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sjsmith56 · 4 months

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Faces of Bucky Barnes

Summary: One shot of an interaction with the multiverse that affects Bucky Barnes during a tough time in his life.

Length: 7.4 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes from 2024, Bucky Barnes from 1938, Jim Barnes (son of another AU Bucky from 1971), Bucky Barnes from 1998 (AU).

Warnings: some references to drug use, domestic abuse, alcohol abuse, and suicide but it’s not really a dark fic.

Author notes: Set at the same time as Spider-Man: No Way Home but only connected in a roundabout way. Also slightly connected to What If? Season 2, Episode 2, What If? ... Peter Quill Attacked Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Images in the banner were created by the author using the Microsoft Copilot App in Designer mode.

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It was Bucky's favourite place to go when he needed to get out of his head for a while. A rooftop on an empty warehouse that overlooked an approach to the Brooklyn Bridge was the perfect location to sit at night and see the bridge that he had grown up with all those years ago, before the war, before HYDRA, before the Avengers. Before everything became fucked up again.

This time, it was Alexander Ross who set in motion the latest attempt to rope Bucky into doing something he didn't want to do. The man just wouldn't take no for an answer.

"You served your country before, then you served HYDRA. I'm just asking you to serve your country again. Then we'll call it even."

Those were his exact words. As if Bucky's service in World War II wasn't enough, all by itself. As if fighting Thanos twice and containing the Flag Smashers also wasn't enough. Why couldn't Bucky just be left alone to do what he wanted? Why couldn't he tinker with old cars and motorcycles, keeping them in good repair for enthusiasts who still appreciated how things were made before. The sound of a siren on the bridge caught his attention and he focused on a police car in pursuit of someone. That part was still very much the same now as it had been then, even though the subway cars and vehicles crossing the bridge looked different. There were always going to be people who lived on the wrong side of the law and those who would hunt them down.

Why did Ross think it should be him doing the hunting? The man wouldn't even say who it was he wanted Bucky to hunt down but deep down the super soldier knew that Ross saw a lot of good people as enemies and that's what bothered him the most. For all he knew Ross wanted Bucky to go after Sam, or even Peter Parker, and that would never happen.

Peter Parker, that kid was facing problems just as bad as Bucky had it. He just couldn't seem to catch a break. Why couldn't they leave him alone as well? Let him go to college, marry his girlfriend, have a family. He was a good kid, and a smart one. But no, certain segments of society were out to pigeon-hole him as a threat.

"Stop," he said out loud. "Breathe. Peter will be okay. You can tell Ross no and you'll be okay. Life will go on."

A sound of a portal opening behind him made him shake his head. How did the sorcerers always find him? He turned around to see if it was Dr. Strange or Wong, but he didn't expect to see what he saw there and stood up, facing the young man, with his face, his much younger face, dressed in a brown suit.

"What just happened?" The younger version asked, his face a mask of surprise. "I'm in Brooklyn, cuz that's the Brooklyn Bridge so that must be Manhattan but it ain't nothin' like the New York I know. Who are you?"

His Brooklyn accent was strong, much stronger than Bucky's accent of 2024. He studied the current version carefully, lingering on his eyes, recognizing him. Approaching him where he stood near the edge, he looked up at him, puzzled that this older man with his face was taller.

"Are you me?"

Fuck it. The guy just walked through a portal from the 1930s based on that suit that Bucky remembered wearing then.

"James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10, 1917, is the day I was born, in Indiana," replied Bucky. "Moved here when I was a little kid. You?"

"Same," he replied. "You're older and taller than me and dressed different. What year is it?"

Older Bucky smiled a little. He read a lot of science and fantasy fiction when he was younger so the thought of it being a different year obviously came easily to his other self.

"2024, and before you say that makes me 107 years old, yes, I am that, technically. But there's a reason I'm still alive and I'm not sure I'm supposed to tell you. What I can do is phone someone to get you back home."

The younger Bucky smirked. "Hate to break it to you, pal, but there ain't a pay phone up here."

It was older Bucky's turn to smirk as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled Dr. Strange. His smirk turned to a frown as the call went to voice mail.

"Hey, Strange, it's Bucky Barnes," he said into the phone. God, he hated voice mail. "I'm talking to a version of myself from ...." He looked at his younger self. "What year exactly are you from?"

