shadowreader23

[shadowreader23]

How to accidently befriend the enemy and make them think you're someone else a guide by zuko (part 1)

Zuko had it all planned out. He would break in Pouhai stronghold release the Avatar from Zhao and capture him returning to the fire nation where his father would revoke his banishment and be happy. Obviously Prince Zuko crown prince of the fire nation could not be seen breaking into a stronghold so he chose to do so as his alter-ego the blue spirit. Over the last few months he had ventured out as the spirit a few times mostly for some freedom but occasionally he would help people such as the time he saved a woman who was mugged or spy on people usually Zhao's men. He traversed the stronghold undetected making his way towards where the Avatar was being held. As he entered the room his blood boiled sure that was the Avatar chained up but... In that moment Zuko truly realized just how small and young the Avatar was. Shaking his head he decided to ignore those intrusive thoughts for now.

"Who are you?" The Avatar demanded

Zuko gave no response and unsheathed his Dual Dao Swinging them causing the avatar to let out a cry of surprise as he cut through the chains

"You're rescuing me?" The Avatar asked in shock

Zuko nodded and gestured for the Avatar to follow

They were halfway through the stronghold when the airbender was spotted. It had to be the bright clothes Zuko thought as the Avatar was actually being reasonably quiet for a change.

This lead to the stronghold going on high alert

The avatar used airbending to move bamboo ladders to help himself and Zuko escape, but as they neared the wall they were shot down by the Yuyan archers, Luckily they were unharmed but they were surrounded. So Zuko resorted to a desperate move unsheathing his swords and placing them against the Avatars neck threateningly. The Avatar looked surprised, tense and worried yet Zuko could feel the ,,,,trust in his posture. why would the Avatar trust him? Zuko wondered as the officer in charged ordered his men to stand down and open the gate.

Zuko began to walk backwards briefly checking the area behind him while thinking of a plan after they reached the relative safety of the woods, he needed to restrain the Avatar but how? He had no rope or chains... The difficulty of imprisoning of an airbender a creative airbender who was also the Avatar was starting to make itself known in Zuko's mind. How would he even get the Avatar to the Wani? Pushing those thoughts aside for now Zuko focused on the here and now he needed to reach that forest everything else could be dealt with later.

Zuko took a careful step back and another, and another until he stepped on some uneven ground. Luckily the stumble did not cause any harm to the Avatar and saved Zukos life as at that precise moment an arrow ripped through the air where his head had been moments before.

That was way too close Zuko thought to himself realizing the predicament he was in he couldn't use the swords to block the arrows coming towards them without harming the Avatar. Zuko reacted quickly. He threw himself forward, Protecting the Avatars body with his own. What am I doing? He asked himself as the arrows continued to fly. He was almost lucky enough to avoid all the arrows. Almost. But Zuko had never had the best luck to begin with.

Fires of pain swept through his leg as he waited for a break in the hail of arrows then threw himself and the Avatar forwards landing on the forest floor in a heap.

Beneath him, the Airbender started squirming eager to get out from under Zuko each movement the Avatar made sent fresh waves of fiery pain through Zuko's leg. Zuko returned the swords back to their sheath, noticing that his right leg could not move very well, and was extremely painful. Zuko carefully checked to make sure no more arrows were coming in their direction. By some miracle they weren't, but even from here, he could hear the yelling of the commanders and the sound of soldiers checking the perimeter as well as search teams rushing out. If they stayed here for too long they were likely to be found.

pulling himself painfully to his feet, Zuko gestured urgently towards the soldiers, then at the forest. He started moving hoping that the Avatar had enough common sense to follow him to a safer area. Before he remembered the Avatar had practically no common sense. He took several steps wondering why was walking so difficult all of a sudden?

"Mr!" he heard the Avatar Call "your hurt! by the Spirits… Hang on!"

The Avatar gave him a strange look and turned back. Zuko considered hitting the boy on the head to get him to be quiet, but stopped when he saw the Avatar's hands move. A violent gust of wind came from nowhere allowing them to escape safely into the depths of the lush green forest.

The Avatar walked beside Zuko suddenly way too close, he smiled widely and pushed himself underneath Zuko's right arm stabilizing him and acting as a human crutch Then they were moving, far faster than should be possible with Zuko's injury he realized the Avtar was manipulating the air allowing them to travel faster. Zuko didn't know the Avatar could do that.

A while later he was lowered gently onto a rock in the woods. "I think we're safe here," the Avatar spoke gently and warmly as he paced around nervously, looking at Zuko's injury "I'm not good at this. Katara might know how to heal this unfortunately Katara is sick right now, and I am pretty sure we need to get this arrow out now to avoid infection."

Arrow? What was the Avatar talking about? oh! That's when Zuko realized he did in fact get hit by one of the arrows. Now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off and he was not moving, he understood that he was in big trouble. He couldn't tell how bad the injury was but there was a sharp throbbing, burning, pain with significant blood loss the arrow was most likely poisoned. He needed to get it out and return to his ship for the antidote. He tried to pull it out but couldn't. "Stop that, take it easy," a calm voice sang .A second later he was in absolute agony.

He propped himself up electing to ignore the pain for now and preformed his checks his swords were still with him which was good finding replacements was a pain and his mask was still on which as also a bonus he couldn't have the Avatar finding out he was Prince Zuko of the fire nation after all. He wasn't sure wat the airbender would do if he knew his identity. Carefully, he broke off the feathered end of the arrow gritting his teeth as he did so but staying silent. This next part would be hell and he may require some help. Zuko couldn't speak without giving himself away.

"Are you okay? Please don't die Mr.! you're really nice!" The Avatar worried

They were in a small valley of some kind near a pond. Not to far from the Wani. It was lucky Zuko was good at improvising. He had to be with the situations he kept finding himself in.

It hurt a lot pulling out the arrow but at least it was over quickly. Zuko sat there and looked at the arrow in his hand before throwing it into the woods and cleaning the wound before covering it with some cloth.

"Are you feeling any better? Sorry I couldn't help you with your injury I'm not vey good with helping the injured but Katara she is only she's sick so is Sokka I need to capture some frogs for them to help them recover so I can't leave them for too long, but I don't want to leave you. Can you walk?" The Avatar asked concerned

The concern surprised Zuko he could not understand why the Avatar cares if he was ok. After all the Avatar had just met him, He didn't even know his name.

He sighed as he realized he wouldn't be able to capture the Avatar and return to the Wani in his current state.

"Was that a yes or a no?" The Avatar asked tilting his head curiously "I don't mean to be rude but can you talk? You didn't make any noise when you were hurt! Is that why you're wearing that mask? Something happened and you don't want people to know? The Avatar asked

Zuko shook his head in the negative slightly amused by the Avatar's cluelessness. Something bothered him once again It was his duty to capture the Avatar and regain his honour so he could return home to the fire nation. Yet. Where was the honor was there in betrayal?

Wait where had that though come from? Zuko questioned himself again.

Holding up a hand to get the Avatars attention. A voice trickled into his mind.

"Sign" It said

As if on autopilot Zuko's hands rose and he began to sign

"I'll be alright the injury is not serious no tell me. What illness do your friends have?" he asked

The Avatar explained how the herbalist said they needed frozen frogs to get better and looked up with hope in his eyes. He was a child with nothing but the advice of a quite possibly insane healer to help his friends.

"I don't know about frogs" he signed seeing the sad look on the Avatars face he continued. "I know of a medicine that may help but I need time to get it. Meet me here tomorrow night?" Zuko asked

Aangs face split into the biggest grin Zuko has ever seen. Wait when had he started to think of him as Aang and not the Avatar?

"Thank you!" he cried, then threw his arms around Zuko, who was shocked into stiff at the hug.

The Avatar. Hugged him. Zuko had no idea how to respond

Thank you I mean it I really, really owe you Mr. Are you sure you'll be okay?" Aang asked kindly

Zuko raised his hands in mock annoyance at doubt, shaking them before throwing his hands to the sky. T

Aang laughed before asking "What is your name? I'm Aang. I'm an airbender"

Zuko gestured to the mask.

"Mr Mask?" The Avatar asked

Zuko shook his head that name really was awful

"Vigilantie?" The Avatar tried again

Zuko pointed to the colors on his mask

"Blue?" Anng asked

Seriously why did Zuko keep thinking of him as Aang? He wondered indicating their was a second word

"Blue Spirit?" he asked

Zuko nodded pleased.

"Is that your real name?" The Avatar asked

Zuko couldn't help it he trembled with silent laughter. it definitely wasn't what his real name but he imagine it for a moment if his name truly was was blue spirit Azula would have a hard time making an annoying nickname from that. Eve though she would probably still manage too. He still had nightmare about the dreaded nickname 'ZUZU"

"L-E-E" He signed one letter at a time. It was the first earth kingdom name he thought of and was very common.

"Lee?" The Avatar asked and Zuko nodded

"Thank you friend Lee for everything I will se you later!" Aang exclaimed darting away on his glider back to where Zuko assumed the frozen frogs were.

Zuko pulled himself to his feet and started limping downstream trying to ignore the pain only pausing only to drink water. A plan started to come together in his mind. All the while he'd been following and hunting the Avatar. Aang the voice in his head interjected but Zuko decided to ignore it for now. The most challenging part had been trying to figure out where to search. If he stayed in the Avatars good graces as the blue spirit he could find out where they were going. he hadn't meant to befriend the Avatar but he was going to make the most of the situation. Bu first he needed to get back to the Wani and treat the poison in his wound.

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Chapters 1-8 of this fic posted on my whattpad!

[shadowreader23]

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Shadow and Metal (my sonic fic part 1 posted)

Bat pranks (2 parts posted)

Final fantasy replay (editing + uploading)

Time travel Barnes? (Editing+uploading)

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Shadow and Metal part 1:

Suprise im alive! Ive not watched much Sonic just the 1st move and season 1 of Sonic prime so dont judge me characters will be OOC. -------- Shadow stood at the top of green hill looking down. Amy tails knuckles and Sonic were hanging out like they usually did having a good time sharing a picnic. Eggman hadnt been seen for a while and while the others were taking it easy the doctors abscence had put Shadow ob edge.

"You dont have to be broody all the time you know" Shadow knew that voice. Rouge smirked as she landed next to him. "How have you been shadow?"

She semmed to be the only one who remembered he exsisted these days... and even then she didnt show up as often as she used to.

"What do you want?" He asked not relaxing even the slightest who knew when the next attack would happen.

"I was on my way to the Picnic when i saw your Broody Quills being all miserable. Why dont you join us we can talk smack about eggman with the others" She smiled

"Ill pass" He folded his arms. Didnt she know he wasnt welcome there. The others had made it clear they hated him and they had good reason to.

"Shadow..... im not the best at mushy stuff but you know i care about you right" Rouge insisted

"Your the only one who does.." Rings! Hed said that out loud.

"Shad" She began only to be cut off by the loud sound of a flying robot.

Shadow stepped back several paces and got a running start launching himself at the robot. The robot landed with several others in front of sonic and the others and creating a smokescreen to hide the other robots arrival the sudden movment causing shadow to fall off.

He quickly got back to his feet and ripped the robot pilot out of the suit instending to use it as a weapon against the others.

....the smoke cleared.....

"Shadow.... i shouldve known..." Sonic was glaring at him. Ok taking a moment he could process how this looked but before he could do anything something struck him in the back of the head.

He awoke in Eggmans lab suprisingly not in a cage.

"Good your awake. I will inform sir" That had to be a robot voice.

His head was achy and the room was spinning slightly. Great he had a concussion he tried to stand but his legs felt wobbly so he decided to stay sat down instead.

A blue blob walked into the room

"Sonic?"

"No i am metal sonic i will forgive your mistake as you are concussed. The doctor wishes to see you" Metal sonic gently picked shadow up and carried him over to eggmans workstation.

"I can walk on my own! He inisted trying to escape metals grasp but failing. He wasnt knuckles after all.

"I heard what they said to you. I saw what they did. Real friends wouldnt treat you like that" Metal whispered as he put Shadow down.

Eggman turned in his chair he had some kind of cat robot on his lap.

Cliche much? Shadow thought to himself.

"Ive been watching you for a while now shadow. Your underestimated. Underappreciated. Buiiled. Neglected. Left all alone. Forgotten. I could change that for you. I can make them see you and you will never be alone again. Think about it you can deal with the faker once and for all as well as have some fun causing chaos along the way. What do you say kiddo its my offer or i turn you into a robot the choice is yours...... -------- Earlier:

"Dr eggman one of the egg-bots has just informed me shadow has woken" Metal sonic was alert as always.

"Good bring him to me but be gentle Sonic. Flesh is more fraglie then you think he will eithier join us or become your metal Brother"

"If I may sir there is a 3rd use for him" Metal sonic began

"Go on....."

"He would make a good distraction think about it..." metal sonic whispered the rest of his pan to dr eggman whos grin only widended

"Truly a genious plan only a creation of mine could come up with and highly entertaining for me as well very well you may present him with Option C" --------

Join eggman? NEVER! but he also didnt want to be roboticised eithier. But did that mean metal sonic was also normal once? So many questions. They were making his head ache even more to make matters worse Dr eggmans stupid face was right near his clearly waiting for a response.

"I hope you lose all your rings" that was a lame response Rouge would be dissapointed in him.

"How dissapointing..." eggmans evil grin only grew as he grabbed his tools but metal sonic stood in between them.

"The one designated Shadow could prove more useful to us as flesh dr allow me to take it from here"

"Very well Metal sonic we will turn him into a robot once you are done"

What in the Shatterverse was going on here? Had sonic broke the shards again? Had the chaos sent him to another world... speaking of where were his Chaos emeralds?

Metal Sonic dragged him to what must be the Robots room. The door automatically locked behind them. There were no windows and the floor wall and ceiling were all metal various computers were scattered around the room the only peice of colour being the single blue chair next to the bookshelf which metal Sonic forcibly sat shadow in. He attached restrainsts to his wrists and ankles so he wouldnt run off.

"What are you planning to do!" Shadow wasnt afraid of the robot.

"Ruin Sonics life of course. And you're going to help me..."

----

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Time Travel Barnes? (Part 11)

Many trigger warrnings for this chapter basically trigger warning for everything bucky went through plus blackouts+ Nightmares+ losing time.

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James snapped awake, shooting up from the bed until he was up straight, suddenly standing and surveying the room like every other night before found his damn apartment. He searched, looking around frantically and subtly shifting from the edge of the bed until he was up against the wall, back facing it so he had his six covered.

He was in a broken room, all busted up and burnt in places. It was a mess with three makeshift beds spread around, up against walls. The two were empty.

He frowned and swallowed thickly, taking in air calmly and controllingly. He wasn’t sure of… anything right now. He didn’t remember much, but there were memories. He remembered being on the road leaving the town, he remembered having to use the guns he stole. He remembered being by Bucky’s side and shooting, ducking and changing the magazine of his weapon. James also remembered swapping patrol recently. Last night? He was swapped from Bucky to Berger for an earlier patrol and Dugan and Bucky took a shift after them.

James looked for a window, seeing that it was still dark out when his eyes landed on it. Were they on patrol?

It felt like his mind cut out a huge chunk of time and he just randomly appeared a little further into the future, maybe a few days to a few weeks. He wasn’t too sure. He had a few memories of the things he’d done in that time, but it felt like he hadn’t done any of it. He was just forced a little further forward in time. Was it the stone? Was it pushing him towards something? Wanting him to see something?

He snapped his eyes towards the door open door when he heard the footsteps and laughing, though it sounded like they were strained and trying to be as quiet as possible, obviously failing. “Canon?” James calmed at seeing Bucky step around the door, his smile dropping and turning to curios concern. Dugan wasn’t with him now, probably went to take a piss or something, but he was alone and looking a little worried after seeing him so apprehensive with his back against the wall.

“Hey, you okay?” he stepped further into the room and slipped off the strap of his gun, tossing it to his bed after automatically flicking the safety on. He took of the few weapons he had and they were thrown to his bed too, right next to James’. They slept close, next to each other. He assumed that Dugan had the bed on the other end of the almost square shaped room.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…” he shook his head lightly and ran his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t bunned it or tied it up, and flicking his gaze to his left wrist covered by the sleeve, seeing the dark band wrapped around it, keeping the fabric closed around the metal. Bucky must’ve mistaken the glance, because he was stepping up close to him, eyeing him with a worried knitted brow.

“Another nightmare?” James eyed him, but didn’t move, didn’t nod or shake his head. He knew that he was never this close to anyone when he was Bucky, and during this time. Being attached to someone, becoming friends, it was inevitable, but you tried. Because they’d either end up dead or you did and it’d be a loss, not just of a comrade, but a friend. Bucky was closer, he felt oddly like family right now. He was making sure he was okay, worrying about him like a brother would.

“Sort of,” he finally replied with a subtle shrug. He’d said ‘another nightmare’. So, Bucky had seen him go through one? Maybe found him after one or right before he sunk into one of his worst? Or maybe he’d only had minor ones and he hadn’t lashed out as much. If he’d seen him through one of his worst, then there’d be evidence. Bucky would be hurt, or maybe have bruises or breaks. He wouldn’t have been unharmed, and judging from his personality, he wouldn’t have just left him to go through it on his own. He would’ve tried to wake him, which wasn’t the best course of action. He’d definitely be hurt.

“Did I hurt you?” he heard himself mumbling quietly, almost brokenly. His voice was a deep whisper.

