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Chapter Text

Bucky hadn’t had a heat in nearly 70 years. So it’s to be expected that his first one in nearly seven decades would be rough. They couldn’t even wean Bucky off his suppressants, because no one knew what kind of military grade stuff HYDRA used on him. Bucky’s heat hit him like a freight train. He spent the better part of two weeks curled up in bed, cramping, sore, and hot. None of that hot and heavy sex that people expect from a heat. Bucky couldn’t stand the idea of Steve touching him, one to many stimuli already crossing through his body.  But during the last few days of his heat, Bucky became too fed up with the ache, and brought Steve into his nest. They spent the next 72 hours together in Bucky’s nest, reuniting their mating bonds.

It came as no surprise to anyone then, that a month after his heat, Bucky found out he was pregnant. When he told Steve, Steve was petrified and overjoyed. While Bucky was more terrified. 

Whenever he got pregnant inside HYDRA, the fetuses never lasted long. Bucky would either miscarry or throw himself around his cell until the life inside his womb died out. Bucky refused to subject an innocent child to the horrors of HYDRA. Even if it destroyed him to kill what was inside him.

But this wasn’t HYDRA’s baby. It’s not the offspring of some agent that raped Bucky. This is Steve’s baby. The offspring of his mate. The product of love, not suffering. 

The last few months have been anything but easy. Not only is Bucky still recovering from his time as the Winter Soldier, he’s now pregnant, and on top of that the remnants of HYDRA  gathered together and started causing trouble.

Bucky had wanted to help, he’s a soldier, he knows HYDRA better than anyone, but Steve had refused. Using his big alpha voice to get Bucky to stay put. Steve said he needs to nest, relax, and get ready for the pup’s imminent arrival. 

Bucky is checking the baby’s nursery for the hundredth time. Making sure everything is perfect. Bucky had gone down a rabbit hole when he first learned he was expecting. The internet was a weird and incredible resource. Bucky spent days online researching everything from cribs, to enrichment, health foods, all trying to prepare himself to be the mother he could be. Steve later found Bucky on his computer at 1am having a panic attack over all the way he or the pup could die he just learned from the internet. Steve made Bucky stop researching after that. 

Now 8 months later, Bucky is about ready to pop. 

“Oof,” Bucky groans as the pup shifts around in his stomach, giving a nice kick to his rib cage. 

“You okay?” Natasha asks from the kitchen, she’s helping Bucky out today because Steve is out on a mission. Natasha has been the most supportive of anyone during Bucky’s pregnancy. She has been helping him and Steve get ready and learn about infinite care in this new century. Bucky knows Natasha does all this because she wants a family more than anything, but the Red Room made sure she’d never be able to, and being Anty Nat is the closest thing she’s going to get to being a mother. 

“Yes, I’m okay. Just this one being a little acrobat,” Bucky laughs. Today is a good day. Bucky doesn’t have a lot of good days. Most days he is too haunted by the shadows of his past, the fear and anxiety paralyzing him until Bucky can’t get out of bed. But today is a good day.

Bucky leaves the baby’s room and moves into the living room. Bucky’s right arm comes to rest under his stomach as he moves. Bucky is still terrified by his Vibranium arm. Despite all Steve’s encouragement, Bucky still refuses to touch his baby with that arm.  

The whole apartment is filled with the scent of home. A mix of Steve’s alpha scent and Bucky’s pregnant omega scent, and underneath all that Bucky can smell the team’s scents. Their pack, who have all been in the apartment to help Steve and Bucky prepare for the pup. 

Bucky had never had a pack before. Neither had Steve until the Avengers team was created. Bucky didn’t think the team would welcome him into their pack, especially after everything he did. But to his surprise, he was enveloped into the pack, with everyone saying their pack alpha’s omega is immediately part of their pack.

JARVIS announces from the ceiling that Bucky’s prenatal doctor has arrived for his check up. This one is probably the last one Bucky will have before he gives birth. The doctor walks into the room with a wide smile. At first doctors or anything medical had been hard for Bucky, but Dr. Sugaar told him and Steve he is great friends with Bruce and would be highly recommended. Knowing one of his pack members endorsed this doctor had greatly helped to calm Bucky. 

Dr. Sugaar  has been the best physician Bucky and Steve could have asked for.

“Good morning Mr. Barnes,” The good doctor greets.

“Good morning to you too, Dr. Sugaar,” Bucky offers his hand, which the doctor shakes, “Thank you for coming.”

“Morning doc,” Natasha chimes in.

“Of course Mr. Barnes. Now let's get you on the couch and check on how your pup is doing.”

Bucky waddles over to the couch and slowly descends himself down. Sitting and standing have become very hard in his late stage of pregnancy. Natasha steps out of the room to let Bucky and Dr. Sugaar have some privacy. 

Once he’s settled, Dr. Sugaar pulls up a chair and reaches for his stethoscope. The doctor checks Bucky’s heart rate and then the baby’s. The whole time Bucky has to keep reminding himself this is not HYDRA, despite how familiar it might feel.  

“Well, both your heart rates sound good, but the baby’s is beating a little fast,” Dr. Sugaar tells Bucky, putting away his stethoscope. 

A flare of panic makes Bucky sit up quickly, “What does that mean?!”

“It’s nothing,” He assures, “But I do want to give you an injection of a light sedative to calm both your heart rates,” He reaches in his medical bag and produces a needle filled with a clear liquid. He flicks the end a couple of times. A gesture Bucky is all too familiar with, but this is for his baby, it’s fine. Right?

“O-Okay.” Before Bucky could even finish the word, Dr. Sugaar had slipped the needle under his skin and was pushing the liquid into his veins. The medication is cold, and Bucky can feel it traveling up through his veins, being distributed inside his body. 

