Winter Is Coming (A Bucky Barnes Fanfic)

Chapter 13: Sweater Weather

"Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance."-Yoko Ono

***

"I think I saw candles in the drawer under the sink."

An aggressive snowstorm blows away outside, knocking out the power in Bucky and Harley's S.H.I.E.L.D. apartment.

"How does S.H.I.E.L.D. not have a backup generator or something?" Bucky questions, annoyed as he sets the small candles on the granite counter. "If anyone were to have one, they would."

"I'm sure they're working on it," Harley reassures him, going down the line and lighting the candles with her pointer finger. "I'd say this is one of the worst storms New York has seen in a while."

Bucky closes the drawer with more force than necessary. "If everyone's out of power, we'll have to wait longer to find Steve."

"I'm sure that Stark still has power."

"That's true," Bucky mutters. He sighs. It's two in the morning, and neither of them could sleep. Any attempt at slumber for Bucky leads to heartbreaking nightmares, while Harley doesn't feel comfortable leaving Bucky alone at a time like this. "Are you cold?"

Harley restrains from giving him the most sarcastic face ever. "I'm fine."

Bucky chuckles, barely. "I'm so used to asking that because of Steve back in the day. That kid was a magnet for the cold. I hope he's okay now." Worry is permanently settled in his heart; he doesn't know how to relieve it.

Harley finishes lighting the candles and moves over to Bucky, embracing him and kissing him softly. "Steve is fine. He's not a scrawny, asthmatic kid anymore."

"The little Steve is still in there though."

***

By the glow of the lanterns, Fury looks more antagonistic than ever.

"We need to know anything you remember about Hydra," he insists. "I don't care if it's something as simple as what food they served."

"I can't recall anything important, nor do I want to," Harley says impatiently.

"I think Rumlow might be behind it all," Bucky predicts. "He didn't die, did he?"

"He was in that building with me when it exploded," Sam says. "I'm not sure if he made it."

Bucky remembers Rumlow being there most of the time when he got brainwashed or had to give a mission report. He never liked him.

"Fury killed Pierce, so he's out," Natasha adds.

Fury sighs. "Who's behind it isn't one of my biggest concerns right now; although, Stark brought up the thought of involving the Avengers."

Bucky shakes his head. "This isn't their problem."

Harley agrees. "I don't think they should be involved. It'd be pointless to recruit everyone just for Hydra."

"We can take them," Bucky concludes.

Fury nods. "Then that's decided, but I won't promise that Stark will stay out of your way."

***

*The Winter Soldier finds a good spot on a hill overlooking a newly paved road. They should be coming any minute now. He sets up his gun and loads it, ready for his two shot mission.

The Winter Soldier silently waits for the car. He hears it roaring from the top of the road and looks through the aiming device, smirking defiantly.

The luxury car nears the middle of the road and the Winter Soldier shoots out the left tire first, watching the vehicle skid before shooting out the right tire. This sends the car over the weak railing, soaring towards the waters below.

The Winter Soldier packs up his equipment quickly and vanishes.*

Tony Stark opens another bottle of scotch, discarding of the empty one over his shoulder with a loud crash. He drinks straight out of the bottle, not bothering to pour it in a glass. It will all be gone either way.

Tony slumps onto the couch like a rag doll, his extremities flailing carelessly. On the glass coffee table sits a newspaper article that he has long since memorized, every comma and semicolon burned into the side of his head. He picks it up reluctantly. The title screams out to him:

Howard and Maria Stark Die in Car Accident on Long Island.

Today was the anniversary of their death. On this day, December 17th, 1991, twenty-three years ago, Tony's parents were murdered. The tires had been blown out. It was the work of an assassin.

There is a picture of the crash after it had been towed out of the water on the back of the article. The car was totaled, as were the people inside it.

Tony fights tears and takes a long drink of scotch, letting the alcohol burn his throat and letting it take away everything that hurt, everything that pained him, and everything that made him remember.

Gazing at the picture of his father, Tony's eyes feel watery; he doesn't fight it anymore and lets the salty tears fall. He downs more of the scotch and moves to the fireplace to burn the article, something he should've done twenty-three years ago.

He takes one last look at it and freezes, bringing the paper as close to his face as possible.

There, on the top of the hill that overlooks the road, he sees someone. They are concealed behind a tree, watching their dirty work being fished out of the water, and Tony knows exactly who it was. He would recognize that get up anywhere. The Winter Soldier.

"I'm not drunk yet," Tony says, smashing the remainder of the alcohol on the ground and regretting it. "Jarvis, pull up everything we have on the Winter Soldier."

"Sir, I don't deem this a wise choice," says Jarvis in his professional voice. "Shall we wait until you are deprived of all alcoholic beverages?"

"I don't care what you say," Tony slurs, uncapping vodka this time. "I'm not that drunk. Let me see it."

Slowly and reluctantly, Jarvis pulls up the files.