“What? You just saw me come through the door from patro-,”

“No, I mean before,” he watched him with strong focus, looking for any twitch or tell that would give him away. “My other nightmares,” and there it was. He saw the flash of something, a split-second and it was gone. Realization? Reluctance? “Have I hurt you before?” it flashed across his face again, and he caught it this time. Security. He knew the expression, what was coming next. He’d avoid answering directly. Maybe try to protect him and/or comfort him through it, and maybe defend James, not blaming him for any of it. And by the sigh that left the man...

“Listen, Jamie. None of it was you-,” … James was right. “-It was your nightmares and you just took action on instinct. Obviously what happened to you was really bad and it left scars, nightmares,” he gave a shrug that said ‘obviously’. “I’m not gonna blame you for acting out on impulse. You’re a trained soldier. I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a few more from this war when or if you get your ass back to your time,” he wouldn’t. He never did. Bucky was a trigger happy man and he somewhat enjoyed taking out the opposing team because he was a competitive men when it mattered. He didn’t take joy in it, obviously, but he felt better for doing his job and taking them out. He could sleep at night because the ones he’d take out weren’t innocent.

James as the Winter Soldier, took out innocents, upon innocents, upon innocents. He had faces throwing themselves at him, screaming, crying, begging to live or that they ‘didn’t see anything’ when his mission involved ‘no witnesses’. Every time his eyes closed, he’d see a different face, a different face crying and trying to get away from what was inevitable.

“I don’t give a damn about the nightmares,” he responded flatly, deeply and he looked Bucky dead in the eye, pinning him there with just an almost broken look. “They’re in my head. You’re not,” he stared unnervingly at him. “You’re real and you’re someone I don’t want to hurt, while awake or asleep,” he sighed calmly and lowly, still watching him intently and noting that Bucky had bravely kept eye contact with him. “Don’t make me ask again…” James hated that his voice actually cracked. Only the once, but it showed that a fraction of control of his voice slipped.

And it seemed to hit Bucky. His jaw tightened and his breathing hitched slightly, like it was a mild surprise. He saw James as a strong man, a man that couldn’t bear to hurt someone that close to him. He couldn’t bare it, not if he actually hurt him, broke him. If James ever did, and because of a fucking nightmare, he’d never forgive himself.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jamie,” his voice was a whisper and James didn’t move or even flinch when the hand reached up without caution and was placed on the side of his neck, Bucky’s thumb gently running the few inches of his jaw. “You scraped me a few times, but I learnt my lesson after the first couple of nightmares,” so he did hurt him. He harmed him ‘scraped’ him. Obviously he did more than just scrape the man. He was downplaying the damage.

“Can I ask you about it?” James easily snapped from his thoughts and to attention without Bucky seeing that he’d been distracted with his own mind. He eyed him, a questioning frown creasing his brow and the other man finally managed to break their eye-lock to gesture towards the arm. He stiffened, his jaw locking and tensing like Bucky’s had before and he locked up, hesitant and reluctant. His breathing picked up, but… he nodded slowly and stiffly anyway.

He deserved at least something, some idea or some thought or image of what it was or how it was there. He didn’t want to lie, not anymore. He’d done enough of that, but the timeline was still at risk… He… didn’t exactly know what to say.

“How’ds it work?” he was expecting something different, a simple question, but… okay.

“Neural sensors attached at the nerves of what’s left of my arm inside of the metal. My brain controls it like my brain controls my right arm,”

“I’ll pretend that I understood all that,” he smirked at him, and James just scoffed, feeling his tension gradually leaving at how casual Bucky was being. He seemed so calm and laid-back at this point that it was putting him at ease.

“Think of how your arm works and imagine it being metal,” he simplified, seeing the understanding nod. He seemed to get it now, which he was thankful for, but… “The only thing different from what you’re imagining and what my arm has, is that mine’s got a coolant system for different outward temperatures. An In-cleaner, that regularly cleans the inside of the arm via small, but strong puffs of air. It’s enhancedly strong and can stop a moving truck and it lights up on the inside when I access that strength,” he knew the last one was true and he wasn’t lying because he saw the faint sliver of light through one of the seams when his arm had been worked on. They took it apart to fix something and jarred a bad wire that involuntarily accessed that strength and it lit up.

“The fuck’s a coolant system?” he looked like he was hit in the face by a pan or something. He looked genuinely confused.

“I can cool the arm down or heat it up, depending on my own body temp, or the temp around me. If I’m in a cold area, I can keep the arm from freezing or stiffening up by heating up the metal,”

“So, you can turn your arm into a mobile heater or a block of ice?” Bucky deadpanned with a crooked smirk, a trademark smile. He could tell that he’d been distracted, the soldier having made him think of different things, the thing being his arm, but he hadn’t thought of it badly, which was weird. Bucky asked the simple mechanic of it, how it worked and what something inside of it was. He was asking about the object itself instead of how it was there, why, how’d they fix it to him, or did it hurt.

“Not exactly a block of ice, but I can make it cold without it freezing up,” he would describe this as refreshing, but it was nicer to think of it this way than to have to think of it as the thing that ruined him, that made him feel like a monster, apart from his own mind.

“For hot places,” James nodded in affirmation. And that seemed to end it there. Bucky patted him where his hand had been and pulled back with a tired, but still crooked smirk. James huffed a breathy scoff through his nose and moved to sit back down on the bed, still mildly reluctant to sleep. He was still confused and unsure of how far he went into the future, clearly not far because Bucky looked almost exactly the same, maybe a bit stubblier.

“How long’s it been since we left that town,” he muttered to himself, knowing that Bucky heard him and hoping that he’d answer. It was the easiest way to ask without the man finding out or knowing that he’d skipped times.

“About… couple of weeks… maybe six?” a month and a half? He skipped that far? He was thinking maybe a week or two, not six. That thought just meant that they were getting closer to being kidnapped, experimented on and that damn train was getting dangerous real again.

James swallowed thickly and reluctantly shifted to lie flat over the bed, one knee bent, the other straight. His flesh arm lifted and he draped it over his eye, not wanting to look at anything while his metal one, now uncovered by the glove, which was odd, was resting over his abdomen.

That length of time was bringing them closer to James’ worst nightmare and it terrified him that he’d have to re-board that damn thing. He was sure that Bucky would board it, because Steve would. It was their mission and they came as a pair. One doesn’t go without the other, and if one goes, so does the other.

He wouldn’t leave them behind.

He’d save them.

Or he’d die trying.

Bucky...

Steve...

“... til the end of the line,” he muttered tiredly, his voice deep, cracking with exhaustion, too tired to see the wide eyes snap towards him and stare.

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[shadowreader23]

Time Travel Barnes? (Part 10)

(Long chapter)

Buckys’ reaction was expected, he’d waited for that disbelieving ‘fuck off’ that was thrown his way. It didn’t make it hurt less though. The sting of his younger self not believing a word he’d said. There were pros and cons to the situation now. Cons’ being that Bucky probably wouldn’t be as open and nice as he had been before James had told him, he’d be guarded and probably wouldn’t make as many jokes as before. The pros’ were that there was a strong possibility that there’d be no questions or prying into his life or talk about the future. There’s be no complicated questions on when or how he ended up there and why he was just a damaged man. There’d be no parental concern that his son had been in HYDRA hands.

They could just go back to subtle talk and banter and be as distant as before. It’d also help James decided on whether to save him or not. He’d still been stuck with the choice and hadn’t gotten the time to continue his chat with Alaric.

The man was currently helping him. He’d bagged an extra set of clothes, mostly long sleeves and a couple of cargo pants. He’d put them in his duffle that had been previously emptied so James could gear up again. He was back to wearing his Winter Soldier gear, but he’d tore the right sleeve off so he could wear a mossy green, long sleeve under it. He had his weapons at the ready, knives hidden, two guns, a pistol and MP-40. The MB grenades were safely tucked away as well. He was ready to leave, but was told to hang back just for a few seconds, Hannah working her way back out of the kitchen with a foiled up bag. A packed lunch? He’d raised a brow at her as she tucked it on top of the folded clothes and she’d zipped it up and turned to him with a wavering smile.

“Be safe,” he nodded with an empty expression, trying not to show that he was actually a tad disappointed with leaving. He wasn’t even sure why he was even going with them, apart from choosing between saving or letting Bucky fall. He was unsure.

“I will,” he replied, eyeing her carefully as she seemed uncertain for a moment and then shifted forward to give him a fast hug. He’d shakily returned it and then turned to Alaric as she walked away to the kitchen. The man crookedly smiled and strongly patted his back and brought him into another hug. They hadn’t known each other long, and he wasn’t sure why he was getting this much affection, but he was thankful that he was getting said affection instead of scared glances and avoidance. This could’ve gone a lot worse. What if they’d been scared and sent him away the very first night?

If you really are from when you think you are, be very careful of your actions. I find that life has many different affects, time is no different. If it is not already set in stone, then there’s a butterfly effect. Be careful, James,” he nodded thoughtfully at his words, a frown gradually making its way across his features.

“Thank you,” he spoke softly, his expression growing softer again. “For everything,” he eyed them both, catching the soft, familial feeling coming off of them as he reached for his bag and swung it over his shoulders. He gave them a smile and turned away, heading over to the door with the two gradually following him.

He opened the door and stepped out, shock instantly stunning his face and body. About half of the town was there, all spread around the area of the house where he was stepping out of. They were staring, smiling, kids crying, men holding their wives and the mothers and wives were holding their family tight. A few were waving as he stepped further out, a few kids trying to pull from their parents and wanting to get closer to him.

“Thank you,” “You saved us,” “Stay safe,” “Be careful,” “We love you,” “Come back alive,” and many more kind words were sent his way from the families. They were cheering him on and giving thanks and all he could really do was stare and try not to beam a smile from so much love he seemed to be receiving. The townsfolk were incredible and he should be thanking them for the hospitality and affection and smiles he was given. He felt so welcomed, something he hadn’t felt in so long.

He couldn’t say anything, he only let a soft smile slip his lips and directed it at them, the smile actually reaching his eyes. A genuine feeling that was all but rare to him. For the first time in so long, he felt happy.

James hadn’t said a word as he reluctantly headed away from the house, giving Alaric and Hannah a second glance over his shoulder and waving, turning on everyone else as he waved again, and then turned away, not wanting to feel the sadness creeping up on him as he turned the corner and made his way up the street, noting the figure leaning against the house a block away.

Bucky was waiting on him, hiding at the corner away from the crowds of people. The soldier turned his head at James’ intentionally  audible bootsteps and gave him a crooked, groggy grin, a grin that hadn’t reached his eyes, probably from what happened the night before. He wouldn’t blame him. It had been James that had brought it on and told him. They’d just be distant, he hoped. He enjoyed the banter and enjoyed talking with him and sharing a joke, so hopefully, he hadn’t screwed anything up between them.

“So, what am I to you? Pop’ or Grandpappy?” he was flat-humouring, using dry-humour to make some conversation between them. James just eyed him, looking him up and down before turning away to continue walking. From the sounds of the footfalls, the slight skip scuffing the dirt told him that Bucky moved to catch up as he walked passed.

“I’ll answer that when you believe me,” he replied flatly as they headed up the street together, almost shoulder to shoulder, and Bucky actually shoulder bumped him, now using his trademark lazy smirk on him.

“C’mon,” he drew out the word. “You have to admit that it sounds stupidly unbelievable,” James stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Bucky as he stopped right next to him with a not-so-serious expression on his face. He looked like he was having a hard time believing, but was still making jokes about it. Probably to tease him.

“I know it sounds stupid, but I’m not lying,” James stared at him flatly, watching as the smirk started to thin out and disappear.

“Fine, whatever. Theoretically, if I believed all this. How’d you get here and why? You here to tell us something? Do we win the war?” the war was far bigger than just Bucky, so telling him that they did wouldn’t actually have any impact on anything. So, he could tell him, but he’d have to make sure that he told no one else. But he couldn’t tell him everything, like details of Zola.

“You win,” he shrugged, watching a very victorious smile grace his lips and he made a gesture, fistpump? “And I already told you how I got here. That glowing stone. Zemo hit me with it and I ended up face-first in dirt a few miles from here,” he muttered thoughtfully, thinking back on what happened. He’d remembered the fight with Ironman after he saw what had happened with his parents and then he was glowing and was eating wet mud.

“So, you’re here by accident? One hell ofa coincidence ending up near the town we were called to,” Bucky pocketed his free hand, the other holding his gun at his side. He seemed serious now, both looking at him with thought and consideration. Maybe he was actually thinking about what he was saying. “Hey, maybe it just sent you to wherever you wanted to be,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders like James had done.

“Maybe. Maybe if I get back I can talk to Stark and Stev-ie,” shit, he’d been about to say Steve.

“Whoa, Stevie?” crap. “I got a friend named Steve,”

“Yeah, I know. Steve Rogers,” he tried to keep the uncertainty out of his voice as he agreed. He had to get himself out of this one. Maybe he could somehow work this out so Steve was related to Captain America in this time. Well, he’d still be the scrawny punk right now, so… “Stevie Rogers, he’s the same generation as me,” he noted how Bucky’s eyes widened for a few seconds, staring at him like he was excited and saw something he really wanted. A kid in a candy store with a 2 hundred dollar bill.

It was now or later, though he’d probably believe him more as of right now. “You’re my dad,”

“No fuckin’ wa-, you’re thirty-two! I’m twenty-nine! I’d had to have been-,” the Sergeant stopped to think, counting down in his head and suddenly using his hands. He actually seemed stuck while trying to math it all out in his head.

“Sixty-seven?” he supplied, knowing his math was right. James would’ve been born in 1984, making Bucky sixty-seven.

“Yeah! I’m an old-ass man when I’d have you! Why? Why’d it take me that long?” Bucky asked, suddenly concerned. And it actually threw James for a second. He was worried about having a son at such an old age. And it wasn't even an actual thing. It was all a lie.

“I can’t tell you that,” he replied flatly again, shrugging his shoulders before starting to walk again. He could see Bucky noticing his movement and he knew that he was following as they continued down the street. “I’d be screwing with the timeline. I already am by being here,” he really didn't know if he was. He remembered Alaric saying that in some cases things were set in stone and some things weren't.  So he wasn't too sure if he was actually screwing with things. We're the recent memories a sign that he was? If he did get back, he'd have to talk with Stark, regardless of if he turned him away for what he'd done to his parents…

There was a chance of talking with Howard from this time, but time travel was only a fantasy. A wild imagination and desire that hadn’t been done. He could ask theoretical questions maybe.

“Seriously! Wait! That means that Steve had his own kid around the same tim-, no, how old is Stevie?” Bucky seemed to be really asking at this point. He wasn’t just curious or asking to humour James. He was genuinely curious and wanted to know. It reached his eyes.

”I can’t tell you,” he repeated with a gradually raising brow. It really did seem like he was starting to believe him, regardless of his ‘theoretically’ comment before. He wasn’t completely sure, but he was leaning more towards Bucky actually believing him now.

“What ‘can’ you tell me?” he waved his arms, as if gradually getting exasperated by everything that James wasn't telling him. The soldier bit the inside of his lips and turned the next corner, catching sight of the group up ahead. The troops and trucks. He swiftly pulled his mask up over his face and took a breath. He was really going with them. He was temporarily going to be a soldier of WWII again.

“Not a lot,” he replied with a light shake of his head. He gave Bucky a side glance as they got closer and the thought of being back in the fight, being back in 1943 as a soldier. Nostalgia grew, warming him. He didn't feel like the Winter Soldier, or the man after being the Winter Soldier.  He wasn’t too sure who he was in this now, but this, THIS felt normal to him. He felt at ease and calm and he knew how to do what he was about to do. This was in his capability. He could do this and not be judged.

The only judgement he'd probably get would be on his skills with weaponry.

“I shouldn't be telling you anything,” he deadpanned with a knitted brow. James shouldn't have even met his younger self, let alone speak and talk about the time he came from. 2016 was way too far into advanced technology and biology. Hell, Howard would die from shock of how far the world had gotten. He may even have a heart attack just from looking over his arm. The neural technology and brain and cooling system was perfectly implanted. It was exactly like his right, but made of metal.

“C’mon. When would anyone get another chance like this?” Bucky smirked crookedly at him. Clearly he wasn’t taking the matter seriously, even though he seemed to start believing him about the whole time travel thing and the lie that he was his son.

“Doesn't change that if i tell you something too important I could change anything,” he shrugged.

“Still, it's pretty great that I met you,” he seemed to muse to himself, even if he directed the statement at James. “My son… Wow… I guess ‘theoretical’ turned ‘real’ a few seconds ago,” Bucky admitted with a shaky chuckle, his hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.

He’d admit to himself that he felt guilt for lying to him about the relation between them. He seemed happy and enthusiastic about it and James was lying so easily. Hopefully he could keep it up until he managed to find a way back. He'd stick to pretending to be his son until then.

“So you believe me now?” he asked quietly as they reached the rest of the group.

“I guess I'll have to if you're sticking around,” he chuckled and patted his shoulder fondly. James let a light smile slip his lips under the mask, knowing that it wouldn't be seen. He liked this, being treated like a friend, a comrade. It felt good, better than the caution that was aimed at him by Steve and the rest of the Avengers. He'd seen that Steve tried to hide that emotion from him, but James had seen right through him.

“I'll warn you now. If you start calling me sonny, lad, boy or any variation of those names, I won't hesitate to drop you,” he warned with a smirk, obviously not being completely serious.

