety first, he decided to go and save others, even if it meant risking his own life. Bucky could have helped, but he wasn't a hero, and most Shield personnel would have shot him on sight. Instead, he would wait and gather information on what Stark intended to do.

Stark did everything he could to the point of exhaustion. Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov did little to assist repair the harm they had caused. It wasn’t surprising. The Black Widow operatives, including Natasha, had to learn the way not to have feelings for anyone, not even themselves. Their training was ruthless. They were saved from the chair, but not much else. Vague memories resurfaced of the days when he had trained Natasha. Back then, she was already only doing things that would only benefit her. A coping mechanism for sure.

By avoiding Hydra, the chair, and the cryo chamber, he was allowing his memories to return. Not everything was crystal clear of course. He had seventy years of trauma to think about.  It was not an easy task. The serum was allowing him to survive on micro naps here and there. He was grateful for it. Sleeping always brought out the worst from his mind. He'd frequently wake up startled, a scream on his lips that would completely derail his small cover operation. He needed to concentrate.

“Okay Boss. I’ll see you in Malibu then. Try and get some sleep.” Happy, standing not far from Bucky without knowing it,  was answering Stark. Who else could it be?

Bucly couldn't just get on a plane like everyone else. Hydra was usually in charge of transportation, and they had enough individuals in their pockets to get practically anyplace on Earth. Bucky didn't have a passport, and the metal arm would be difficult to hide. Time was of the essence, and he didn't waste time. The domestic flights didn’t have the same security measures, particularly in the loading bay. The serum coursing through his veins gave him certain benefits, allowing him to survive on less oxygen than the normal human.

The Malibu house was perched on the precipice of Point Dume, overlooking the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. The absence of visible security measures around the property felt weird, the idyllic location possibly explaining it. The large bay windows, while visually beautiful, constituted a security risk that was not his responsibility to fix. Tony Stark’s continued existence was important. At least, until the problem that was Steve Rogers was dealt with.

With time pressing down on him, Bucky found himself resorting to a course of action he wouldn't typically consider. He simply walked through the front door, opting for a direct approach over stealth. He would do his best to explain the issue and hope for the best. Once upon a time, he was quite the charmer. He could only hope that some of it remained.

“Welcome James Buchanan Barnes. What can I do for the Winter Soldier?”

Tony Stark was waiting for him there, his right armoured arm raised in the air, ready to shoot. Since they had made him the Winter Soldier, very few people had survived an encounter with him. Bucky had to give him that. The thought brought a wry smile to Bucky's face. If he was going to die, it only seemed right that it would be at the hands of intriguing weapons in the hands of an equally intriguing person.

The response was straightforward and honest. Perhaps not the finest way to begin a conversation, but Bucky sensed that a lie would only lead to complications down the line. History had demonstrated the dire consequences of lying to Stark, evident in the fate of Stane.

“I’m not Hydra,” Bucky declared

"Me neither," Tony responded. "You're going to have to be a little more convincing if you don't want me to shoot you to kingdom come," Tony snarked back at him, a wry smile on his face. 

"It's a long story," Bucky sighed.

“Go on. I can do this all day.”