"1938, was headed out for my 21st birthday party. Supposed to pick up Steve then meet Dot and a bunch of friends at a dance hall in Rockaway Beach."

Fuck, he was such a punk then. "The younger version of me says he's from 1938. Are you messing around with the multiverse again? Call me back, or better yet, get over here. I'll keep my phone on so you can locate it."

He hung up then noticed his younger self looking curiously at it.

"It's called a cell phone. There aren't many pay phones these days as nearly everyone has their own personal phone, even homeless people. It's used for more than that. You can pull up maps, watch movies, television shows, play games, even pay for things."

He shrugged. The younger man looked back at the Manhattan skyline, his eyes taking it all in.

"I can still see the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building," he said, "but look at the height on some of those others. People live in those?"

"Most are office buildings," replied older Bucky. He sighed. "Not sure what's going on as you shouldn't be here. The guy I phoned is a sorcerer acquaintance. He should be getting back to me."

"Sorcerer? Seriously? They're around in the future?"

"They were around in the past," said older Bucky, "but more hidden and secretive. The ones now have had to be more visible because of ... stuff."

The sound of another portal behind them had them both turning to the source. Young Bucky's face transformed into something incredulous as the telltale sparkle of light appeared and grew larger, except it wasn't a sorcerer who came through. It was another version of Bucky, definitely from the multiverse because he was young, but he looked like he came from the 1960s or 1970s, as he had long hair, a Fu Manchu moustache and wore bell bottom jeans and a jean jacket. He came through, watching the sparkling circle close then noticed the others standing there.

"Far out," he said, as the portal closed behind him. "That was some trip." He noticed the 1930s version of himself. "Cool threads, man. Got a 1930s vibe going there." He looked closer at the two of them. "Weird. You look like me, except you're older and you're younger. Dude, what's happening?"

"Did you understand that?" asked 1938 Bucky.

"Some of it," said original modern Bucky. "Not sure what's going on, but I think you two appeared here from your original universes. What year was it before you came through the portal?"

"1971," replied the long-haired version. "I smoked up a little while ago, thought maybe I was hallucinating. This is real? What year?"

"2024," answered 1938 Bucky as he glanced at original Bucky. "He smells of reefer."

"Reefer." The long-haired man laughed. "They haven't called it that since the 1940s. What do they call it now?"

"Weed, mostly or cannabis," said original Bucky, sighing. "Can't believe I'm having this conversation. It's legal now, at least in New York, so they refer to it by brand names as well."

"No shit!" The long-haired man laughed again. "Like, you can buy it in a store?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Bucky dialled Dr. Strange again, getting another voice mail prompt which made him hang up. This was definitely a multiverse thing but the fact there was a version of him that was born after the war meant he wasn't just in his original time frame. He was in different ones as well. Unless ... this guy was his kid.

"What's your name, when were you born and who were your parents?" he asked. "Sorry, just trying to keep things straight."

"Jim Barnes, Jr., born in 1950," said the long hair version. "My dad was James Buchanan Barnes, Sr., and my mother was Dolores Barnes. They split up when I was about 10.

Fuck, this guy was his kid. 1938 Bucky glanced at him, obviously thinking the same thing, as he mouthed Dolores' nickname, Dot.

"Why did they split up?"

"My dad was never right after the war," said Jim. "Lost his best friend in 1945 when he fell off a train during a mission. Tried to drink himself to death but never seemed to get there. He could out drink anyone, so he just got angry and eventually it got too dangerous for us to be around him. Us three kids stayed with Mom." He shrugged. "Not sure I'll be seeing any of them any time soon. I decided to go to Canada when I got my draft notice. It's just a matter of when."

Modern Bucky felt his stomach do a flip. Steve must have fallen off the train in this man's timeline, an event that obviously affected him deeply. This son of his was 21, in 1971. It meant he likely was drafted into the Vietnam War and didn't want to go. He glanced at the 1938 version of himself, who was frowning at this revelation.

"It was because of a war in Southeast Asia," Bucky murmured. "By all accounts it wasn't supported too well by the population. Some burned their draft cards and went to Canada. Stayed there, too." He looked at Jim sympathetically. "Can I ask you something? Are you strong? Like really strong? Can you handle your alcohol well?"