“I was actually thinking of calling you Canon, but I might start calling you Son now,” he cackled. James paused and eyed him, raising a brow to show that he needed some form of elaboration. Canon. It was just Buchanan without the ‘Bu’. So why that name? He didn't know that they had the same name and obviously knew that he didn't even have one, to Bucky’s knowledge anyway.

“Why Canon?” he asked simply, actually staring at him.

“Jamie Buchanan Barnes. Has a ring to it, and none of the nicknames I was thinking of fit, so I thought we could share. My nickname comes from the first half of Buchanan, so you can have the last. Canon,” James just scoffed at him, watching as he seemed to justify himself. And he even seemed happy with himself for coming up with the name. He'd admit that it… sort of sounded good to him. Canon. It was better than Lucky.

[shadowreader23]

Time travel barnes (Part 9)

It was dark out, night having fallen a while ago and James was out in the rain again, like when he first appeared there in 1943. It was pissing down and he was drenched again, only having the trees just outside of the town as shelter. He didn’t want to go back, not yet, not while he was still inwardly flustered and panicking about all of this.

He was actually scared, his heart was hammering, his thoughts were reeling and he couldn’t stop thinking about the train. James had technically accepted an offer to go with them, to fight with them, and just over a handful of months from now, he’d be watching his younger self zip-wire down onto the very train that he fell from. He didn’t want to see that. He didn’t want it to happen. He couldn’t let it happen, but… What was he supposed to do? All the thinking was starting to stress him out and he couldn’t just watch as he falls from it again. He couldn’t watch Steve try to save him again only to watch him fall.

James was starting to hope that he somehow managed to get back to 2016 soon. He hoped that maybe Steve found a way to bring him back before he was forced to choose between saving Bucky and letting him fall.

He sucked in a breath and panted lightly, trying to calm himself down. He was more relaxed than before, but he just constantly questioned himself. Should he, or shouldn’t he. It was putting him on edge and his nerves were shaking because he didn’t want to have to choose. He didn’t know what the outcome would be, if he died or not, or if he ever saw Steve again, if he ever saw the future and SHIELD and HYDRA. He was just hurting himself at this point. So much thinking, so much doubt and self-loathing.

James growled and spun around, sending his clenched tight metal fist into the thick tree with a spark of anger lingering. His entire hand was in the tree with a chunk of it flying off a few feet from him. The trunk was severely dented and splinted now, dark wood now surrounding a light brown hole.

“Flash,” he knitted his brow at the soft call, his mind automatically returning to his training before joining the War. He let a sigh slip his lips and he turned to the quiet but identical voice.

“Lightning,” he answered, pulling his fist from the gaping hole he’d made. James heard the bushes and shrubbery rustling, telling him that they were coming out of hiding and he turned to see both Bucky and Dugan standing there. He’d rather not accuse them of stalking, but that was exactly what they’d done. They’d been following him, keeping a safe distance while they’d put other men on patrol.

He didn’t actually care too much about that. He was more concerned with his thoughts. James was inwardly conflicted about all of it and he didn’t know what to do, though he was tempted to talk with Alaric again. His wiseness and response was something he actually took a mild comfort in hearing. He’d helped a little and now he had a better idea of everything. But it still didn’t give him an answer.

“Why’re you lurking in the woods when you have a perfectly good bed back in town,” Dugan questioned him stiffly, probably having actually seen him make the hole. No normal guy with normal strength could dent it like that.

“Why’re you following me around when you should be on patrol,” he countered, turning directly towards them. Bucky actually seemed at odds, like he didn’t want a part of this. So maybe the stalking had been Dugans’ doing, his idea. “Slacking on your duties, don’t you think?” he crossed his arms over his chest, taking a little victory in seeing the pissed twitchy mannerism in the mans’ face. “Why’re you stalking me,” was his next demanded question. He eyed them, seeing the clenching in Bucky's’ jaw when he’d asked. He clearly felt off about being there. Be it shame, embarrassment of being caught or just plain hate that he was put up to being there, he didn’t care.

“When I get suspicious, I just can’t shake it,”

“Enough, take a walk,” Bucky suddenly spoke up, completely tense and guarded with a frustrated knit in his browline. He was irritated, pissed even. “That’s an order,” he added when Dugan didn’t move. There was a slight jerk in his posture and he reluctantly left, but not before sending a glare James’ way and then stalking off into the woods. He was mildly surprised at how fast Bucky had broken them up. Not even a few sentences and they were separated.

“Show it to me,” he snapped his head to Bucky, seeing the dead serious look in his face. It almost shook his nerves to see how much similar they looked. The dark eyes, serious expression and mild anger in his face. He looked older, a little bit more dangerous. He looked like James. “C’mon, glove off,” he ordered again. The soldier knitted his eyebrows and stared at him, being reluctant to obey, but the younger man slipped his gun over his shoulder and sauntered up to him, no jokes or words said as he grabbed his left forearm and lifted it. James didn’t even fight when he grabbed the glove at pulled it off. He wanted to, felt like he should’ve resisted. Everything he’d said earlier, about not asking questions about him and how he’d gotten the arm and how he’d taken down the troop overnight. It was gone in a matter of seconds as it was slipped off of his metal hand and the moonlight made it glint, shining dimly between them.

He didn’t seem scared, only curious as he thumbed at the knuckles and over the back of the hand, feeling along the thin plate that actually made the back of it. He looked like a child trying to read a new, and exciting book. He seemed completely enveloped by the appearance and feel of the impenetrable material.

James could see him listening as well, the very, very faint whir of the neural wires and feeds that were connecting to every nerve on the inside, the way they almost silently www’d behind the metal outter cover. It was the reason that Bucky had been unaware as he’d shifted closer, still fingering the hand and wrist with the thrumming taking his attention. He seemed so content to listen and feel that James had mimicked him, gradually beginning to focus on the quiet noise. But instead of messing with his arm, he focused on his past self, watching the way his he shifted slightly or how his breathing changed and how his eyes roamed the hand. He could feel the warmth pulsing through him as he watched, the fond hyper-observance catching detail and he was feeling the fondness gradually grow until the thought of the train suddenly hit him again.

Attached, he was getting attached.

He cleared his throat and reluctantly took his hand back, the glove too and he covered the metal up. He tried not to seem like he’d been dazing, but his current posture and gaze showed it clearly. Bucky could see that he was out of it. Distraction. He needed to distract and deflect.

“Why did you want me to come with you, anyway,” he saw a brow rise questioningly at him, as if asking to elaborate. It was a simple question… “You show up at the house and suddenly ask me if I’m on your side and if I’ll go with you. What gave you the idea that I could even fight with you? I’m not one of your soldiers,”

“Oh, that was actually a conversation between a load of us guys. We all voted on it,” James raised a brow this time, his thoughts blank while listening as they started a slow walk to… wherever Bucky was going. “I didn’t think anything of any of this when I first met you, just thought that it was one hellofa coincidence that we looked identical that you were here of all places. It seriously caught me off guard,”

“You and me both,” he let a casual smirk slip onto his face, Bucky returning one himself, a little wider and his actually met his eyes.

“Anyway, after the initial inner freak out, what Dugan said when he first saw us together got me thinking. We just happened to find each other during WWII, in Normandy where I was stationed. A guy that looks exactly like me appears in some old town that isn’t even on a map and can take down a shit-ton of badguys in one night. It’s impossible to believe, even with the proof,” he gestures to him, all of him, waving his arm up and down in his direction. “It sounds like some superhero comic book came to life. Hell, surprised there aren’t any about you. Or maybe there are and I just haven’t seen them. You got a hero name?” he had an anti-hero name… did that count? Anti-hero.

James shrugged and let a huff leave his lips.

“People called me the Winter-Soldier,” and he suddenly realized his mistake… he’d just opened a door to millions of thoughts buzzing through Bucky’s head when he sent a grin his way, like a boy who’d just been invited into a heroes club.

Why did he have to open his mouth...

“What’s your superpower? What’s your back-story? How’d you get them? Do you have a companion? Like a dog or something? Your arm clearly has some super-strength there, is that it?” Wow.... James raised a brow and gave him a slightly fond, and amused smirk. It made him realize just how young he’d been. Twenty-nine wasn’t old. He was still a kid in a way, a young adult that’d still get excited over something as simple as a wild thought. And in this time and place, something exciting was what they’d need. So, he cleared his throat and shook his head, deciding to just roll with it.

“I was trained in Russia. I can pick up any weapon and now how to use it. I have enhanced strength, speed, durability, stamina, agility, reflexes, and a regenerative healing factor. I’m a master in a shit-ton of different martin-arts and hand-to-hand combat. I trained in Knife Mastery. I’m a master marksman, assassin and acrobat. I’m multilingual and an expert pilot,”

“So, you’re basically a war machine?” Starks’ friend, that military man...

“I’d go with ‘walking tank’,” he didn’t actually believe that this was real, he was sure that Bucky was just making it all up with him for fun. He wasn’t sure if he should set it straight and actually tell him that none of this was fake, that he was the Winter Soldier and really had all the abilities he’d mentioned. But it’d open an even bigger door to ‘how all this could be possible’. And if this was overheard, it could spread between everyone and he’d end up being known and he was sure that it’d catch Starks attention- Howard Stark.

All of this was pointing against telling him, but he still had the option of telling the truth, half the truth, the only difference being that he’d have to explain a fake version of their relation, that maybe he was a grandson, or Son, considering the age. He could make out that Bucky had a son in his later years, like Howard with Tony. He’d have to be old to have him, slightly older than Howard.

Again, it was all pointing against telling him, but he was unsure if Bucky would find out either way. There was half a chance that everything would come out eventually and he’d be on the end of a scowl or betrayed expression. He didn’t want that.

“Why’d you choose Russia? Why not say Germany or France? I mean, that’s where we are,” the sentence confirmed that he was, indeed, taking this as some made up fun and he took a quiet breath at it, sighing slightly. It was unbelievable, all of it and that was why he was treating it as some joke.

He was trained in a highly fortified building in Russia, tortured, trained and broken until he was nothing but a reprogrammable robot, a thing meant to kill, terminate and make it either look like an accident and/or make it seem like he wasn’t even there. A ghost, a killer, an impenetrable machine that couldn’t die and was the man of nightmares to everyone that knew the name Winter Soldier. He scared other assassins, was the peak of danger and death and could take anyone out without them knowing.

He was a monster in human form. A mass of destruction fitted into a human body. A danger to everyone and everything around him.

“Because I was trained in Russia,” he’d said it, gradually stopping and looking at the ground a few feet ahead of him. He slowly lifted his gaze to the casually laid back man, seeing the brow raise and hearing the scoff through the grin on his face.

“Trained in Russia, in 2016?” he teased, mocked, joked. Whatever, he could take the mockery and joking. He couldn’t have cared less about any of it. He only nodded, because it was in the 2000’s that he was freed, he escaped.

“Until 2014, yeah,” he replied with a serious expressed, so dead serious that the grin slowly grew and he laughed, just a few simple chuckles.

“Yeah, and like I said, I’m one of Starks Go-,”

“-Go-go girls. May as well put a skirt on,” he crossed his arms, staying completely still as he eyed the questioning and mildly confused frown growing on his features. “It’s all real, everything I just told you. The abilities, Winter Soldier, being trained in Russia. The tech for my arm hasn’t even been discovered yet. The entire limb is made from a mix of Vibranium and Adamantium. One of those metals hasn’t even made it to earth yet,” he was pretty sure. He’d read a file on James Logan, Wolverine, and he was sure that there was still a really long time until that metal hit the planet.

“And you’re really from 2016,” Bucky made it sound more like a disbelieving statement than anything else, and it hurt slightly, though he couldn’t blame him. James had been oblivious and not so trusting in these times. He remembered that. “So what, you’re my grandson or something? Fuck off,” and with that, Bucky stormed off, walking away with an uncertain and irritated posture.

James was left standing there, knowing that Bucky would really, seriously be thinking about all this. There was so much evidence that he wasn’t normal and even he thought that it made much more sense with the suggestion of time travel. He hoped that Bucky wouldn’t abandon the thought and him completely because he’d pushed the gesture and idea of being able to shift through years and years.

The soldier would have to expand his own story if Bucky had more questions. He’d have to wait until he woke up. He was sure that he’d have more dreams from his younger self's’ perspective. Maybe he could get an idea on how to approach too.

[shadowreader23]

Time travel Barnes? Part 8

Bucky was still on duty, thankfully. It meant that there’d be less time spent together for the moment. During ‘clean up’, he’d thought deeply on what Alaric had said, that it was a matter of ‘should’ he change the past, than a matter or ‘would’. He was still stumped, still stuck on what he should do. On one hand, if he changed nothing, he’d be with Steve again, trying to rekindle their friendship after everything that happened. Yes, he’d still be the wanted Winter Soldier, but he’d have his best friend back, a man that loved him like a brother and would help him if he just asked, though he didn’t even need to. The help was just given if he recounted the last few days spent before he was sent back in time. He had a few others too, after that battle. Hawkeye, Ant-Man, Scarlet Witch… Falcon, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He was a jackass, but their interactions were that of two people reluctantly getting along for one man. James didn’t care, he was gaining more friends through this and even if his life at the moment was terrible, it’d only get better from there. He hoped.

And then, on the other hand… he wouldn’t have to go through what HYDRA forced on him. He wouldn’t kill anyone under their order. He wouldn’t be tortured or brainwashed until he was screaming his throat raw from nightmares and just in general. He wouldn’t be in so much pain and he’d be as happy as he was before HYDRA made their appearance. He wouldn’t be the weapon they wanted and wouldn’t have to cry himself to sleep after so many nightmares of memories coming back after the fall in DC. He could be happy and live with himself, as a Howling Commando. He could get himself a beautiful woman and maybe have a child… He could be Bucky again. He wasn’t sure if that meant that this version of himself would disappear, but he’d be happy again. That was all he wanted, above all else. A nice apartment, a smile, friends, Dugan, Monty, Morita, Gabe, Dernier, hell, even Phillips… and Steve. The weak, little, stubborn, scrawny guy from Brooklyn that wouldn’t back down from a fight. And it was supposed to be during this year that he’d be experimented on with the Super-Serum. He remembered it from the files he was given when Captain Rogers was his mission.

He was glad that Bucky was on duty, because he was afraid that spending more time with the man would sway his decision making. Yes, it was him, or used to be, but from his perspective, he was a man of his own and seeing him as such a down to earth, happy, loving and well loved man… he couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go through what HYDRA had forced him through, just to become the Winter Soldier all over again. It was heartbreaking and he could feel the sting of hate returning, making him think that he should stop Bucky from getting on that train. And from getting caught by HYDRA not long from now.

If he was on the metaphorical fence, he’d be leaning more towards saving his younger self… or ‘younger brother’ in this odd case. He was still mildly surprised that the man believed him so easily, about his story and similarity. He didn’t recall being that gullible, or naive. Which set him slightly on guard now that he thought about it. Bucky believed him too easily. He’d never been that trusting or believing. If it were James, his first step would’ve been…

… He would’ve attempted to get close from curiosity and then found out as much as he could.

“... Fuck,” he whispered quietly to himself. That was exactly what Bucky had done. He was smarter than he gave him credit for. How had he let him get that close? Thinking on it, he was sure that Bucky didn’t actually believe him, his story, his lies. He must’ve known that there was something off about him. And throw in that he saw him actually scare a soldier just by holding his wrist and threatening him. All of this would seem too odd and out of place to anyone.

He was being cautious, playing dumb and naive. He was messing with him and making James believe that he believed every damn word he said.

Things were getting serious. He could probably still pretend to seem oblivious of Bucky in that regard, but he’d have to make a move at some point. He’d have to find out what exactly he knew and/or thought of him. Tonight, he had patrol with Dugan. The first quarter of the night was their walk around. So James could easily skulk and separate them so he can get the information. It wouldn’t do to have the two there and he couldn’t round on him while they were in Hannah and Alaric's house. It would be disrespectful and he’d rather not let them watch or listen to them while he questioned Bucky.

James felt a hand pat his shoulder and he whirled around to face the old man, gesturing him back to the house. They were finished with the cadavers, having helped take them away. It wasn’t completely clear, but a little more work and it’d be fine and like it used to be. He’d help with that too. But as of right now, a bath would be nice, or he could wipe himself down with a wet cloth. As long as he got rid of his sweat, he couldn’t have cared less.

They made their way back to the house, James only having sent a friendly nod towards Bucky as they took their leave. It wasn’t long before they were back inside, the windows open to let in air. It was unsurprisingly warm, making everyone heat up too much. Alaric took the bath and James let him without saying a word. He’d stepped into the kitchen, holding a thick cloth under cold water. Hannah had left it there for him and gave him some privacy before he could take his shirt off, mask as well and he wiped his upper body down, sighing calmly as it dampened his warmth and cooled his down. He’d jump in the bath after Alaric, he just needed a way to take away the heat and that was what the cloth was for.

He lifted it above his head and squeezed, feeling the cold water dripping fast and cooling his skull through the thick hair, and then it streamed down his face. The soldier dropped the cloth in the sink and shook his head lightly, reaching for his shirt that he’d left on the table top. It was then that heard the door knock, Hannahs’ footstep striding through the living room until she was at the door, and then there was muffled talking, to which he listened out for. Bucky was at the door, Dugan too by the sounds of the voices. There were more footsteps and she was standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

“Oh my!-” James’ eyes widened and then he realized he hadn’t put the shirt on. He snapped a finger up to his mouth to shush her and then threw on his shirt at the rushing footsteps.

