Long Way Home

"From one ghost to another, you look like shit, Barnes."

Bucky looked up at the man he'd murdered a month ago. His fingers itched to reach for one of the guns under his jacket or the knives tucked into the pockets of his cargo pants, but he kept his hands flat on his thighs. He was on a park bench, kids playing in the distance. The Winter Soldier wouldn't have cared – collateral damage was an acceptable risk – but Bucky Barnes was trying to be a person now.

"Are you here to kill me?" His voice was rough, unused, tired.

"No, I'm here to help you." Nick Fury sat down on the bench next to him. "My guess is you aren't ready to join the world just yet, but you're also at a loss without a mission to complete. Call it two birds, one stone."

"You need a weapon and I need a purpose?"

"Funny how these things work out."

"I don't ..." he faltered. "I don't want to be that anymore."

Fury tilted his head to the side and Bucky could feel the man studying him behind his dark glasses. "Revenge can be a great motivator."

Bucky closed his eyes, the sun making the darkness red. A child was laughing, playing on the swings, but all Bucky could hear was screaming. Blood everywhere. His hands soaked in it.

Fury's steady voice cut through the memories. "Barnes, I'm not asking you to be a mindless assassin again. To bring down HYDRA, we need intel. We need to be one step ahead of them. I have a hunch you know key places to start."

He opened his eyes and squinted into the sunlight. "I have no idea what I know."

"I think you know more than you realize."

"Well, I've managed to remember my name these past couple of weeks and that I like my coffee black, so I guess that's a start."

Fury gave him a ghost of a smile and Bucky felt the tension in his shoulders easing. The other man leaned in closer, his voice low. "We do this smart and we neutralize the right people, we can stop them before they set their next plan in motion. Washington was a start but I'm under no illusions that we even made a dent in their infrastructure."

"Cut off one head, two more will take its place." Bucky's voice was flat as another voice echoed the saying in his head.

"That's their arrogance talking and that's a weakness," Fury said. "I can't do this on my own and right now, I don't have a whole hell of a lot of people I trust to help me with this."

Bucky's scrunched his forehead up in confusion. "But you trust me?"

"I trust the brave man who fought alongside his captain during some of the toughest missions in a terrible war. That man deserves a second chance, don't you think?"

Bucky let the words wash over him. He felt the same confusion he felt staring at his memorial at the museum. Familiar. Foreign. Terrifying. Safe. Dangerous. All at once. It was like jumping from a plane without a parachute. He was that man, he knew that now, but knowing didn't make it any more real.

He leaned forward, his eyes on the kids who were now playing tag – one hiding behind the bushes, her giggling a dead giveaway. He didn't look at Fury when he spoke. "What's in it for you?"

"Let's call it paying off a debt I owe."

Bucky turned toward him, a shot of anger slicing through the haze he'd been living with since pulling his mission out of the water. "I shot you. I killed you. You don't owe me anything."

"One of the only men I looked up to and trusted without hesitation had you locked up and tortured two miles from my office and I never suspected it. Listen, kid, it's not often I feel remorse or guilt, so I suggest you shut up and take it while you can."