"Yeah," said the younger man suspiciously. "Takes a lot to get me buzzed. Sometimes, it's not worth the trouble." He frowned. "I'm not a coward. I am strong but I don't want to fight anyone. It's a bogus war, man. Rich boys can get deferments or get into the Coast Guard or the National Guard and not have to go over but even they've been involved in some killings. The killing of those four students in Ohio last year was the last straw for me. I'm not firing against American citizens."

His dad obviously never told anyone about what HYDRA did to him and he passed on his abilities to his kids. No wonder he was trying to drink himself to death. The guilt over Steve's death ... wait, if Steve fell, did he become.... He shook his head, clearing that thought.

"Your dad, is he still alive?"

Jim swallowed, looked at the Brooklyn Bridge with obvious pain then back at Bucky.

"No, he put a bullet in his head a couple of years ago, after my older brother Steve came back from Vietnam missing an arm. That's another reason I'm not going. If anything happened to me, it would kill my mom and as fucked up as I am, I do love her. I love Steve and Rebecca as well."

Bucky placed his hand on Jim's shoulder, patting it sympathetically. The sound of another portal drew all of their attention as the circle formed. What stepped out shocked Bucky, as this version of him wore a uniform that was obviously his universe's version of Captain America, complete with a dull silver-coloured prosthetic arm. His hair, longer than Bucky's but shorter than Jim's was clean and somewhat styled. He looked startled at the 1938 version of Bucky, then puzzled at Jim Barnes. Finally, he noticed modern Bucky, specifically the metal hand and approached him.

"What year?" he asked, gesturing to the skyline.

"2024," replied modern Bucky. "I've been out of HYDRA for ten years. You?"

"1998. I was sent to be Russia's contribution to a threat to the world in 1988 and escaped but I ended up in a car accident a couple of years later. Went into a coma. When I woke up it was 1994 and my old arm was gone but Tony Stark made me a new one. Somehow the damage that put me into a coma neutralized the trigger words. Peggy Carter asked me to be Captain America for the Avengers. What else was I going to do?" He shook his head then looked at the two younger men as they stood gazing at the Manhattan skyline, so different from what they were used to. "I take it these two are other versions of ourselves."

"Not exactly," said Bucky, gesturing to the 1938 version. "He's an original. The other one is our son. In his universe, Steve fell off the train and we tried to drink ourselves to death, never telling anyone what we were or accepting it."

"Shit, does he have ...?"

Modern Bucky nodded. "We should tell him, as it appears he's self-medicating a lot, unsuccessfully. Mind you it's 1971 in his world and he's just made the decision to be a draft dodger." He hesitated for a moment. "My words are gone as well, courtesy of a brilliant scientist. She designed this arm for me. You should know that Steve is alive."

"What? They said he was lost in a plane crash in 1945."

"Frozen in the ice. In this universe, they find him in 2011 and thaw him out. The serum kept him alive. He stayed here until last year then went back in time to be with Peggy. Cap in this time is another guy, Sam Wilson. He has wings."

"They didn't ask you?"

Bucky shrugged, then looked over to the Brooklyn Bridge. "Too messed up in my own head. I killed a lot, including Howard and his wife, in my timeline. I remember them all."

"I'm sorry." Cap Bucky placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You are a good man. I killed a lot for HYDRA as well, but Peggy never held that against me. Neither do the other Avengers. I guess Howard died of cancer when I was in a coma. What you do in the here and now is what should define you. Easier said, I know, but still true." He took a breath. "So, what are we going to do? Sit here and wait for a sorcerer to appear? I could use something to eat."

Bucky looked at the others. "You guys hungry? I don't live too far. We could pick up some takeout and beer. I left a message for Dr. Strange. Once he checks his messages he should come and help get you back to where you belong."

"Food is good," said 1930s Bucky. "What's takeout?"

The other three smiled the same lopsided smile and Bucky gestured to follow him down a fire escape. They stopped at a Korean place that was still open, with the proprietor waving to Bucky from the kitchen, as he was a regular customer. He ordered several servings of everything, knowing that three of the four of them could easily finish it, choosing Korean fried chicken, beef and pork bulgogi, green onion cakes, japchae, bibimbap with rice, and kimchi. Although the staff gave the other three some second and third looks, they didn't say anything.