“What? What’s wrong?” Bucky came around the corner right after James put the shirt on and hid his hand behind his back, the metal one. Dugan was right behind him and they stared into the kitchen at him.

“Nothing, I just surprised her. I was out back,” he replied smoothly, messing with the glove he managed to grab. He slipped it on and relaxed. He was sure that they noticed something was off, but he’d acted casual enough that he’d hoped they were second guessing themselves. “Sorry you had to see that,” thankfully, the other two in the room didn’t speak German, otherwise this would’ve been awkward. “What’d you two need?” he casually stepped passed the slightly stunned woman and led the two into the living room, taking them away from the scene.

He crossed his arms and watched them, the two seeming a little disbelieving of what he’d said. They were scrutinizing him for the moment.

“We’ve got orders. We’re moving at dawn,” to the next town, he’d assume. Dugan had been the one to speak and he took a step towards him. “Are you with us? Or against us?” what? James stared at them with a creased brow, glancing between them. He didn’t say a word, trying to pick his words carefully, but Bucky got there first.  

“We asked around, the ones that could speak English told us that a guy with long, dark hair, black clothes, a mask and a silver arm saved them. I don’t know about the silver arm, but you’re the only one that wears a mask with long, dark hair,”

“Bucky,” James snapped his eyes to Dugan, a cold feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as he picked up the picture that the boy made for him. They stared at it, brows furrowing and they glanced up to him, the redhead eyeing his completely covered arm.

Guess they were questioning him right here. There were several interrogations he could think of that would lead to distrust or guarded questions and accusations. This was one. They were trying to find out which side he was on from what the townsfolk told them. And now, they were asking directly.

“Silver arm,” the bigger man turned the picture around slowly, as if to show that they had evidence. James stayed as calm as ever, his heartbeat regular, his breathing never picked up and he didn’t sweat or flinch, his training kicked in automatically. He’d half to lie again, maybe he could add some truths to his words. His actions with the Nazis were a bust, they knew that he’d killed them now and the suspicion was high because of it.

“It’s an advanced prosthesis,” he corrected casually, keeping his arms defensively crossed over his broad, strong chest. The two shared a look for a moment and he just watched as Bucky glanced at him, eyeing him over. He wouldn’t admit that he actually felt a pang of guilt for leading him on and telling him lies only to be stared at with so much distrust. James wouldn’t make the excuse that he’d been protecting him from the truth. He’d been saving his own ass from having to tell them who and what he was. Though, he had technically thought of protecting him by saving him from the train.

“Show us,” Dugan blurted bluntly, his attitude spoilt and demanding. He actually scoffed and shook his head. He wouldn’t show him. Not unless it was by accident, like Alaric and Hannah.

“No,” he replied simply, his posture seeming calm even though his muscles were tensing and clenching under his skin. This was going to go bad. He had the feeling in the back of his mind that this wouldn’t end as well as he’d wanted it to.

“Why not?” Bucky joined in, taking a step closer on the other end of the coffee table. This was the Sergeant coming out in him, a man he remembered somewhere in the back of his mind. He remembered the authority he’d had, the rank, the respect. He remembered having all of that because he was a damn fine soldier. The exact opposite of who he was at the moment. A damn great soldier, but for the bad reasons and he was damaged.

“Because my secrets are my own,” he’d almost bit out, his body tightening further as his brows knitted and dipped down in the centre. He was feeling the taut tension shooting through him and he didn’t like the faint frustration in his tone, the irritation and hate seeping in. He was gradually getting worked up.

“Trust is a big thing between us men here,” which he lacked. He had major trust issues, and he also knew that Dugan hadn’t been lying with that statement. Trust was a majorly huge thing with these soldiers.

“You want to know if I’m on your side, I am, but I’m not telling you anything that has any relation as to how I got this arm or how I could take down a troop of Nazis overnight,” he replied adamantly, his posture becoming tighter and more guarded as they seconds passed. He was getting antsy and too involved in this time, with these men. He needed to get out of there before he really screwed something up.

“Then how can we believe you? Or even trust you?” Bucky asked with some emotion. It wasn’t a flat question like the ones Dugan had been asking, his younger self was actually genuinely putting emotion into his words. He wanted to believe him?

“I don’t care if you believe a word I say or not,” James’ voice softened just a bit, but he still wasn’t calm. He needed to get out of there, needed some time to himself to think and get an idea on what the hell he should do and what he shouldn’t. “I just don’t want to have to tell you everything that physically and mentally scarred me,” he shrugged casually, still trying to calm himself down with them noticing that he was actually flustering on the inside. “I’m on your side, I’ll fight with you, but don’t ask questions about me specifically,” James reached out and carefully plucked the picture from Dugans’ hand, taking a glance at the crayon image before folding it, pocketing it and heading around them towards the door.

“Wait!” he actually reluctantly paused at Bucky’s word, though he didn’t look his way. “Does that mean you’re with us? You’ll come with tomorrow?” he frantically nodded and then headed out the door, closing it behind him and he rushed off, heading straight for the cornfield. Thankfully, there was enough cover there to drop to his knees and take an audible breath, like he hadn’t been breathing since they’d entered the house. He panted roughly, his hand reaching up to cover his mouth to muffle the noise and he dropped his head forward, still panting harshly.

This was too screwed up for him, and it was the Winter Soldier thinking it. It had to be screwed up for him to actually say it.

[shadowreader23]

Time Travel Barnes (Part 7)

Memories, he had new memories, or what seemed like new memories. But of the past, he-... He’d been talking to himself, an older version. He’d been Bucky talking to James, like the day before, but he’d been in Bucky’s place, sitting there in shock of seeing his face on an older version of himself… James changed the past? His past?

He gradually pushed himself up from his lying position, his loose hair not tied into his bun falling over his face as he glanced down into his lap and frowned. He’d gotten new memories from the old days, like he’d just remembered the moments spent with his older self yet, he’d remembered up until the day before, when Dugan showed up at the door and then went on patrol. He’d changed a minor thing, deciding to talk to his past self and now he had the memories.

At least he knew now that he could change a few things, though he’d rather not, in case he screws with something really bad. James had the choice of saving himself on the train, if he managed to say that long. He’d rescue him and none of this Winter Soldier bullshit would’ve happened. Or it would have, but he wouldn’t have to go through and become… this.

“Penny for your thoughts?” the soldier gradually turned his head to find Alaric in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. He’d known he was there, subconsciously. He just didn’t see him as a threat, so no alarms had gone off.

“It’s nothing,” he replied as he dropped his legs from the sofa and pushed himself up, stretching to unlock his stiff muscles and hearing the faint whir of his arm buzz faster with his movement. He held back a yawn and stepped around the couch, heading straight for the kitchen to make himself some coffee. He pulled the band out of his hair and shook his head, loosening and untangling the slightly curved locks. It straightened out instantly and slipped the band over his left wrist.

“Doesn’t seem like it. Something woke you, be it your own thoughts. It’s bothering you,” Alaric pointed out wisely, thoughtfully. A wise mind that came with experience and a different look on life. He knew what he was talking about and could actually see through James’ deflection. The soldier stopped at the threshold of the kitchen, eyeing him warily. He was an old man, just that, but he knew that something was bothering him. Something was on his mind, and he was dead on point with that assumption. It was clear that this man wasn’t an idiot, far from it.

“I had a son, Gustav. Much like you, he was strong, guarded, always in his own mind. He was a soldier,” past-tense… he ‘had’ a son, he ‘was’ a soldier. James eyed him again, staying completely still as the old man looked down at his coffee, seeming to think. “Brave, thoughtful, kind… but he was obvious to me, when he was troubled… like you,” James was only brave, thoughtful and kind when he was Bucky, and he hadn’t been that man in so many years. A lifetime ago.

He wouldn’t tell him. About HYDRA, about Bucky and James being the same person. About the ice and that he was brainwashed and forced to kill. He wouldn’t say a word of it, but a thought, a question was lingering in his mind, something that did relate to what was bothering him.

“...If you could change the past…” he switched back to English and paused, looking straight into the older mans’ eyes, staring without emotion. A flat gaze. “...would you?” Alaric stayed silent, watching him calculatingly with an old, wise gaze.

“It is not a question of ‘would’... but a question of ‘should’,” … should he change the past. “Changing something now might not change what will happen. Some things are set in stone,” James dropped his eyes, slow and gradual until he was staring at the floor, listening to what was being said with a laser like focus. “It is life. Better to let it work alone than to change,”

“Theoretically…” he paused, looking back up to the man and seeing his attention focus on him, his coffee in hand. He was basically going to give himself away when he asked this, but he was hopeful and sure that he’d keep it to himself. “If something sent you back in time… would you try to stop something bad from happening?”

If he gave himself away, Alaric didn’t say a word about it. Instead, he slowly nodded his head and drank the rest of his coffee, placing the cup down before standing. He never said a word, but he was sure that he now knew. He’d asked about the year when he first arrived, he hid his face, which was a give away to being suspicious, and he’d just spoke about time travel. It was all a huge give away and he was at the centre. But nothing was said, he stayed quiet. No questions, no picking-his-brain for information. This man was… he was understanding and didn’t seem to want anything from him.

“Let us get to work, yes?” James watched him as he stepped passed, turning to eye him back with an old mans’ smile. He could only smile back and nod, turning away from the coffee and stepping back over to the couch to see the extra clothes sitting neatly on the coffee table. At least he had an idea of where these clothes actually came from. The old man was slightly smaller than him and they were about James’ size. The son, Gustav. They must’ve been around the same size and/or build. Alaric was allowing him to wear his son's clothes while he was there and he was hugely thankful to the man for this.

He changed quickly, slipping into the dark blue combat trousers and a faded purple long-sleeved shirt. The man also seemed to be aware that he liked his arm hidden. He was helping him with keeping it concealed. Though, it made him wonder on how many long-sleeved shirts Gustav might’ve had. He used a few of them so far and he hadn’t been aware of clothes being hung out to dry. James slipped on his boots, tucking the bottoms of the pants into them and then he tied the laces, putting a pair of worn gloves on right after. He then followed the man outside, pulling his mask up and over his face as he stepped through the door.

The soldier was aware that there were still bodies behind the barn, sure that a few people may have noticed them, but he hadn’t known that Alaric had been one of said people. They were heading right for it and not long after, he noticed the men gathered around the area after rounding the corner. They were carrying bodies, dragging them and taking them away. They were helping clear out the mess. Even a few soldiers were there, Bucky and Dugan were too… Had they known? That he’d been the one to kill them? If not, then they must’ve been called over to survey. They weren’t helping, nor were the other soldiers. They were watching, keeping a sharp eye on the townsfolk. It irritated him slightly. They were distrusting of them as they cleaned out their own home. James felt guilty for having left them there like that, but the soldiers coming into town had hindered his previous plan of hiding the bodies in ditches far from here. He hadn’t had the time.

“Sorry I left them here,” he muttered to the old man as they got closer to the pile of bodies. Thankfully, it seemed like Bucky and Dugan were currently on duty. They hadn’t called to him and said nothing and he was sure that they knew he was there. And looking over his shoulder at his younger self only confirmed the assumption when he was thrown a smile and a lazy salute. He returned it and turned back to the bodies as they reached the piles and piles of them. There had been a few more than he originally thought. There weren’t many men here helping, but thankfully, there weren’t too many bodies either. A few short hours and the area would be void of corpses.

“Don’t be. Cleaning up will be a small chore compared to what you’ve done for us,” he didn’t say a word to that, only huffed and reached out to grab the body, Alaric helping him by grabbing the legs and he reached under the shoulders. There were carts waiting, a few filled up and they made their way over, carrying the limp, dead human towards one. There was a man standing up in it, ready to manoeuvre the body into a secure position as soon as they swung him up onto the edge.

It went on like that for some time. Grabbing a body, taking it to a cart, grabbing a body, taking it to a cart. Over and over and over and he was feeling the early afternoon heat. James could feel the warmth making him sweat. The constant need for the long-sleeves were hindering him and he was warming up fast. A few of the men had taken their shirts off, along with a soldier or two.

Thankfully, women were coming around with cold drinks, Hannah being one of them and he and Alaric sat against one of the walls, a cup in hand while she stayed quiet and close to take the ups when they were done.

James downed the last of his and pushed himself to stand, handing her the empty glass with a polite ‘thank you’. She seemed to be warming up to him, which he was happy with. He was fond of the two he was being housed by. She was a strong woman and Alaric was a very respectable man. After what the man had said that morning, it seemed to click in his mind as to why she was so distant with him. Alaric had mentioned that he and Gustav were similar in a few ways and that may be way she tried to distance herself from him.

“Hey! Kid!” James snapped his gaze around to where the voice came from and saw a child running towards him about a block away with a scared look on his face, a soldier chasing behind him with an irritated expression. The time travelling soldier quickly flipped a switch and he started power walking towards them, instinct taking charge. It wasn’t long before he reached them, a few short seconds and the kid was tackling his leg, his arms wrapping around his thigh and whimpering lightly, with the soldier reaching out for him with a still pissed look on his face. James then reached his own hand out and grabbed him, his wrist being held in a tight vice-like grip.

“Touch him and I’ll break it,” he squeezed to emphasize. The kids whimpering became the mans whimpering as he stared at him with a dark look and glared deeper, seeing the flash of fear in his face. He was trying to struggle out of the grip, but he couldn’t.

“Oka- okay, I won’t!” the guy panicked and James let go, watching as he was side-eyed while he rushed away. He’d definitely get shit for that. He’d messed with two soldiers now, to protect others. And if he remembered right, it wasn’t a smart move to pick fights with these men.

The soldier shrugged the thought off and reached down, grabbed the kids’ arms to lightly pry them from his thigh. He crouched down and eyed the boy, looking him over as he was still a little scared. He was panting and running his gaze all over him, like he wasn’t sure what to do. James decided to go with casual at this point.

“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” he asked the boy in his language, watching him frantically shake his head and then suddenly grin at him. He was quickly reaching for his pocket and then pulled out a folded piece of paper, slightly worn looking and it was thrusted into his chest by the excited boy. James was confused at this point and he just held it in his hand, looking up to the boy for a split second before using both hands to unfold it, his eyes opening a little wider at seeing the picture on the inside.

“You drew this?” he smiled faintly behind his mask, the amusement slipping through into his tone as he looked over the poorly drawn image. Obviously, it was a kids drawing. But he was thankful for it. It’s the thought that counts.

A man wearing black, had long hair and was wearing a mask was standing in the centre of multiple square boxes, to which he assumed were houses, with a few bodies dressed in green with swastikas on their arms and they were lying there surrounded by circles of red crayon. The Nazis he killed. It seems the word spread fast that he was the one that killed them. A few of them had already known that he’d killed them because they had seen him dart out and kill a few Nazi. But for the kids to now know meant that the entire town might know about what he’d done. The soldiers would know soon.

He glanced to see the nodding, a beaming grin on his face as he stared at James. “No one’s ever drawn me anything before,” he muttered quietly to himself, knowing the boy could hear and he did, by the sounds of the happy gasp and flailing arms.

“Really?” he hummed in reply, affirming his statement.

“You’re the first,” he smiled wider behind the mask and glanced back down at the image, looking over it again before folding it in his hands and looking back up at the boy. “Thank you. I’m Jamie,” he said softly and de-gloved his flesh hand to hold it out to the boy. It was instantly being shook, the kid now awed and really excited.

“Ralf, my name is Ralf,”

“It’s a pleasure. Thank you so much, Ralf,” he didn’t shake or anything after that. He saw a woman heading towards them, coming from where the boy had earlier and he stood up, picture in hand and turned the boy around. He walked them in her direction and gave him a little shove. Ralf gave him an excited wave before running off towards her, the lady giving him a gentle smile before he turned around and stared down at the picture as he made his way back over to Alaric. He ignored the slightly stiff expressions he received from the soldiers, Bucky and Dugan included.

-----

Part 8?

After i finish posting this story i will be posting a Huntik oneshot then A dick Grayson does the olympics story.

[shadowreader23]

Time Travel Barnes (Part 6)

He couldn’t remember if he was the type of guy that got over certain things easily. He really hoped he had been, otherwise, he’d be getting stared at for the remainder of the time that they were going to hang around together. Bucky was actually looking pretty pale, with his eyes directly fixated on him on the other end of the room, with coffee in front of him that was being ignored in favour of staring into an older mirror.

He just stared, wide eyed, mouth slightly agape, his body completely still. It was like he was actually in shock or became a statue. And James was worried that maybe he’d just broken him or something. He’d really hate if he just changed something in time by showing his face to… himself.

During the time that nothing was said, he wondered if maybe this would just disappear, like he woke up to realize that it was all a dream and that it was just an unconscious desire to return to the time when everything was so simple and it was just him and Steve against the world. The fights against the Nazi. And the dames and drinking games with buddies after cooling down for the night while serving.

He wanted to wake up and just be back in his old, rickety bed back in Brooklyn, Steve in the room down the hall, both getting up to have breakfast with his ma while listening to some old stuff on the radio, news paper already sitting at the table. No HYDRA, or SHIELD or superserum and enhanced shit.

… Like the Bucky he was currently staring back at…

Maybe, if all this was real, he could make a life for himself. Just something simple and small, an-... And maybe he can get a girl, have kids, buy a dog and live happily ever after with rainbows and butterflies and unicorn bullshit.