"This universe has seen some strange things, including aliens, androids and sorcerers," explained modern Bucky. "Seeing three other versions of me doesn't even come close to weird."

After dividing the food bags between them they made one more stop at a 24-hour liquor store with Bucky getting a couple of six packs of beer and a bottle of bourbon. They crammed into the elevator of his building.

"I only have a one-bedroom place," said Bucky. "Not much furniture but I'm good on the floor if you others want to take a chair. I'm living on an army pension so it's what I could afford."

When he handed off the food and booze to the others to unlock the door, he opened it and stepped back to let them in first. They filed in, dropping everything off on the small kitchen island.

"This is nice," said 1930s Bucky. "Clean, small but if it's just you it's enough. Nicer than that slum Steve is living in."

Both modern Bucky and Cap Bucky nodded, remembering that tenement room their best friend insisted on living in. Taking his meagre assortment of glasses out, Bucky poured out some bourbon in each one, holding his glass in front of him.

"Here's mud in your eye," he said, draining it in one gulp. "They've been kind enough to provide us four servings of rice, just take what you want from each of the other containers and dig in."

For the next few minutes there was no sound as they all went after the food, transferring portions into their individual rice boxes. Modern Bucky sat on the floor, leaning against the wall as the other three took the armchair, and the two dining table chairs that were there. Cap Bucky eyed the bedding on the floor.

"Sleeping there?"

"Yeah, bed's too soft," replied modern Bucky. "I manage a few hours every night."

Jim swallowed his food and looked critically at the two artificial arms. "What's with the arms?"

"Not sure I can tell you, exactly," said Cap Bucky. "Let's just say this Bucky and I have a shared experience where we lost our flesh arms, went through some shit, then got a new life and new arms in the process."

"Were you born in 1917 as well?" asked 1930s Bucky. "He already told me."

"Yeah, I was. Don't know if you'll go through what we went through. Jim's dad didn't, at least not the way we did."

"He had both of his original arms," said Jim. "But he was one angry guy. Ma said before the war he was a lot of fun but after ... he was a different man. She still loved him, but he hurt her and us, more than once."

"I would never hit a woman," stated 1930s Bucky. "Not Dot, I loved her."

The other two Bucky's looked meaningfully at each other. On a hunch, modern Bucky signed to Cap Bucky, who sat back and watched, nodding his head. He signed back, as the other two realized what they were doing.

"What can it hurt?" asked modern Bucky, verbally. "They've already seen two different versions of us, and how New York looks in the 21st century. Maybe, this Bucky is this guy's dad. If he understands what might happen, he can deal with it better, and I'm sure Jim would like to understand more of what his dad went through that made him the way he is. It can help him with his own timeline and whether he should go to Canada."

The bright blue eyes of Cap Bucky seemed to harden for a moment then they softened.

"Alright, we tell them both everything," he said. "We can't change our past but maybe we can change their futures."

For the rest of that night, the two Bucky's with prosthetic arms told their stories, amazing each other with the synchronization of their journeys until Cap Bucky's took a turn when he listened to Howard Stark and didn't kill a boy who only wanted to get back home to Earth. Both 1930s Bucky and Jim Barnes questioned them about details, about the things that they wished they had done. By sunrise, the 1930s Bucky had loosened his shirt and tie and was lying on top of the double bed in the bedroom. Jim Barnes had taken his boots and jacket off and was lying next to him curled up with his hand hanging over the edge. Cap and Modern Bucky still sat in the living room, leaning against the open wall, while finishing the bourbon.

"So, where exactly is Steve in 1998?" asked Cap.

"Buried in a glacier in the Arctic," said Bucky, reaching for one of his notebooks and tearing a sheet out. "Here's the coordinates." He watched as Cap looked at it, folded it up and placed inside a hidden pocket. "They were on a display in the Smithsonian. He's alive and they should be able to resuscitate him. I don't know if your universe will go through with what mine did but if it does, aliens start to show up in 2011, then Tony tries to make Ultron in 2014 to protect the Earth. Instead, Ultron went a little crazy and decided to kill humans. Aliens start looking for the stones ... that blue Tesseract is one of them ... and Thanos comes calling in 2018. If he does, remember to go for the head. Don't let him snap his fingers or else half of all life, everywhere, is just gone."