He huffed quietly to himself and leaned forward on the one seated sofa, reaching out to carefully pick up the cup of coffee and take a sip.

“Good night, men,” he glanced to the side, seeing Hannah wave to them with a hesitant smile before leaving the room, heading towards the door that led to a small bedroom that belonged to the couple.

“G’night. Thank you for the coffee,” he replied in a German mutter, taking another sip while Alaric got up and gradually followed behind the woman, probably planning to give her a proper ‘good night’ before coming back in. Like a kiss and a ‘sweet dreams’.

James sat back in his chair, both hands around his cup as the bottom rested on his thigh, warming it up instantly. He turned back to Bucky, seeing him glancing between the door where they’d left through and him, seeming to have a little more colour in his face than before. He must’ve been pulled from his stunned state by the sudden chatter in the room. But even though he seemed to be aware of everything now, it was still quiet, the silence gradually growing awkward on Bucky’s side of the room. It wasn’t completely that bad on James’, but he could tell that the other man was stumped, unsure on what he should say or what to do.

“My name’s Jamie,” he muttered deeply while looking over the rim of his cup, taking a sip of the warm coffee and watching as the other soldier eyed him warily before clearing his throat. It didn’t seem like he was going to say anything, he was just watching him. So he assumed that maybe he should carry on explaining a few things that Bucky could maybe start a conversation on, or maybe ask questions about.

“Jamie Barnes… or that was what the orphanage told me,” that seemed to catch his attention. His eyes widened a small bit and he was outright staring at him like he had two heads or he’d just seen his left arm and scars. “Said that I already had a name, that they gave me one before dropping me off there,” he emphasized ‘they’ to make it clearer on who he was talking about, their parents, or Bucky’s parents. “They raised me, I grew up and left, moved to Queens-,”

“You didn’t try to find ‘em? Ma ‘n Pa?” it was like he already accepted that there was a relation here, and it took him back. James was actually staring this time, watching him with a very mildly stunned look on his face. If he wasn’t from 2016, it would be a way too big coincidence that they looked identical, had a similar name and that his last name was Barnes. Clearly, he hadn’t ignored any of it and just seemed to accept it without a second thought. “Buddy, we coulda grown up together, or-,” he trailed off a little, pausing and looking lost. “-Looked out for each other and had fun. Like brothers,” was it supposed to hurt him after catching the weakness in his tone? The faint vulnerability? He’d know him less than a full twenty-four hours and he seemed so passionate all of a sudden, and over something that James made up to make life seem normal.

“I-,” he huffed. “I can’t remember if I thought of lookin’ for ‘em,” he put the cup down and ran his gloved hands through his hair, pulling the strands out of his face. When he looked back over his younger self, he noticed the curious and confused questioning eyes on him. “I was in a German hospital not too long ago. A nurse said I was hit by a truck outside of town, had a bad enough concussion that I lost a huge chunk of memory,” he lightly shook his head, the strands falling back into view as he moved to lean back in the chair and rested his skull in the hands still on his head.

“That sounds rough,” he knitted his brow sympathetically and seemed to relax slightly, seeming to stop and listen again as James shifted, bringing his booted heel up to rest on his other knee while leaning back into the arm chair.

“Wouldn’t know, can’t remember,” he scoffed humourlessly, seeing the light curve in one corner of Bucky’s lips. “And out of what I remember, in pieces. I grew up, moved to Queens. Got myself a decent paying job, and saved up ‘til I had enough to move overseas, and thensome,” he shrugged one shoulder, the free arm that wasn’t cradling his head.

“How long you been here? Why move overseas? And here of all places?” he actually seemed genuinely curious, if all the questions coming out in one hadn’t given it away.

“Couple of years, I think, and it was mostly out of curiosity,” he shrugged again, easily reaching out and grabbing his still warm coffee to take another sip, a little longer than the others. They were quiet for a few seconds, Bucky seeming to consider his words while nursing his own coffee. He seemed to be thinking, and hand by the faint twitches in the corner of his eyebrow.

“How long did it take you to learn German?” it was an off-hand question, nothing really important and it wasn’t a big deal, so he was thinking that this one would lead to more. Or maybe, he’d just been randomly curious to know.

“Not long. I learned as much as I could as fast as I could,” he didn’t actually know if that was a lie, because he didn’t remember anything about learning languages back in HYDRA, and he was sure he hadn’t known anything before, so they must’ve programmed them into him during his frozen periods or during the mindwipes.

“Have you ever tried German beer?” Yes, in fact, he had. Over seventy years ago, give or take.

“I have,” he smiled crookedly, taking the last gulp of his coffee before putting the cup down and relaxing back into the seat. He could already see the mischievous glint in his eyes, knowing what he was quickly planning in his head. So, to stop him in his tracks sooner better than later. “Don’t challenge me to a drinkin’ game. You’d die of liver failure before I’m even buzzed,”

“Oh really?” and… he was taking this as a challenge. Well done, James.

“Seriously, Sergeant. You really don’t want to try it-,”

“Knock it off with the formality. It’s Bucky-,” the next thing he knew, said soldier suddenly flailed until he was sitting on the edge of his seat, staring excitedly at him. “We need a nickname for you! Something like mine with a different first letter!” it was surprising to see how overly happy the man seemed to be about having an identical brother with similar names. It was odd, yet amusing. “You got a middle name?”

He never actually thought of adding a middle name his half changed alias.

“No, don’t think so,” he raised a brow at Bucky, feigning seeming thoughtful.

And before Bucky could even speak, there was a knock at the door, loud and heavy and by the disinterested huff, the sergeant knew who it must’ve been. He cleared his throat and stood up, putting his empty coffee mug down before heading around the seat and moving towards the door. He seemed to become careful as he opened it, a tired smile gracing his lips as he opened it fully and seemed to relax on the spot.

“Dum-Dum,” he grinned. Bucky seemed to instantly remember something and turned to him, his grin getting wider and he gestured him over. “Dug’, listen. There’s a reason why Jamie’s from Brooklyn, other than being born there,” he rushed out, still gesturing to him. James gave a tired sigh of his own and reluctantly pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders as he headed over and lazily stepped up to his side. He walked right into the soldiers field of vision and his face instantly dropped, utter shock written all over his features as he stared and glanced between them, going to stare again. “We’re twins, buddy,” he said excitedly, but then paused. “Wait, we’re twins right? How old are you?” he was thankful that he didn’t have to correct him, that would bring up more questions on how he actually knew.

“Thirty-two,” he answered in a quiet mutter, trying to ignore the intent stare that he was still getting from Dugan.

“So, maybe not twins,” James raised a questioning brow at him, like he was confused by his change in sentence. “I’m twenty-nine,” he seemed to notice and clarify for him.

“Holy shit, this is weird as all hell in a handbasket,” he turned to glance at the redhead of the three, seeing the still stunned look on his face as he frantically looked between them, again and again. It was completely understandable in this situation, seeing two identical guys in the same place even when they lived so far apart. Though James wasn’t from this timeline (sort of) so he had no clue as to why he was justifying it in his own mind. It’s not like they were actually related, but the same person, one having just been frozen over and over for a span of seventy years.

“Guess it makes sense, since you look a little older and a little bigger,” he gestured to his build, fully grown and broad with muscle on muscle trained into his body. He was a fully grown man, though Bucky didn’t seem that far off.

“This makes sense?” Dugan chirped up, still watching them like this was too unbelievable. “Two brothers, twins, born in different years, who didn’t even know that the other even existed, find each other after travelling over thousands of miles, during WWII,” yeah, now it did sound rather stupid when Dugan had said it like that.

“One hell of a coincidence,” Bucky mused with a grin, laughing lightly as he crossed his arms and looked over at him. James had only smirked and let out a faint scoff.

“Yeah… anyway guys, afraid I have to break you up for the night. Sergeant, time to patrol,” he mentioned tiredly, his constant stare starting to drop as did the mood, now that they had to part. Even James dropped his smirk at the realization of the time and knowing that they had to leave and do their jobs for the night. He was considering taking them up on their previous offer of tagging along on patrol. They’d get in trouble though, if they were caught. So he swallowed the thought and turned his gaze to Bucky.

“I’ll join you next time,” he let a soft smile grace his lips and patted the soldier on his back, a friendly, casual touch men occasionally shared.

“You better, Lucky,” he laughed a little and James dropped his smile to give him a flat stare.

“Be more creative, I’m not a damn dog,” he easily manoeuvred the man out of the door and he’d let out a few giggled, turning around to face into the building where James was standing, almost completely filling the space in the doorframe.

“See ya tomorrow, Jay?” he messed with his gun, subconsciously tapping the side with his fingers as the older look alike just nodded.

“If you’re still around, yeah,” he shrugged, watching as he shared a grin his way and almost skipped to the side as Dugan shoved him in that direction.

“See ya,” Bucky waved casually, a tired grin still on his face and James only gave a lazy salute before they turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. The soldier let a sigh slip his lips before he closed the door and stepped around the seats to relax back into the one he’d sat in before.

What had he gotten himself into...

---

Anyone want Part 7? Also if anyone has an a03 of fanfic.net acct you have my full lermission to repost this story on there just link my tumblr and let me know the name of the fic in the comments

[shadowreader23]

Time travel Barnes? Part 5

So, he'd admit that he was actually content, almost happy while talking to his past self. He hadn't realised just how upbeat and energetic he used to be. With his big gestures and constant talking, about everything and anything. He was somewhat wild and fast with movement and chatter, it was almost like he was talking to a completely different person, though if he thought about it, it was just that. He was talking to a man with his face and was slightly younger. They were their own individuals, but from the same time era where James was just frozen for a majority of the time and coincidentally ended up in the future with another Steve. Though out of the two, Captain Rogers was almost exactly the same as he used to be. Bubbly, easy to embarrass, truthful and chattery, true and strong and nervous and couldn’t talk to women. He was still the man from 1944...

Less than a few months from now, and that scrawny punk from Brooklyn would be the super-soldier that saved multiple platoons and troops from the hands of HYDRA, and saved his ass from being the Winter Soldier a lot sooner.

"Yeah, you should come along," he pulled himself back into reality when Bucky beamed a grin at him, causing him to raise a brow and sit straighter. He'd spaced out enough to actually zone out from the conversation.

"Sorry, what?" he took quick glances between Dugan and the younger version of himself. They seemed amused by this and just chuckled, Bucky slapping the side of his knee with his knuckles.

"Dum-Dum invited you on patrol, and I'm all for the idea," he repeated, still throwing that wide smile his way. James still couldn't imagine himself like that, smiling, talking and seeming so laid back, even in war. He was a complete 180 of this James Barnes, polar opposites. Also, he was pretty sure that they had the assumption that he was a soldier, because asking a civilian to join them would get them in trouble.

"No, I need to check on a few people," he gestured towards the town. He felt like he should after being dragged off by Tim Dugan. James didn't have the chance to check him over to his satisfaction and he wanted to make sure that Hannah and Alaric were okay. He didn't have a chance to ask. He'd just been dragged off. And he'd rather not spend an unnecessary amount of time with Bucky than needed. And it wasn't needed. He was trying to get his mind around what a paradox was and how it hadn't happened yet. He'd seen a few movies in the last couple of months, to waste time, and a few had time travel plots, most having issues with time paradoxes'.

He just assumed it was a person meeting himself in a time travel situation.

“I’ll walk you back,” Bucky mentioned with another smile before standing up, James calmly following the action and standing with him. He gave him an acknowledged nod and took a step away from the truck that they were leaning against, having sat on the front bumper.

“A’right, see ya guys later,” Dugan said as he stepped off to the side and started walking into the crowd of soldiers. It was getting dark now, the sky starting to dim and he was sure it was getting late now. Hopefully the men still in the town were letting people back in their houses for the night. He’d kick off if he returned to see everyone still ordered to stay against the walls.

“So, what’s an American doin’ here? of all places,” he took a quick glance at the younger soldier, seeing the curious gaze held forward, not looking at him, but staring ahead as they made it out of the mass of men in uniform. “And don’t give me that ‘I travel around’ crap, ‘cause if you did, I’m pretty sure you’d avoid all this shit,” he gestured around them, to the war, the gunfire, the explosions. And James didn’t remember being this observant…

He could make a joke out of what actually happened, just say how he ended up there, because he knew that Bucky would just laugh like he thought that James was messing with him. There was no risk with explaining it because it was so unbelievable.

“This guy, Zemo. He threw a magic rock at me and sent me through time. I woke up here in 1943 when I should be in 2016,” he scoffed under his breath, almost taken back when he felt his shoulders loosen up, like a weight was lifted. How the hell was that even a thing? The younger man suddenly barked a loud laugh, getting a few glances and he felt the hand roughly patting his flesh shoulder.

“Good one, and I’m one of Howard Starks’ gogo girls,” he managed to speak through his hysterics. “Seriously, you’d be way over a hundred years old by then! Or what, you my grandson or something?” his younger look alike kept laughing. And it’d be dead on actually, if his math was right. He was born in 1917, he was actually ninety-nine years old, a hundred next year. So Bucky didn’t know how close to the mark he was. But for time's sake, he’d stick with being early thirties, to coincide with Bucky being about twenty-nine at the time. So, say… James would be thirty-two, maybe thirty-three.

His comment on Stark had actually stunned him for a moment. Because he’d killed him and his wife and he’d met his son. Talk about terrible coincidences. And the grandson thing… he could use that as an excuse if they found out that he did, in fact, time travel, but that was an ‘if’ situation.

“I think you’d look good in a skirt,” and James let out a genuine chuckle when his flesh arm was punched, a good, strong hit jolting him an inch or two to the side as they walked down a narrow street towards the couple's house he’d been staying at.

“Queer,” they both let out a chuckle, gradually calming down. It was meant as a joke, no insult intended. And he wasn’t hurt by the word. He was gay, or straight. He’d lost the want or interest years ago, after he was first brainwashed. It was all taken from him. Though, he had a few thoughts from the past, when he was the Sergeant. He remembered that he’d had fleeting thoughts on his sexuality. He’d just never acted.

“I don’t actually see anything wrong with it,” he muttered unintentionally out loud, his mind getting the best of him for a few moments. And he’d only realized he’d said audibly when the extra footsteps alongside him stopped, pausing at his words. James slowed down, his brow raising as he turned to see the open expression he was getting. Curiosity, surprise, caution, thought. Thankfully, he knew that he wouldn’t be judged by himself, considering the thoughts he’d had during this time in the 1940s’.

“The… skirt thing or the queer thing?” he asked quietly, wanting to make sure on what part of this they were actually talking about.

“... Homosexuality,”

“You don’t... are you…” his brows knitted with his words hushed, trailing off on his unfinished question. James took a breath, glancing down the street before turning back to his younger self.

“No, but I’m not straight either,” he answered quietly and honestly. Hopefully that would end this conversation. He’d rather not get any further into his thoughts and a few flashes of memory.

“Does that mean you’ve never had sex or something? No dames?” he raised his own brow at him.

“I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex, I just don’t have a preference,” he shrugged his shoulders, crossing his arms in an unintentional defensive position.

“And… does that mean you’ve had both in bed with you?” he seemed all too curious about this and it was gradually getting uncomfortable. Because yes, he’d had it both ways, though with men, James had been in the womans’ perspective. He’d been glad that Rumlow hadn’t been one of those men that would force him any further than just sex. No insults, or blowjobs and dirty ‘slut’ talk. It’d just been ventive sex to relax him under Pierces’ order. And that, he was glad for.

“Like I said, I don’t have a preference,” he shrugged again, turning around to start walking again. He wanted this conversation to stop, so spending less time standing in the middle of a street would be helpful. And he was hopeful that his words would seem more like a conversation stopper with its’ bluntness than a cue to ask more questions. And he was thankful that they were still standing close, they hadn’t had to have the conversation with the usual volume to their questions and answers. They’d hushed each sentence out of caution and fear that they’d be caught speaking about this.

He could hear the silence leaving his past self, his boot steps picking up the pace to catch up with his own and it was odd that he was feeling sort of… fond, at this point. He had this odd fondness when he heard him trying to catch up and keep a steady walk next to him. The younger James Barnes was following him, like Steve used to, an excitement and curious glint in his eyes on what the next adventure might be and he was eager.

James just hid the feeling, dulled it down in his body and tried to ignore that slight fondness he was having for Bucky. It reminded him of a little brother in a way. And that was why he was trying to ignore the feeling. He didn’t want an attachment. He didn’t want to be attached, to anything or anyone.

And he also didn’t like he’d been so open and revealing about himself, to himself. And in general, but it was a little more uncomfortable that he’d said all this to his younger self. He was sure that if it were possible, he’d change time. Telling him this could cause a butterfly effect and that wouldn’t be the best thing to do. One thing he said could start something else and it’d just keep changing and hell, he may accidentally make it so someone wasn’t born, or he made it so someone got hurt or maybe Tony Stark wouldn’t live and...

Stop thinking… he needed to stop thinking about it. He’d just depress himself and that wouldn’t be the best move in this time timeline. He needed sleep and that was exactly what he planned on doing after getting to his rest-zone.

“This is me,” he calmly muttered, breaking the silence as they stepped up to the couple's house, and hearing the noise inside and the door suddenly swinging open actually surprised the both of them, Hannah dashing out and coming closer to him to check over him. She glanced all over, eyeing him with concern. He must’ve grown on her over the very little time he spent there.