"What about you?" There was sympathy and understanding in Cap Bucky's eyes. "What's going on with you?"

"A powerful man wants me to work for him." Bucky looked at his metal hand. "By work, I think he means for me to hunt other enhanced individuals and bring them together so that he can control them. I don't want to do it but he's in a position to make my life miserable if I don't." He looked around at his little flat. "This isn't what I ever envisioned for myself. I'm 107 years old, living on an army pension that barely pays the bills, while waiting on the army to give me my back pay for all the years I was basically a prisoner of war. Half of society thinks I should have been shot for what I did as the Winter Soldier, and the other half are indifferent to my existence."

"You have friends though, right?" Modern Bucky felt his face get warm. "You don't think you're worthy of friendship, do you?" Cap sipped his bourbon, thoughtfully. "Obviously, I didn't kill as many people as you did when HYDRA, then Russia had me in their control, but the body count was still up there. I became a kind of vigilante when I first got away from them. I could hear calls for help and would get to people who were being assaulted. I hid myself a lot. Then, I got hit by an armoured truck and knocked out. Stayed that way for four years. When I woke up, Peggy Carter was sitting next to my bed. Tony showed up within the hour. A few of the Howlies showed up, old men all of them, but they were so happy to see me. None of them ever forgot about me and Peggy apologized for not looking for me, even though she suspected who the Winter Soldier was years later. I could have been angry, but the fact was that I could have also escaped sooner than I did. I just convinced myself that I was too far gone and not worth saving. I was wrong. Don't give up on life, Buck. If you don't want to do what this guy wants you to do, then don't do it. Call in your friends, tell the newspapers, expose his plans to the daylight. Fight for your right to have a life, to be just another face in the crowd."

"You make it sound easy." Bucky sighed. "I'm just tired of it. You know what I really want to do? Fix motorcycles and cars from the 1930s and 40s, find an understanding woman who doesn't mind listening to the old music with me, maybe dinner out or dancing once in a while, having a couple of kids and playing catch with them in the back yard. Getting old ... God, how I want to grow old." He rubbed his face. "Sounds pathetic."

"No, not at all," smiled Cap Bucky. "Sounds pretty perfect to me."

A portal began forming in Bucky's living room and both men stood up. Dr. Strange strode through.

"I got your message," he said, taking in Cap Bucky. "How many?"

"Three, although one of them isn't me. He's, my son."

Strange frowned. "Your son ... interesting. Well, get them out here and I'll send them back."

Modern Bucky went into the bedroom while Cap Bucky stayed out in the living room with Dr. Strange.

"Can you do me a favour?" he asked. "Is there any way you can make him appear like another face in the crowd?"

"That's what got me into this mess," said Strange. "A similar request from another person. You mean, no one would know who he is?"

"I mean, I think he would want to keep his friends because he doesn't have many and he shouldn't have to start at the beginning to find new ones." A crease appeared in Cap's forehead between his eyes. "All he wants is to live in peace, fix old vehicles, find the right woman and grow old. Is that too much to ask?"

Strange looked carefully at this version of Bucky, noticing the uniform. He had obviously come to terms with his own past if he was Captain America in another universe. The Bucky from this universe came out of the bedroom followed by a younger version of him from what appeared to be the 1930s and another from the 1970s. They were both rubbing their eyes as if they had been asleep for a while. The younger Bucky's eyes grew large at the sight of Dr. Strange.

"Sorcerer?" Modern Bucky nodded making the 1930s version grin. "Far out."

Jim Barnes grinned at the use of his term by the older Bucky. "He doesn't look like Gandalf."

"None of us do," deadpanned Strange. "Alright, let's get you two back to where you belong. No talking about what you've seen or heard. Frankly, people in your times will think you've had a psychiatric episode if you do, so keep it quiet."

With a wave of his hand the first portal opened, and 1930s Bucky quickly shook hands with the others before stepping through. Once that portal closed, he opened another one for Jim Barnes who looked thoughtfully at the two Bucky's then waved when he stepped back into 1971. Cap Bucky extended his metal arm to modern Bucky and the two men with the shared HYDRA past grasped each other's arms before releasing them. After he stepped through the portal only Bucky and Dr. Strange were left.

"Busy night?"