“Why did they take you? Are you fine? You’re not hurt?” she rushed out in German, her hands not even hesitating in reaching out and touching a sliver of skin on his face that showed and the rest of her palms held over the fabric of the balaclava.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I was asked to meet the Sergeant,” he pointed out calmly, his gloved hands reaching up with a lot of hesitance and resting over hers, gently moving them from his face and directing a gesture to his look alike next to him. And as soon as she and her husband sent him a look, they paused, both seeming completely stunned by his appearance. “I think we may be related,” he added unnecessarily.

“Why-uh… why are they looking at me like that?” he heard Bucky whisper the question to him, speaking warily and hesitantly as he backed up a step and a moved a little behind him. This was… he’d have to tell him now, he’d have to lie and roll with his original plan. There was no getting out of this at this point, so he may as well go with his plan.

Hopefully, Bucky wouldn’t freak out too much over this. He’d obviously be severely surprised and probably wouldn’t go on patrol. He’d maybe send another man out so he could spend time talking to him and trying to get something out of him as to why they seemed so similar. Thankfully, James had already said that he was formerly from Brooklyn, so he’d stick to his plan. What he was a little concerned about, was if he’d changed anything in the timeline that would have Bucky sent home. He’d rather not have him ask his parents, because that wouldn’t end nicely.

James would now have to tell him that his name was Jamie, though he wasn’t too sure on the last name. He could say that the Orphanage he was left at had known that the Barnes had given him up and that he was Jamie Barnes, born in 1914. That’d make him thirty-two, while Bucky was twenty-nine. Three years between them seemed fair.

After years spent in an orphanage, he’d left after reaching a good age and moved to Queens’, where that Spiderman lived, or that had been what Steve told him on the jet, or left New York completely and travelled around until he landed in Europe years ago and just stayed there and that was where he’d learnt German.

James had almost sighed, now having to tell the man that they were related, and lie about it, no less. This entire experience would be a lie and it’d all be caused by him having been sent there by a man with a stupid shiny rock. If he ever returned he would rip out Zemos’ spine and feed it to him.

Well, now that he had a plan to follow...

“Because…” James paused, unintentionally turning around with too much of a dramatic feel and eyed him confidently. “They’ve seen my face and…” he couldn’t actually say it, too shaken. So instead, he reached up and played with the upper hem of his mask before tugging it down his face and over his jaw to reveal his features.

Bucky’s face just… it turned to pure and utter shock and fear.

[shadowreader23]

Time Travel Barnes? (Part 4)

It was the familiar voice that caught him at first, and then the familiar face. He was looking over at a man coming his way, two soldiers that he used to know. He knew him Dum-Dum, from the 107th and then he became a Howling Commandos alongside him and Steve. Seeing that actually shocked him, his entire body froze as they got closer and closer, his breathing caught and he stood straight. He made sure that his face stayed the same, the angry expression. And that seemed to catch his attention, making him almost wary. He seemed laid back, but he was on guard.

“Get back in line, sir. I’d rather not tell you again,” Dugan twitched his gun subtly, as if gesturing that he’d use force if necessary, but he just eyed him, carefully keeping his gaze firmly focused on him. He looked up to his mask a few times, occasionally questioning it.

“Can I check on the old man first?” he asked calmly, gesturing over his shoulder at the scared senior who was frantically glancing between them and looking away to somewhere on his left. James realized after taking a quick glance, that there was an old woman and a younger one with a child there, frantically staring back at the man. It must’ve been his family, the ones he was trying to get to when the jackass soldier saw him move.

“Yeah, make it fast,” the big, red-headed soldier casually waved him off, raising a brow after probably noting down his accent. James didn’t bother hiding that he was American. And that was probably a bad move, because they may ask him questions, they as in any soldier than happened to catch him talking bilingually.

Either way, he swiftly turned and stepped towards the old man, eyeing him carefully.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he? ” he also didn’t bother with cooing the man. He was sure that most of the men here fought in a war, served and lied down their lives, and he knew that being coddled wouldn’t be something they wanted, so his tone was somewhat flat and blunt. And the smile and little laugh he received confirmed what he’d thought.

“I’m fine, boy. I’m fine, thank you, ” he said with a deep, rough and gassy voice. He patted his arm and shoulder a few times, as if to show that he was okay and took a glance to the side, at his family. James did too, eyeing them before turning back to the old man. He seemed calmer, breathing having slowed from its pant. He must’ve been scared from watching what had unfolded in front of him. The soldier that James put on the ground. He must’ve thought that he’d get into trouble for saving him.

He patted the old mans’ shoulder before turning back around, glancing towards Dugan and eyeing him and the other soldier edgily. Luckily, his past self was nowhere in sight, so maybe he was checking around the corner with a few other soldiers. He wasn’t sure on how he’d react to seeing himself and he didn’t particularly want to find out.

“You’re American,” Dugan inevitably pointed out, just a simple statement that James inwardly cursed at. He wanted to avoid all this together, but if he remembered correctly, the man would keep talking until he had an answer for something. If James stayed quiet, there’d be a question after a question, after a question.

“I am,” he replied flatly, staying perfectly still in place with the two soldiers watching him. The one he floored was now standing further back, behind the, soon to be, Howling Commando.

“Where from?” another question came.

“New York,” he didn’t want to give away exactly where. They’d more than likely drag the James from this time into the conversation. There’d be more questions and paragraph upon paragraph of stories of the man or he’d appear at their request and that’d be a bad move. And he could say he was from anywhere else in New York. If his mask came off, there’d be more problems. Though saying that he was originally from Brooklyn, but moved at a very young age, it’d give him a chance to pass himself off as a relative or something if he was caught out.

… None of this sounded sensible or logical at this point, but what did? He was seventy years into the past with a younger version of himself running around. He was currently standing in front of two men he knew and was wearing old clothes that covered an immensely high-tech arm. What made sense anymore…

“Where in New York? The accents familiar,” accent? He’d admit that his Brooklyn twang surfaced every now and again, but it wasn’t that strong to recognize it or even hear it. And if it was, then his idea on saying that he’d moved at a young age was screwed.

“Originally, Brooklyn,” he added and inwardly winced at the realization-widening of their eyes, as if they just registered the place he said. He didn’t like seeing the flash of fondness over the name. They clearly knew something from the one word.

“Our Sergeant’s from Brooklyn,” the red-headed man smiled widely, dropping his firm hold on his weapon and letting it hang there, an arm resting over the top. His guard was lowered too, not seeming so dangerous anymore. He had a carefree smile as the guy he floored lowered his own weapon a few inches, apparently picking up that there wasn’t any danger or threat, even if James dropped the guy on his ass. They were calm, as well as James. He was gradually finding it easier to handle this situation now that he didn’t have guns aimed at him. “Heard of Bucky? James Buchanan Barnes maybe?”

… If he only knew...

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” he eased out the lie, his posture beginning to relax as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned slightly onto one leg. It was glad that the conversation and atmosphere seemed to ease up, because the crowd around them seemed to calm as well. There was more chattering and whispers and less crying and whimpering. The almost comfortable chat between James, the man that saved the town, and these soldiers was calming everyone in the vicinity. A domino effect.

“Huh, well you should meet him. He’s always talkin’ about Brooklyn, maybe meeting another guy from home would bring a smile to his sorry sack ofa face,” he was going to ignore that comment. If he remembered correctly, he got homesick if he was gone for too long. Leaving his family, Steve, the women and friends. He’d easily miss home, but keep it to himself so he would piss anyone off.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, instantly regretting it. He’d basically just agreed to maybe meeting his past self… “But I can’t remember a lot. I left Brooklyn when I was young,” he added, trying to seem put off about it, to maybe get them to reconsider. This obviously didn’t happen.

“S’aright, he’ll tell you what you’ve missed,” his smile just grew and he took long strides towards him, his hand reaching out and slamming down on his shoulder-blade, thankfully it was the right side, though not so thankful from how hard the contact was. He actually felt the faint hot sting on the skin under the shirt. His heart began to hammer in his chest when he was steered away from the crowds and towards more soldiers gathering at the entrance to the town. There were tents being set up, far apart with military vans parking up, scattered around the grass and nearby trees. They were going to camp out for the day, maybe two depending on if they were called out to another town. “So, what’s your name?” this was a question he was asking himself. He’d gone through names the day before, but he wasn’t too sure on which he should pick. There were so many he could choose from. He’d even thought of picking a name close to James, just in case he was found out. And then, as he’d said before, he’d be able to pass himself off as a brother or something. So Jamie was the closest name he’d thought of. And so...

“Jamie,” he muttered more than said, his voice quiet as they headed between a few soldiers just inside the town. For the most part, they were ignored, but there were eyes on him, watching him and questioning him, and the mask. It seemed to attract attention, but he was sure that taking the mask off would attract even more unwanted eyes. A few just said ‘hey’ to Dugan, completely bypassing him.

“You got a nickname, Jay?” the voiced boomed right into his ear as they squeezed passed a few more soldiers crowding around two tents. They were stepping around the field just inside of the town, passing by another barn, a more used and rotting one than the one he’d used to stash the bodies behind.

“I guess I do now,” he wasn’t going to say anything about the ones he currently had, or used to have. He didn’t like Winter, courtesy of Brock Rumlow. He was definitely keeping Bucky to himself. Terminator and Robocop would pass their heads, being references to future movies, according to Hawkeye. He really didn’t get them either. Barton kept calling him the two names on the way to the German airport. Even Ant-man joined him, though a lot more wary and hesitant than the archer.

He really couldn’t think of any other… So, Jay it was, he assumed.

----------

It was like he was staring into a mirror, a younger mirror. James wasn’t that much older, maybe five years at least, if he considered every time he was dragged out of Cryo and the months he’d spent hiding after DC. But ‘ Bucky ’ definitely looked far younger with short hair and those baggy, mud-green trousers and long-sleeved, green shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to about mid-forearm. He did look really young. Now James looked older. So… either he could risk pulling off the older twin, which there was a less chance that they’d believe him, or he could pull off the ‘older brother by a couple of years’ thing. Because James was actually older at this point, and he had thicker stubble than this James, and it was apparently proven that stubble makes you look older. Or that was what he remembered from watching TV adverts.

It’d also make an easier story to say that he grew up in an orphanage. It’d give the impression that Bucky’s parents gave him away and that was why he knew nothing of an older brother, and make it seem like it was vice versa. The only problem would be that their parents were still alive, and Bucky could easily return home and asked them. Though… he didn’t remember returning to his house or his parents between now and when he fell from the train. So maybe this would be the easiest story he could roll with in this situation.

He just needed to act oddly with Bucky, glance at him a few too many times and eventually remove his mask. But he needed the right timing for that. It was all he could really do at this point. He couldn’t leave now, not with Dugan on his shoulder and soldiers surrounding them.

And honestly, he was sure he’d do more than his fair share of staring. So acting this out wouldn’t be too hard. It was just the question of the James of the past believing him. And he recalled being a stubborn basterd back then.

“Serge, got a present for you,” Dugan beamed as they got closer to his… uh… as they got closer to Bucky . The man looked up from where he was sitting on the bumper of one of the trucks, messing with his gun. There was an instant crooked smirk curling his lips and he moved to stand, glancing over him instantly with curious eyes. And much like most of the other soldiers, he paused on his mask, eyeing it for a few seconds before laughing a little.

“A guy wearing a mask?” his voice was almost exactly like his own, minus the roughness from years of lack of speaking and minus the flatness and general exhaustion.

“Not just any guy wearing a mask. A guy wearing a mask who’s from Brooklyn,” as soon as Dugan said it, Bucky’s face snapped to him. He could barely catch the emotions rolling over him because of how many there were. Happiness, relief, warmth, hope, delight. There were a few more, but they seemed to pass by frequently.

“You are? Seriously?” James really couldn’t get over how happy he seemed from just hearing this. Was he always this cheerful?

“Yeah,” his lips twitched under his mask. His past self was talking directly to him, and he was lot more nervous than he thought he’d be. On the inside anyway. On the outside, he was calm, composed, all trained to not match his actual feelings if his inner feelings were compromised. “I… moved away when I was younger. Started travelling around,” It wasn’t technically a lie. He didn’t ‘move’ as such, he was taken. But he did travel, for his missions. He went everywhere, from Europe, to Norway, to Africa, to London, to-... He was pretty sure he’d been almost everywhere.

“So, I take it, you don’t know that there’s a shit-ton of new deli’s and bars everywhere?” Bucky got closer, a fond smile on his face as he stepped up to him. He still glanced at the mask, but said nothing, his attention on the shared Brooklyn experience instead of the odd fashion sense.

“Is Brooklyn just a Deli and bar city now?” he raised a brow with his sarcasm, hearing the other man bark out a laugh. He understood the joke just fine and he was glad that he took his dry-humour in. Truthfully, James couldn’t remember the last time he actually cracked a joke, dry ones included.

“I’d be surprised if my house is still there when I get back,” his humour was just as dry and flat as his own. So, maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought to get closer to his past self.

[shadowreader23]

Time Travel Barnes? (Part 3)

The only words that could describe his current mood and position, was pouting, maybe sulking. Because this was, indeed, 1943 and he was in Normandy. Almost exactly where Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was stationed at the damn time. So yes, the sulking in private was necessary to him. The world seemed to be working against him, rather than with him. There was a higher than fifty percent chance that he would run into himself and he didn't want that. He wanted fewer issues and the world seemed to want to give him more on top of all of the issues he already had.

James was sitting on the worn carpet, his knees held up to his chest while he was huddled between the coffee table with his back against the sofa. He wasn’t able to sleep and he wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t sleep through the rest of the hours of the extremely early morning. He planned that early in the morning, maybe seven or eight, he’d start disposing of the German soldiers he’d taken out while the townspeople would mourn and/or bury their loss. He wouldn’t do it himself unless he was asked, it was too personal and private for James to do it. It wasn’t his right. And it wouldn’t feel right. If he was asked, then he would help. But the German soldiers, the Nazi were his priority.

He was tempted to start now, to go outside and begin piling the bodies, readying them for a ditch or a fire. At least then he could disappear tomorrow and narrow the chances of running into his past self. He was sure that a team was already heading their way, having probably already gotten the call of an invasion of the town. He’d rather not risk a meeting if it was the Sergeant or someone who knew him. He could be mistaken for him or he’d be noticed and the man would be called out. It was an incredibly slim chance, but a chance he’d rather not risk.

The soldier took in a deep breath and let it out as a quiet sigh. He was tired, he really was, but everything that had happened and what he knew was to come from memory. It was all getting to him and forcing his guard to heighten and solidify. His attention was drawn to every little thing and he was sure that sleep wouldn’t come to him. It’d be impossible at this point.

After that hot bath, James had got dressed and walked into the living room, meeting the old man there, Alaric, pronounced as Al-ar-ic. Hannah was the woman, she was very kind and wary of him.He was surprised that they both weren’t, but he was sure, from what he’d gathered of the old man, that he was formerly a soldier himself, maybe having seen too much in his time and wasn’t too afraid because of what his eyes had witnessed before. Someone killing another person must’ve have been a new thing to see.

With another deep sigh, James pushed himself from the floor, trying to be as quiet as he could while climbing up onto the sofa. Screw it, he wanted to at least try to rest. He had maybe two or three hours before he planned to go outside to start piling bodies, and it wasn’t even that bright out. So, thinking that resting on the sofa for those hours would rejuvenate him enough to work for a good few hours the next day, regardless of the super-serums’ limitless energy.

He slipped under the extra blanket and dropped his head on the overly fluffy pillow, half of his uncovered face disappearing into it. He was too comfortable, it was too easy to physically relax into it. James wouldn’t fall asleep, but he would be able to rest his eyes and body for the next few hours. He'd just be aware of everything around him and if something happened. He'd only seem as if he were asleep, to the couple and whoever else showed up.

----------

Which was almost impossible since his senses picked up every little creak of wood, every little drip from the faucet in the kitchen and every little noise the bugs and birds made from outside. The cricket sounds and the chirping, the creaking of the house and trees swaying, the barn doors opening and closing with the light breeze. Most of it was somewhat calming, but it got annoying pretty fast when all he wanted to do was relax, so he wouldn’t be overly irritated and edgy by the time he was outside, cleaning up bodies.

He already knew that he frightened the townspeople by just being there. They were wary of him because he was able to take out every Nazi man that was there in one night. They hadn’t even seen him and they were afraid. He was damn lucky with this couple.

It was nearly dawn, the light beginning to spread and slip into the room. It was a dim blue, changing the hue around him. It made it seem like a summer morning, a sun-following, a sun that you’d get out of bed for.

James let an irked sigh leaving his lips and seep into the pillow, his face almost buried completely in it. He was physically comfortable, but his mind definitely wasn’t. Already having gauged his mood, he would make sure he’d avoid verbal and physical contact with anyone and everyone. He’d stick to himself and keep quiet as he’d clean up the bodies.

The soldier released another huff and pushed himself to sit up, letting his legs drop over the edge to press down on the carpet. He glanced around and reached for the extra clothes on the coffee table. He quickly and quietly slipped out of the garments he’d worn the day before and jumped into a pair of really dark green combat trousers and a faded grey long-sleeve. There were gloves there too, which made him very thankful to the old man. He seemed to be aware of James’ need for discretion without the solder having to say anything. He’d really need to thank the man for the long-sleeve and gloves. He wouldn’t need the scarf placed next to the gloves, he had his balaclava, though he was sure it was there if he wanted to use it.

He easily dressed, slipping into the clothes. He tucked the bottoms of the trousers into his mid-calf-high combat boots, tying the laces tight afterwards. James stood and tucked the hem of his slightly large shirt into the waist of his trousers, belting the pants up before looking at himself. He then grabbed the gloves and slid them over his hands, concealing the metal first. Then the end of the sleeve was tucked into it. He’d done the same with the other, to make it seem less suspicious, even if it didn’t. James wouldn’t admit that he was paranoid, but he assumed that it was him being just that in this time. It was only the war that was the threat. He wasn’t being watched of surveyed by anyone as of yet. HYDRA was still hidden until next year. They were outted after the 107th was captured.

The soldier looked himself over for the second time and lightly shook his head, shrugging himself off before he stepped around the furniture and made his way towards the front door. He’d made sure that, after his bath the day before, he’d tossed the other German soldier outside, the one he’d raided, and that was what he was met with after opening the door and stepping out into the cool morning air. He’d almost scoffed after just staring for a few seconds.

James reached up to his neck and grabbed at the hem of his balaclava, raising it up until it covered a majority of his face, from the rig of his nose and cheeks down. The only skin that was showing at this point was a sliver of skin under his eyes and his forehead and temples, though they were almost completely covered by his ‘still’ long hair. He wondered if Hannah had a band he could borrow, but he’d dropped the thought as it came. They’d given him so much as it was, even a hairband would be too much in his eyes, at this point.

He subconsciously reached for one side of his hair, tucking it behind his ear as he made to step around the now dead body, reaching down to grab at his wrists and began dragging him towards the barn. He’d noticed the empty field behind it, no plants or flush fields, just dead grass and mountains of dirt where he could burn each body. He’d take them further from the town though, in case the closer part of the field would be used to bury the loss of the town.

The soldier easily switch around and lifted the body with his metal arm, now having the limp Nazi over his shoulder. It’d be a decent workout, considering that there were bodies upon bodies that he’d left lying in alleys. So many of them and he’d be lugging them around the streets until he reached the field. James would pile them up first, hide them behind the barn just in case. If there were kids running around, he’d rather not leave corpses lying around in broad daylight. He’d scare more people and he really didn’t want that.

James walked around the large shed slash barn, striding all the way around to the back to where he’d deposit the body and leave to collect more. One right after another, and then another, and then another. He did this over and over until the light of the sun was shining over the streets of this little town, lighting everything up with a warm breeze and glow. It was way passed down, maybe passed nine or ten in the morning? And looking around almost confirmed it when he’d seen a few people walking around, hesitant, worried, and scared.

He didn’t make eye contact with anyone as he continued, trying to seem as harmless and as to himself as possible as he picked up bodies, two at a time and took them to the back of the barn. And he’d continued to do this unless he was asked to stop. Which happened at least three times in an hour...

… To be thanked.

He’d had no clue as to what to say or do at the time. The first few times, he’d just stayed characteristically silent as they instantly reached for his flesh hand and shook it rapidly. It had shocked him, stunned him and he’d fought off the instinctive urge to step back or guard himself. Instead, he’d let them thank him in their language, seeming scared yet so grateful to him for what he’d done.

A few actually followed him around, a handful watching him as he grabbed bodies and took them to the barn, dropping them behind it and out of view. It was odd, but he’d easily ignored it. Though that was until Hannah cautiously made her way towards him as he took a minute break outside of the house. Alaric had even joined her and was giving him a tired smile, to which he returned with a subtle, single nod.

“Drink,” Hannah offered, holding out the cup of juice with one hand and a sandwich in the other. He’d just noticed, but she had a subtle smile on her lips too. James gave her a slightly wider one and reached out.

“Thank you,” he spoke softly and genuinely in their tongue. He hadn’t actually thought of food, hadn’t crossed his mind that he’d be hungry until later in the afternoon and he’d hoped that it would be about the time he’d attempt to leave maybe. He still planned on disappearing, hopefully, before USA troops arrived. “I can’t thank you enough,” he added, slightly quieter than before as he examined the food and drink and took the first bite.

“I think you have it backwards,” she beamed fondly at him, her eyes slightly brighter than before as she watched him. “It’s us who can’t ‘thank you’ enough,” he could practically feel the warmth coming off of her now. He was thinking that maybe her initial shock had worn off and now that she was composed, she saw him differently, much like how everyone else in this town seemed to. It was odd. James really hadn’t expected this reaction from them. He’d figured that’d they’d be terrified, wouldn’t even think of being near him, being close or even thanking him with such enthusiasm. It was a change, and one he was very grateful for. It lifted his mood to know that he wasn’t feared for what he’d done. It brought back some life to his own and he could feel a slight spark light in the pit of his stomach. What that was, he had no clue, but he didn’t dislike it.

----------

James was walking back around to the front of the barn when he saw it, the mass of men across the cornfield and striding and driving along the road that led into the town, the one he’d crossed to get in the day before. They were earlier than expected if he was right thought they were. And by the size, he’d be surprised if his past self ‘wasn’t’ apart of that lengthy troop.

The soldier let a shaky huff leave his throat and pass through his lips, catching and heating up the area of his balaclava that was against his mouth. He quickly trotted off towards the house he’d been staying in, easily catching sight of Hannah on the door, chatting with a few other women, most scared and holding tight to a baby and two kids cuddling their legs. The children eyed him warily, thought one stared in awe as he came closer, catching their attention and smiles. It was still odd seeing no fear in the adults. Though he wasn’t complaining.

“US troops are heading this way, can you spread the word and gather everyone?” he rushed out with clear words in their tongue, glancing between each of the women to see the sudden snap of attention and there were rushed nods and words strewn around. They quickly did as he asked, separating off into different directions and stopping a few people as they ran around. He watched them speak to the ones in his sight and they intern glanced at him with concern and they ran off to spread more of his words.

It had only taken a few minutes for the word to get far enough around. The ones that hadn’t heard had followed the growing crowd to the centre of the town, slightly closer to the road that led in and out. And in the distance, the large mass of armed men could be seen heading their way. James had joined the crowd, sticking closer to Alaric and Hannah as if instinctively labelling them carers for housing him. Needed protecting, and so did this entire town...

When did ‘I need to leave before the US arrive’ turn into ‘I’m keeping this town safe, under my protection’? Somehow, that was what had happened and now he was standing there, in the group of people while waiting for the troops to arrive.

By the time the military had swarmed at the entrance to the town, the entirety of the people had gathered restlessly, only letting enough room for maybe half of the company to assemble and force their way in. The intimidation worked on almost everyone, men telling people to move back and spread out by physically moving them towards the walls of houses. James felt a rush of anger at seeing them being manhandled.

“I said, over there!” an American ordered harshly at an old man only a few feet away, and that was what made him snap. Even with Hannah and Alaric calling to him, he stomped forward and reached out with his metal hand just as the soldier was about to use the butt of his gun as the weapon. He’d grabbed it and swiftly got in the way, between the two and he scowled, using enough strength to make it so the man couldn’t move his weapon. “Get back in line!” he hissed in his face and James shoved him back with a faint growl, gritting his teeth. It was as if he was moving on instinct to protect the man. They shifted further back on the former Winter Soldiers’ strength, James putting enough force into moving them away from everyone until the soldier was trying to move James back. He’d laugh if he could, what with how weak it felt in comparison.

But then he flipped the gun quickly, using the head of it as a weapon and roughly whipped the man in the face with it, shocking him with the pain and hearing the high ‘thwack’ of it while he staggered back, still holding onto the gun, but James only need to push the weapon forward in his grip, the man stumbling and then falling back onto his ass. James glared down at him, eyes dark and threatening, intimidating and the look only darkened further at the fear that seemed to grow.  

“You aim guns at threats. Does he look like a threat to you,” he’d hissed out in a deep, rough tone, glaring daggers into the shock and fear that spread across the man’s’ features. “Answer!” his voice deepened and the man actually jerked in fear.

“Put the gun down and get back in line, sir,” James only glanced up and he was double taking, his eyes widening for a split second at the familiar face.

[shadowreader23]

Time Travel Barnes? Part 2

19...43,” he hesitated, his eyes dropping low with strong pain and confusion. He was hurting, but not mentally or physically, he was just hurting. The idea, the thought that… if he was in that particular year, in Europe, then… World War II. He was in the middle of World War II. But, then that would mean that the present times’ James Buchanan Barnes was there, depending on ‘where’ in Europe he was.

His eyes snapped wide open an on reflex he grabbed the wrists of the hands that reached out to him, instantly loosening the grip at seeing the woman crying in front of him, focused on him. He was panting harshly, his breath barely taking its’ time and he was panicked. A panic attack. James blinked rapidly and forced himself to ease up, twitchily releasing the hands and letting the woman hesitantly reach again, her cold, dry hands delicately resting on both sides of his jaw with her thumbs being the only skin contact above the balaclava he wore. He forced his breathing to slow, keeping his eyes firmly focused on her as he spoke fast in German. The soldier barely had time to take in her words as he tried to drop his fear, confusion and mild rage at his stupid situation. Though he was sure there had been a ‘calm’ and ‘deep breathes’ said in a shaken tone. Without her needing to even say it, he tried. It impressed him that she had even attempted trying to calm a man that killed another right in front of her. She was something else and he was grateful for the effort.

“Thank you,” James spoke in her tongue, giving a small, single nod as if to acknowledge her. He reached his hands up, resting the gloved flesh palm over hers and being reluctant to touch her with the other. He simply used his two first fingers to carefully remove her hand from his face. He lowered them, giving another nod before taking a last deep breath and turning to glance at the body he disarmed completely.

He needed to pull himself together, there were more men around and they needed to be taken out. He’d make this his mission and try to ignore the fact that he may have time travelled. Though he still had solid doubt about this. And he wouldn’t admit that if it was, he was in complete denial until he saw himself. Which he highly hoped he wouldn’t. If he met himself, what kind of trauma would that bring? He'd be unstable, for sure. If he saw his face from before Hydra, it could really screw him up mentally and that would be bad for everyone. Would it trigger him? How would he react? There were so many questions starting to fill his head.

He couldn't think about it. James pushed the thought and questions to the back of his mind, wanting to get this over with and quietly cleared his throat and easily turned to lift the body by its’ upper torso, his hands slipping under its biceps before standing and walking in a half circle to drag the body to the back of the house, gracelessly dropping it in the empty doorway of the cleaning cupboard. It was out of the way of the door, which he surveyed quickly before bolting the lock and returning to the living room where a gradually calming, but hesitant couple sat against the back of the sofa, huddled low and out of sight of the windows.

James also crept low as he re-entered the room, peeking over to the windows to glance out. Luckily, there weren’t many there, half a troop maybe? Barely passing double digits. From what he could see, there was precisely nine insight, maybe a few out of his view, so all in all, there may have been up to over twenty in his area of the town. He’d have to watch carefully for more. This wasn’t an overly large town, but if he was spotted, he was sure more would come to aid the Germans. Meaning he’d have to fight in the open. He’d rather be a ghost at this current moment, and that idea seemed to work perfectly in the current time. It was dark, passed from day to night and this was perfect for what he had planning. Stealth was his forte, his renowned skill. He was trained for this.

“Stay,” James ordered slightly in the native language, aiming a firm glance at them and getting frantic nods in return. He gave only one back and turned the corner of the couch, crouching his way to the front door. “Lock the door behind me,” was his next order and he heard light shifting behind him. The man came up to his side, seeming fearful and shaken. He swallowed thickly and the soldier reached up, grabbing the handle and easing it open with a very faint ‘click’. He gradually tugged it open and he slipped out into the dark, his raided weapons at the ready. James glanced both ways before darting out towards the gap between two houses across the narrow street, hearing the tiny ‘clicks’ of the door closing and locking behind him. Once hidden he glanced back over, to make sure that his order was obeyed and then saw that it was closed.

He let a silent breath pass his lips, feeling the heat of it gather in his soft mask. He eased his way down between the narrow walls and crouched low, lessening the chances of being caught. James slipped the gun further over his shoulders, making so it would barely move and make a sound, he grabbed one of the two hunting knives and held it tight in his right hand, his grip punishing. He could take this town out in a matter of minutes, easily killing these men with gunfire, but stealth seemed like the better option if there were more civilians alive. Hopefully, the elderly couple weren’t the only ones left breathing. He needed the chance to save these townspeople and doing his job quietly would heighten the possibility.

The soldier reached the other end of the lane-way, already seeing a few men there with wide gaps between them, three easy targets. And one of them didn’t even seem to be paying attention at all. His stance portrayed boredom. They either felt like they were wasting their time there or they were just stupid and didn't think that there was anything worth being alert for in the area. Inexperienced? More than likely.

The man took another quiet breath, easing the tension in his shoulders before peeking out around the corners and glancing for more men. Once he deemed it clear, he gradually edged out, a knife in hand as he closed in. He swiftly slung his left arm around the first, silencing him by easily snapping his neck with faint, sickening ‘crack’. He threw the knife at the next man turning his way in shock, the end piercing through his skull and he quickly darted forward, grabbing the hunting blade and sprinting for the one that had been paying the less attention, holding the knife as he stabbed it through the upper side of his throat.

The first few, swift, subtle and undetectable. He’d dragged the three back to the lane, quickly and quietly pulling each one back to his little hiding place and leaving them there to continue his stealthy takedowns. He continuously used the shadows to his advantage, keeping out of sight.

----------

By early dawn, around four or five in the morning, he was hunched low near the couples house, switching between each home that he’d deduced had people in. James had a patrol and would skulk his way around the small town, keeping vigilant for more Germans. After taking out the last, there were none left in the area. He’d rounded the bodies up and dumped them in a large pile near the barn-like shed, close to the cornfield, which was thankful, out of sight of the roads if more men did decide to appear.

He let a tired sigh leave his lips and he stood, keeping his senses sharp as he crossed the street casually, walking tensely towards the building while pocketing his knife and trying to seem harmless again, even with the mild blood splattering his gear and some skin. He’d hoped that maybe they’d allow him to borrow a shower or bath, to wash it off before leaving. The drizzling rain didn’t seem to wash it off.

James reached out his fist and gently rapped on the wooden door, not having to wait long to see the faintest of movement and the curtain being drawn an inch or so to see an eye peeking out. And within seconds, the door was thrown open and the man was standing there in shock and a curve suddenly grew on his lips. He seemed happy that he was back and with no German soldier in sight. This meant that killing them was the right thing to do. And it would be even right-er if this date was, indeed, 1943. The Nazi were in the wrong.

“Come, come!” the man ushered him inside, a hand carefully reaching up to rest against his upper back to move him faster. The door was closed behind him and re-locked as he was walked across the room towards another back room, through a door to an almost empty, small area. There was a large, long metal bath near the wall, a fire heater below keeping the water hot with steam floating above. The woman was kneeling next to it, messing with the warmth-gauge, as if sorting to a perfect temperature. She quickly looked up at the sound of them entering and she gave him a wary smile, somewhat crooked. Maybe she wasn’t as happy about the idea of him being in their house as the man was. Maybe this was his idea and she was just going along because he saved them. He wouldn’t be that surprised, if so.

James watched as she stood and wiped her hands in her long skirt, seeming to dry them before smiling again and walking past him and out of the room. His theory was just being proved now.

He felt a gentle push at his back and stepped further into the room, the door half closing behind him as he strode closer to the metal tub. He stared at the heated water before turning to glance over his shoulder at the man, watching as he rifled through the drawers in the corner, pulling out a towel and placing it next to the clothes he hadn’t registered were there before. They must’ve guessed his size or gathered a load of old clothes that used to fit the man, assuming that James wouldn’t be any bigger than what the man used to be.

“Get in,” the man urged after noticing the lack of movement, eyeing him a little warily as he just stood there. “My wife won’t let you sleep on the couch or have breakfast with us if you stay like that,” he joked with a light smile, gesturing to his gear and the blood dripping slightly. The man was right and he felt a mass of relief at his words that he’d be able to rest and have a meal, and there were clothes out for him to change into. It was more than he’d expected and he was incredibly grateful. He’d have to thank the woman once he was cleaned up.

James gave the man a slow nod before he started unclipping and unbuttoning his stupidly designed jacket, the zip behind the buttons slipping down easily before he peeled it from the skin of his arm and slid out of it, the sleeveless side practically falling off first. He dropped it at his boots and went about taking them off next, hating out the drying blood seemed to turn into a type of glue after several hours. The redness cracked while he unlaced his boots and dropped them off as well, moving to his shirt and then feeling reluctant at the knowledge of another in a room. He was aware that it shouldn’t bother him, having walked around without shirts on in multiple HYDRA bases. They’d seen the scars and wounds and where the metal met skin, but… he was in a civilian home with a nice couple and he was afraid that he’d scare them more than he had already. This would surely shock the man if anything.

He took a shaky breath and hesitantly reached for the hem of his dark vest, pulling it up and over his body, his torso showing more and more skin was revealed. There was a stifled gasp when it was pulled up to his shoulders and then over his head.

James didn’t dare turn to look at him, afraid of the expression he’d see. He hated the look of fear, and even more… he despised pity and sorrow ‘for’ him.

Instead, he reached for his trousers, unlacing the belt before unbuttoning the button fly and dropping his underwear with the combat pants. He stepped out of his clothes and then reached up to the mask, forgetting that he’d still been wearing it. He slipped it up over his head and dropped it as well before stepping closer to the tub and then gracefully climbing it.