"You don't know the half of it," said Strange. "Is everything alright, with you, I mean."

"Thaddeus Ross is pressuring me to join his "team," said Bucky. "I think he wants to use me to hunt down enhanced individuals. Even though the Sokovia Accords are toast he still wants control of us."

"What do you want?"

"To find my own way, one that doesn't involve hurting people, or having to justify why I should be allowed to live," said Bucky, frowning. "I just want the life I was supposed to have if HYDRA never get their claws into me, unless I ended up a serial killer anyways, because I don't want that."

"That's fair," said Strange. "Excuse me for a moment." Bucky watched as the sorcerer did his thing with the Time Stone. When he came out of his momentary review of time, he looked at Bucky and smiled. "I don't think you have to worry about Thaddeus Ross too much. As for the rest, I'm sure things will look better. How was it visiting with two versions of yourself and a version of your son?"

"Interesting," admitted Bucky. "I should try to get some sleep. Cap and I stayed up all night comparing our HYDRA experiences. I'm glad to see another version of me got away from them."

Dr. Strange said nothing, just smiled his grim smile, opened a portal and stepped through.

March 15, 1938

"So, there's no connection between having your birthday celebration now and the Ides of March?" asked Steve as the two friends headed to the train station. "I was surprised when you canceled out last weekend."

"Nope, unless you're all planning to stab me in the back," said Bucky, waving to Dot and her friend. "Now, Margie is shy like you, but she's into art. Dot says she's always drawing something."

"She looks nice." Steve blushed as his friend put his arm around his shoulder and drew up to the two young women. "Hi, Dot."

"Hey, Stevie," she said, after receiving a kiss on the cheek from Bucky. "This is my friend Margie. She's in the art program at Pratt."

"Yeah?" His face brightened. "I just had a year at Auburndale but couldn't afford another year."

"Auburndale's good," said Margie, liking Steve's blue eyes and ready smile. "I was lucky to get a scholarship to Pratt. What's your favourite medium?"

Steve offered her his arm as they went up the steps. Bucky took Dot's hand, pulling her towards him, and wrapping his arms around her.

"Thanks for waiting until this weekend and finding him a date. I didn't want Steve to feel like a third wheel."

She shrugged; her red hair vibrant under the streetlight. "I don't know why I didn't think of pairing them together before. They're alike in many ways. Steve's a good guy. He just needs to loosen up a bit."

Bucky grinned then his face grew serious as he gazed at her. "I love you; you know. Have for a long time."

Her face changed at his declaration, as she smiled then placed her hand on his cheek. "I love you, too, Bucky. Now let's go dancing."

With their arms around each other they followed the other couple up the stairs to the elevated train station, waiting for the one that would take them to the dance hall at Rockaway Beach, the second dance of the spring season.

April 7, 1971

Jim stepped off the train, placing his satchel over his shoulder as he walked towards the exit. When he stepped back into his time after being in the future, he wasn't sure what to expect. But ending up in the library at Brooklyn College wasn't it. Hopefully, he still lived in the same house with his mother, brother Steve and sister Rebecca. On the train ride to their neighbourhood, he thought over what happened to him. It had been an interesting experience, that was for sure. Perhaps, he could write about it in his journalism class. His stop came up and he made his way to the door, stepping out into the cool spring evening air. It was only a short walk from the station to the house.

"You got mail!" His mother called as he stepped inside.

How she always knew it was him coming in was interesting. He looked at the return address, Department of Defence. Shit, it was his draft notice. His last deferment didn't go through. Stopping dead in the hallway in front of the stairs he stared at the envelope wondering whether to open it.

"You better deal with it sooner rather than later," said a familiar voice that shocked him.

"Dad? I thought ...."

His dad put his finger up to his mouth. "It's me," he whispered. "It's been hard waiting for this day, waiting for this version of you to come home and know the truth. I remembered what you wore that night."

"I thought we couldn't change our past," said Jim, as his dad took him by the elbow into the living room.

"I changed my future and that changed yours, but you had to get back here to know it," said the older Barnes. "I didn't join the 107th. I became a pilot and Steve became a reporter, drawing comics of the various soldiers he met as he covered the war. Some other guy became Captain America. Some other guy became the Winter Soldier. It still worked out for them because they were different guys, and their futures were different than ours."