The tension instantly evaporated in the water that uncased him and warmed him. He gradually leaned back and started to relax, feeling everything just sudden drain and he even closed his eyes and took warm, easy breathes. He was vaguely aware that the man had returned to whatever he’d been doing, shifting things, grabbing others. Glancing over tiredly had shown that he’d grabbed the necessities needed to clean oneself, a brush, rag, towel, a razor, scissors if he needed his hair shortened. He wouldn’t use it. He was content with its current length and it was needed if he was in 1943. Shortened hair would be his downfall if he ran into the 107th. He’d be found easily. With longer hair, they’d need a second glance, and by that glance, he could’ve disappeared.

“The sofa should be ready by the time you leave the bath,” the man said, catching his attention. He watched as he gave a wary smile and then turned to leave, closing the door behind him.

James was incredibly grateful for this, he was content for once. He hadn’t felt this calm in a long time. He’d realized that he wasn’t being chased, wasn’t being controlled. He’d saved the remains of a town and was rewarded with a hot, much-needed bath and he was allowed to rest and relax for the first time in a long time. This felt simple to him and it was nice. He hoped that it would be just as simple when he returned to Steve… ‘if’ he returned to Steve. He would check in on him if he could, and then be on his way. He didn’t seem like a wanted man here, that was a sure thing.

Once James was well rested, he’d see if anyone needed any help, maybe bury the bodies and burn the German soldiers in a pit, cover their corpses and get rid of the scent of death. He’d like to pull more of his weight after being rewarded with a bath and a pillow to lie on.

He gave a warm sigh and sank further into the water, his hair slipping in and getting soaked as he dank his head under and letting the water cover him completely for a moment before resurfacing and threading his metal hand through his drenched hair. Just looking down at the surface brought a furrow to his brow-line, seeing the remnants of red fading in the water, the blood dispersing and spreading, fading until there was only clear again. Glancing at his metal arm, he saw the watered down pinkish tint of soaked blood, gradually dripping and fading from the metal. The blood was the only constant thing in his life, and just thinking about it gave him a grim image, the Winter Soldier, the suit he wore, the blood covered gear and metal and the mask. It wasn’t a nice thing to see and he quickly dunked himself back under the water, his hands gradually ghosting over his skin and arm to get the blood off of him.

He wasn’t that man anymore, not the Winter Soldier, nor Bucky Barnes of the 107th, Steve Rogers’ best friend and Sergeant of the Howling Commandos. He was none of those. Just James...

… he may need to change that if he really was in 1943, and ran into the platoon, which he doubted would happen, but if it did then… having the same face and name as the Sergeant would seem more than a little coincidental.

Jamie, Jimmy, Jefferson, Jack… he’d have to think on that one. He could easily just use Barnes as his last name, maybe pass himself off as a relative or twin that was separated years ago. And he could easily play dumb at seeing the man if they had a run-in. Act surprised, shocked. Maybe he could wear his balaclava and avoid confrontation altogether. Seemed simpler.

He’d have to ask the couple of ‘where’ they were in 1943 to be sure that there wasn’t a run-in. James was more than sure that seeing his own face at this point would be bad. He was still unstable that'd only make him more so and he was fine without any more identity issues. He had so many already and if he'd run into himself, it'd only add to it. He could barely remember how he used to be in this timeline. How he used to act around people, specific people as well as ordinary and the German's. How was he meant to handle seeing himself? How would he process it?

[shadowreader23]

Time Travel Barnes? (Part 1)

The soldier sputtered and coughed, gasping deeply and painfully and feeling his chest contract and expand. He felt cold from landing in the freezing, muddy water below and it only made him feel worse than he'd already felt.

He coughed again, trying to push himself onto his side so he could lift his heavy, tired body. He was hurt, aching and exhausted from the fight, now weaponless. Apparently, forcing them to fight against each other wasn't the only plan Zemo had. The little man had caught him when his guard had dropped for a fraction of a second and he was hit with something. A glowing rock or whatever. A stone with a shine to it. It was thrown at him and he was suddenly forced down to his knees, yelling and screaming around him and from him and he was being propelled through the air.

And from the looks of it, this wasn't the building he was just in. Instead, he was surrounded by trees and grass and muddy puddles. It was raining, a heavy downpour completely soaking him from head to boot. James coughed a few more times as he managed to get up into a crouch, his hair instantly plastered itself to his face and neck and obscuring his vision until he snapped his head around at the sound of gunfire. He was, thankfully, still crouched on his knees, so he wasn't seen. The sounds of battle weren't that far away, but it wasn't close either.

His first priority was to find out where he was and then he could leave and find his way back to Steve and the team. And... he also needed to find a thick jacket, for warmth and to cover his arm. He'd doubt that anyone would speak to him if they saw the weapon just hanging there like some everyday limb. It would frighten them and they’d turn him away or even run. And he didn’t want that.

James eyed the area, scrutinizing and scanning each and everything he saw. His guard was going to be above high now that he knew he could be surprised by a weaponless man. He’d rather not take any chances at this point. And it didn’t help the fact that he was thrown and was now lost in god knows where.

He was drawn back by the continuous sounds of guns and explosions, grabbing his attention and causing him to wince from an oncoming headache. Not a headache from the noise, but one from a forewarning of a memory, something that was trying to break through his mental wall. He’d had a few of war, especially from his, supposed, time as a Howling Commando. WWII had resurfaced a few times, but they hadn’t lasted long, only a few memories, images. Gunfire, explosions, men calling out the name ‘Serg, Barnes, Bucky, or even Jimmy’ when they needed his attention.

He almost jerked in surprise at the deafening boom landing about a mile away, shaking the ground beneath his feet and forcing him to drop his head in instinctual defence. He tried to calm his breathing in that position, his heartbeat having started racing at the sounds and yells in the background.

At least he now had an idea on which way he was going to go. And that was not in the directions of firing guns and detonating bombs and missiles. He’d rather head away from all of that if it were an option.

James glanced over his shoulder at the mass of trees and overgrowth before turning back and cautiously standing, keeping his senses sharp as he started walking away from where he’d heard the battle. He must’ve been near a war currently going on in another country. That didn’t bode too well for his chances of seeing the team soon and being able to get them out of the cell Steve had mentioned. Apparently Stark was a massive talker when drunk and that little info had slipped. A cell-base for the Avengers and anyone of the like.

He was visually scouting ahead and to his sides when he felt his nervous twitch pick up, a familiar feeling hitting his chest. It felt sadly odd to him, a familiar feeling that he shouldn’t be able to place. And yet, he could.

From what he could tell, from the close battle. He was near the front-lines of a war, something he knew and had felt before he’d been HYDRAs’ puppet. It gave him a sad feeling, a sad nostalgic tug at his heart and emotions. The wars he’d supposedly been in so many years ago.

And it may have been him, but he didn’t feel like it. He didn’t feel like that man after these last seventy years.

The Sergeant of the Howling Commandos, that led one of the best teams through the front-lines of war. It was simpler and easier than anything he’d been through already. He’d had memories, nightmares, images, but not many. They all brought him back to the 1940s’, where life seemed like it was at its worst. The depression, the loss, the constant war between them and the Nazi.

But it turned out that there were far worse things to go through… and he’d been through that already.

He sighed deeply while keeping an ear out on his 6, but he didn't hear much. Just the forestry and bulks of gunfire, explosions and yelling miles and miles away from him. Where the military men were fighting and trying to win for more than just their own sake and freedom.

James easily and gracefully vaulted over a low fence, landing quietly in another muddy puddle before continuing to walk in a random direction, hoping to get to a town as soon as possible. It wasn’t dark, not yet, but it was getting there. The sun was already obscured by mountains and trees, not by the ones he was walking through, but the ones further away, in the opposite direction to where he was going. He’d rather not run around in the dark because if he was to come across a camp, he may be mistaken for the enemy and either be shot or taken in for questioning, probably shot if they took in his dangerous appearance, excluding his arm.

If he couldn’t find a town by nightfall, then he’d have to find shelter before it got too dark and that was when patrol usually increased. It wasn't that he remembered this. It was common sense to someone that had been on constant missions with the STRIKE team and knew more than a lot about military tactics.

James let out a deep yelp as he stood on a strange loose piece of wet mud and grass, slipping and sliding on his ass and into a massive, human-sized hole.

And another military tactic… was foxholes…

“Son of a bitch,” he panted after getting over the initial stun of the trip. His heart had metaphorically leapt into his throat and he could feel his blood pumping from the minor surprise. He’d actually forgotten about these. He and the STRIKE team rarely used them when he was apart of HYDRA, and by ‘rarely’ he meant hardly ever. He was covered in more dirt and grime, looking himself over to see the extent and it was like he took a bath in mud.

He was still a little breathless as he slowly pushed himself to sit up, lifting his head high and taking in deep breathes to calm himself. It just made it easier for the rain to pour over his face, drenching even more than before, if it were possible.

The soldier let out another deep huff before managing to push himself to stand, mud and sopping wet dirt either dropping from him or sticking to his black, combat trousers. He was covered in it at this point, from his fall earlier and now. He could only see a few large patches of black and that was only because he wiped some of the dirt.

“This way? ” James instantly snapped to attention, catching the… German voices. German, was he in Europe? He frowned, quickly and swiftly climbed out of the hole with trained silence, moving quickly through the overgrowth until he was a good way away from the foxhole and hidden behind a thicket of trees. He needed to be fast, agile and noiseless now. If there were voices nearby, that may mean that there’s a small troop, half a platoon maybe. He couldn’t risk staying, either way.

So, he didn’t wait around. As soon as he started hearing footsteps, multiple of them, maybe three sets, he gradually took off in the other direction. He was basically doing an ‘L’ shape from where he started. But at least he wasn’t heading anywhere near the explosions and gunfire. The area he was currently in must’ve been a cleared area, or the battle hadn’t gotten this far yet.

He darted around trees and shrubbery, being as fast and efficient as he was in missions. He stayed low and out of sight and gradually started to jog through the forest, feeling confident enough that he was out of eye-line and hearing range.

James slowed when he seemed to come to a clearing, massive and open, with a wide, empty and wet mud covered road crossing a path in front of the forest-line. There was a cornfield on the other side, a large shed on the other side of that and there was a town just off from the farm-like scene. He didn’t have a jacket, so he’d rather not speak with anyone yet. Maybe he could ask the farm owner? Or steal one… He’d rather not, but if it meant he’d warmer and his arm would be covered, then it was a necessity.

The soldier crouched as he got closer to the tree-line, looking both ways cautiously through the heavy rain. Everything had a foggy tint to it, the mist was thick and the rain was thick, splashing up after hitting the ground. His entire suit was heavy and pulling him down. If possible, he’d ask for borrowed clothes if it meant he could dry his tactical gear.

After a few moments of nothing he gradually moved to stand, still watching both ways before quickly darting across the road and over vaulting over the fence, landing gracefully and without fault. He started back into a jog as he made his way towards the cornfield, ducking a little once he hit the first line of them, to avoid a faceful. It was getting a little too dark now, the sun completely went over the mountains. There was minimal light now and he could only just see what was ahead of him as he trotted through the corn. It wasn’t a big field, maybe two yards? A yard and a half? He’d imagine it was the latter since he could already see the other end and shed coming closer.

James skipped a few times during the jog, his boots getting caught in the overly wet dirt and catching his balance off. It was irritating, but the thought that he might get himself some shelter purged that feeling. He wanted and needed somewhere to take a break and catch his breath. There was no way he had any kind of advantage for wherever he was and that unsettled him.

He darted out of the field, panting slightly before suddenly darting behind a close building. There was noise, voices, machinery.

“Take them and kill them, the house,” more German. At least he figured that he must’ve been in Europe somewhere. It made it easier to think about how to get back. Though, he couldn’t pinpoint where the war was. There hadn’t been anything going on with Germany for years now. He didn’t recall any recent war going on that was this big.

James leaned close to the corner, peeking around to see a few men in uniform, very familiar uniform. They were dressed in dark colours, swastika patches on red fabric around their arms. This was a very real re-enactment of WWII and he was suddenly feeling lost, in his own mind at just seeing the uniform and now taking in the voices and language. It was like a sudden spark lit painfully on his insides. He didn’t like this at all.

The soldier snuck further around back and crouched his way into the very well groomed garden with flowers and perfect beauty, clearly, a woman had her way with it. He reached the back door and grabbed the handle, being as quiet as ever as he opened it and snuck in, closing it silently behind him. He could suddenly hear cries, from a woman and fun, raspy voices of old age having caught up and he frowned before lowering himself into a deeper crouch. He shifted through the hall and stopped at the corner, peeking once again and hearing the aggressive orders of a soldier in the house. And then he saw him, angry and pointing his, what looked like, an old MP-40 at two civilians. Where did they manage to get an old German weapon like that?

He internally shook his head to rid himself of the thought and took a silent breath before launching out at the man, swinging his left arm and backhanding the man across the face with his metal fist. He saw blood spray from his mouth and then he ducked, his arm pulling back and he punched forward, straight into his sternum. James then swiftly circled the German and locked the metal forearm against his throat, using the only weapon he had to his advantage. He could still hear the cries in the background, from the seemingly old couple, huddled against the wall, the woman with her head hidden behind the man and the male was watching on in what seemed like terror, eyes wide and filled with fear.

James returned to the choking man, hearing the rasps and gasps of lost breathe as it left him. There was no yelling or audible sounds from him, only the choking and the feeling of his body getting heavy against him. Finally, after some time, he took a final intake of air and dropped against him, the weight forcing James to steady his stance. He gradually lowered the body and himself, taking a quick glance at the two still against the wall. The woman was sobbing into the man's shoulder and the was still staring. He slowly lifted a finger to his mask and made a gesture to keep quiet, the old male instantly giving a rapid nod, stroking the females’ head and hair

The soldier turned back to the body and quickly began raiding it, slipping the MP-40 over his shoulder. A P38 pistol was strapped to his waist, along with two types of hunting knives and three ‘MB’ grenades, small spheres that were highly explosive. All of these weapons were… they pre-dated the 21st century. They were all based on the War in the 1940s’, WWII to be specific.

Either this was very real Role-playing, or this was the war, and by the reactions and expression of the couple in the room… this wasn’t a game. But… that couldn’t be. It was impossible, preposterous nonsense that still hadn’t been reached in their science and technology yet. It was beyond what they had.

“What year is it…” he still questioned out of the need for an answer and confirmation that this was an idiotic thought because it was. The soldier turned to gaze at him, trying to seem less dangerous so he’d answer. He still seemed understandably hesitant and reluctant, but he opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water, a few stutters of words and letters, and then-

“1943,” he gasped with a German accent, still afraid and more than a little wary with a hint of confusion. James’ eyes widened, his heart beating faster and his blood pumping could be heard in his skull. He felt sick, nauseous with his stomach churning.

Part 2 anyone?

[shadowreader23]

Ugly

Anyone else ever have the issue where things just go wrong. Im younger than all of my froends yet in photos i look like the oldest one there i look twice my age so ive dieted and started excercise. Gym 3 times a week fruit and veg everyday halfed my sugar intake. Lost 28 lbs in a year. Yet i still look awful. I hate wvwything about me and have no clue how to fix it. I think filler and fat freezing woukd help but scared of my family noticing. Any advice? Can attach a photo of myself if people want. Its got to the point i cant look at myself in the mirror and think about it constsntly i dont go out anymore and when i do i wear a mask.

[shadowreader23]

Jason Todds Revenge (prolouge)

"Are you sure?" Talia asked him for what felt like the millionth time as he packed his bag to leave

"Im sure Tals just you wait. Bruce is all to prepared for a physical confrontstion hes prepared for that but a mental one? He'll have no idea what hit him.

"Me and Damian will join you as soon as possible i need to make sure my father wont follow us. Thank you for everything you'vr done for me you'vegrown into someone im proud to call my son" Talia said honestly she had been going down a dark path without even realizing it. Jason had helped pull her bacl to the light and she couldn't be mpre greatful.

"Take care of yourself T, Call me if you need anything" He said closing his bag and leaving the room. He had a plane to catch and a plan to get revenge. B wouldnt know what hit him until it was too late. ________ Gotham was exactly the way he remembered it. Some things never changed. The first thing he did was set ip several hideouts for himswlf across the city and refamillarise himself with his surroundings. He did so by walkimg through the pouring rain of gothams streets. Some things Never change. ----------------- "I have to go to this confetence Dick. Bruce Wayne is expected to be there" Bruce wayne said walking to the civillan garage and selecting a car that would be worthy of being 'Brucie Waynes' transport for the night. He settled on the silver mercedes and got into the drivers seat only to hit his head on the top of the inside of the car. Dick couldnt help it he burst out laughing especially when bruce started to scowl last time hed used this car there had been a small space between his head and the top of the car so why wasbt there now? The seat appeared to be in the exact same position. As he drove his car to the event he could tell something else wasnt right but couldnt quite put his finger on it there was something different about the car but nothing obvious had it been because he hadnt used it for a while? Pulling into the event he parked only to clip his elbow on the wingmirror as he walked away from the car. What was wrong with him today? Maybe Alfred was right. It was time he got a full nights rest especially if it was affecting his preformance like this.... he walked into the event deep in thought while a figure several roofs away watched the incident with his binoculars. Bruce wayne was going to have 99 problems and Jason was going to be responsible for all of them.

(This is just the prolouge what do you think should i keep writing it? Sorry for any spelling errors im typing this on my phone that doesnt have spellcheck)