"But our Steve still lost his arm," said Jim.

"Yeah, but he didn't lose us because I didn't lose your mom and you kids. We got him through it, and we'll get you through whatever that letter says." He placed his calloused hand on his son's face. "I think that's why you were there so that I would know you, know what you went through as a kid because of how I dealt with the things that happened to me in your timeline. I've tried really hard to be a good man, Jim."

His eyes were glassy as he said it and the two men hugged. Then Jim opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, making a sigh of relief.

"Coast Guard," he said. "They've taken my ... when did I become an experienced sailor?"

"Since I started taking you kids out on sailboats when you were kids," smiled Bucky. "Don't worry, it should come to you, once you integrate into this timeline. Your brother, Steve, ended up on a patrol boat in the Vietnamese river system, lost his arm when he was shot from the shore. With the Coast Guard, you could end up working from home. You don't have to go to Canada, although you'll have to cut your hair and shave that monstrosity off your face."

His grin showed Jim that his dad was joking, and they hugged again. Both men thought back to that night when they went from their respective times into the future and met two other Bucky's who had gone through hell. Something drew them there, to fix both of them, and to fix what was wrong between them. It was meant to be.

May 17, 1998

Bucky was with the team when they located the Valkyrie just under the top layer of the glacier. It had shrunk from when the aircraft crash landed into it in 1945. Since then, the one wing tip was slowly exposed, to the point where it showed up on an aerial survey done by the Greenland parks service, close to the coordinates given to Bucky in 2024. Carefully they had used steam to thaw out the door into the large aircraft, finding it mostly undamaged inside, although a lot of ice had built up from all the water that seeped in from the glacier. Then a corporal called to them when he spied the shield and Bucky hurried over there, brushing the frost away from the body that lay encased in ice under the shield.

"Steve," he whispered, confirming his identity.

The extraction team came in, carefully unthawing the ice several inches underneath the frozen remains, then lifting the icy block onto a stretcher, then into a Chinook helicopter. Bucky sat near Steve's body, watching as the block of ice was wrapped in thermal blankets to slow down the rate of the ice melting so it was gradual and wouldn't put his body into shock. By the time the large helicopter landed in Thule, they had the special medical unit set up, with Peggy and Tony waiting as Steve's body was wheeled in. None of them slept well over that week as they did everything they could to keep the thawing process stable. When the decision was made to start warming the body they waited anxiously, hoping that the information given to Bucky was accurate. Ten days after he was transported there, Steve Rogers opened his eyes and saw himself in a hospital room, with tubes and IV lines coming in and out of his body. He shifted, setting up a bunch of alarms, which brought a number of people running. The person he noticed first was already there, with a head of dark hair, long in length, a several day-old beard, and the blue eyes of his best friend, Bucky.

"Hey punk," said that best friend, grinning at him. "I thought I told you not to do anything stupid until I got back."

"Buck." Steve tried to raise himself, but several hands came out to stop him. "You're alive. You fell."

"Yeah, I did." Bucky smiled sadly. "I'll tell you about it later. The important thing is that we found you. A lot has happened since you went into the ice, but now that you're here, I think things are going to look up."

The two friends looked at each other with affection. Catching up would have to wait, as a team of medical personnel arrived to document the momentous occasion when a frozen body was successfully reanimated after over 50 years encased in the ice. It was one for the history books.

May 31, 2024

It had been almost two weeks since that night when the three portals discharged the two Bucky's and Jim Barnes on the rooftop of the building. Bucky had kept a low profile since then, although he phoned Sam, telling him about Ross's ultimatum to him. Sam was angry about that and raised a very public stink, which made Ross back off, although Bucky still had the feeling someone was watching him from afar. More than likely, he was being paranoid. On this Friday morning, he got up, hearing about a particular motorcycle for sale in Bensonhurst. When he got off the train he began the short walk to the shop. Frowning at the Closed sign on it when he arrived, he peeked inside the window, then noticed a back door was open. Heading around to the back he saw a woman, sitting in a lawn chair, with her feet up on a crate, a coffee on another crate while she closed her eyes in the sun.

"Excuse me," he said, making her eyes open, frowning at him. "I called about the World War II motorcycle. The man said I could come this morning to look at it."

She ran her eyes over him, then sighed. "That was likely my deadbeat brother. He's taken the bike. Said he had a buyer for it in the Bronx. Personally, I think he took it to his loan shark, to pay off some of his debt. Sorry that you came all this way for nothing." She shook her head, seeming to fight off some tears. "Hell of a way to run a business but what do I know? My dad left it to both of us and he's running it into the ground, while I'm trying to make it a going concern."

"Well, I guess the price he quoted was too good to be true," said Bucky. "I'm sorry to bother you."

He turned to leave but she called out to him. "Hey mister? There's another classic motorcycle in there. Needs some work but whatever price you want to pay for it, I'm willing to let it go for that. Otherwise, the bank will just seize it when they foreclose."

"I don't want to take advantage of your situation," said Bucky.

She stood up, surprising him with her height as she was only a couple of inches shorter than him.

"Come in and have a look at it, you never know," she replied, walking towards the open door to the shop.

They stepped inside and right away, Bucky felt comfortable with all the motorcycles in various states of repair. He saw several from the 1940s as well as some 1950s models. She stopped beside a silver motorcycle that seemed to be complete, a 1958 Triumph Tiger 100. He kneeled down, looking carefully at the engine, then stood up and examined the finishings.

"She's beautiful," he said. "What's left to do?"

The woman shrugged. "Honestly? I'm not sure what I'm missing. She starts up fine, then about a mile into the ride she starts running rough and by the time I get her back here she gives up the ghost. I've put a lot of time into restoring her but I'm missing something."

"You're the mechanic?" He noticed her look of dismay at his comment. "I'm not being critical. I'm impressed." He stuck his hand out. "Bucky."

"Angel," she replied, shaking his hand, then noticing his smile. "Yeah, it's my real name. I guess my great grandpa took one look at me when he came to the hospital just after I was born and said I was an angel. He's the one who started this shop, after World War II. He was responsible for the motor pool for the Howling Commandos, Sergeant Bruno Moretti."

She pointed to a large, framed photograph on the wall. With a smile, Bucky went over to it, grinning at the picture of the Howling Commandos as he bent closer to it. That's when Angel saw him in the picture, then looked back and forth between the man standing beside her and the man on the old photograph.

"You're Bucky Barnes."

"Yeah," he replied, then straightened up. "You're Sarge's great granddaughter. Did you know him?"

"No, he died when I was about a year old. Grandpa told me his stories about the Howlies ... that's what you called yourselves, right?"

Bucky nodded his head, feeling nostalgic at the moment. "They were a good group of guys. Sarge always kept us supplied with working vehicles. Didn't even mind when I would tinker with the motorcycles. Showed me a few things as well. Sometimes, I'm amazed I still remember it."

"Well, you've been through a lot," replied Angel. "It must be hard at times, stuck in a future that is so different. Sometimes .... Never mind." She looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"No, it's okay," said Bucky. "What were you going to say?"

"Well, sometimes I feel like I'm out of my right time," she said. "I mean, I like the old music, and even though I'm a mechanic, I'm kind of a girlie girl when I'm not knuckle deep in a greasy engine. It must be worse for you sometimes. I imagine you missed out on a lot of things because of what happened to you." She looked away again. "Sorry, I'm babbling."

"I don't mind. You're honest without being cruel and that's a good quality."

They stood without talking for a moment, comfortable in the silence, then their peace and quiet was shattered by the arrival of Angel's brother, Tony. Right away, Bucky didn't care for the guy, wondering how he was such a jerk compared to his sister. Eventually, he found that he had to leave before he was tempted to punch Tony and headed out the back door. Before he got very far, he heard his voice being called and turned to see Angel walking towards him. She handed him her business card.

"Stay in touch," she smiled. "We can go for coffee or something. If you want."

"Yeah, I would like that." He looked at her again. "Do you have your phone with you?" She nodded. He phoned the number she gave him, making her phone ring. "Save my phone number. We can talk about the different things you can try to narrow down that problem with the Triumph. Or maybe you can talk your brother into selling his share in the business to someone else."

They were looking at more than each other's eyes when he said that. Then Angel smiled and saved Bucky's phone number to her contacts. They began to walk away from each other then both turned to look back at the same moment, making them chuckle. With a wave, Bucky headed towards the subway station, feeling pretty positive about his prospects.

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