“There you go! Well done Mr. Barnes,” Dr. Sugaar  turns away from Bucky to pack up the last of his medical equipment, “You might feel a little bit drowsy and weak throughout the day, that’s perfectly normal.”

Bucky zones out half way through what the doctor is saying. When he refocuses, Dr. Sugaar is smiling down at him, but it’s not his usual smile. Bucky forces himself up, it’s harder than before, damn pregnancy belly, he thinks.

“Thank you for seeing me doc, both Steve and I appreciate you keeping an eye on me throughout this whole thing,” Bucky tells the doctor as he walks him to the door.

“It was my pleasure to watch you grow throughout this pregnancy Mr. Barnes.”

“Well, I guess this is it. I won’t be needing any more prenatal check ups, just natal,” Bucky jokes.

“Oh, don’t worry Mr. Barnes, I’ll be seeing you again real soon,” Dr. Sugaar  smiles one more time at Bucky before walking out the door.

Once the doctor leaves, Bucky goes to sit back down on the couch. These appointments always take a lot out of him, with the worry and anxiety, but for some reason he’s more tired than usual. Bucky closes his eyes, choosing to just rest a little bit.

Someone is shaking Bucky’s shoulder, hard, and calling his name. Bucky groans and blinks his eyes open. Everything is blurry at first, but then his eyes refocus on the head of red hair looking down at him. 

“N- Nat..?” Bucky’s throat is dry and scratchy. Wait… What’s going on? Bucky asks himself. Bucky’s scent is off, not quite the pregnant omega scent he’s used to producing. 

“Oh thank god! You were sleeping like the dead,” She says, “I thought you were just resting, but then you weren’t getting up.”

“I guess I’m just really tired…” Bucky throws his legs over the edge of the couch, sitting up, only to immediately be hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea. There is a terrible ache in Bucky’s torso, the deep soreness of stretched muscles.

“Bucky!” Natasha shouts at Bucky’s sudden sway. Bucky lifts his head and looks around, outside the windows it’s dusk. Shit how long was he sleeping?

“Oh shit, Nat. I don’t feel too good…” Bucky groans, his limbs feel too heavy, and his head feels cloudy. It’s like how he felt when he was drugged at HYDRA.

“I’m going to call Bruce, and then I’m going to call Steve,” Bucky opens his mouth to protest, saying Steve’s out on a mission, “No. I am calling Steve. He’ll kill me if you're not feeling well and I didn’t call him.” Bucky resigns, knowing Natasha is right. 

Natasha steps out into the hall to call Bruce and Steve. As she does so, Bucky tries to stand up. He sways on his feet and has to hold onto the couch for support. Then all his muscles seem to clench and push downwards. There is the feeling of something breaking and the sploosh of water.

“Nat!” Bucky screams and she comes rushing back through the door to see exactly what has just happened, “I’m in labor!” 

“Bruce, get your ass down here right now!” Natasha is yelling into her phone, hangs up on Bruce and calls Steve. Less than a minute later Bruce is skidding through the door of their apartment, looking frazzled. His eyes lock into Bucky and the puddle of amniotic fluid on the floor and kicks into overdrive. 

“Okay, let’s get you laying down first,” Bruce helps Bucky back to the couch and lays him down. Bruce puts on his glasses and starts to examine Bucky. “Bucky, how long have you been in labor?”

“I don’t know!” He shouts as another contraction hits, “I just woke up and my water broke.”

A considered look comes over Bruce’s face, “There is no way you could have slept through this stage of labor. You’re already 7 centimeters dilated, and your muscles are far too loose. Did anything out of the ordinary happen today?”

“No- Oh yes! Dr. Sugaar gave me something to calm the baby’s heart,” Bucky tells Bruce, who seems to get more confused.

“Who?” Bruce asks.

“Dr. Sugaar, y’know? The prenatal doctor you recommended.” 

“Bucky, I never recommended any prenatal doctor,” Bruce says grimly. The whole world seems to stop for a second as Bucky processes what Bruce just said. He never recommended a prenatal doctor? Then who has been treating Bucky these past eight months? Who has he been letting near his pup?

The one to break the silence is Natasha, “Oh shit…” Bucky’s chest starts to move rapidly as his breathing increases. Bucky knows he is starting to have a panic attack, but hell, if there is any time to have a panic attack it’s now. He’s in labor, his mate isn’t there, a man who was not the prenatal doctor his packmate recommended has been seeing him for months, and he was drugged. So yeah, Bucky deserves this panic attack. 

As if shit couldn’t get any worse, the lights go out and the tower alarm starts to go off. A loud searching alarm echos through the tower and a red flashing light is the only light source. The three of them look around in confusion.

“JARVIS what’s going on?” Natasha asks the A.I.

“It seems there has been a security breach on the 30th floor. Several unidentified individuals have entered the building and are traveling upwards.”  

Bucky’s heart sinks, “It’s HYDRA, they’re coming for me,” Bucky whispers, “Nat! Nat please,” Bucky reaches out and takes one of Natasha’s hands, “Please protect my pup. I don’t care what happens to me, they just need to be safe. It’s HYDRA, they’re coming for me.” 

“No, Bucky, no. You are both going to be okay. I’m sure Tony is on it, and Steve is on his way back. Steve will be here any minute now,” Natasha tries to reassure Bucky, but she’s not even sure herself. Bucky screams and holds into her hand tighter as another contraction comes.

The more energy Bucky’s body is used for the contractions, the more fatigued he feels. Soon Bucky can barely manage to squeeze Natasha's hand. He feels so weak, and tired. Is this how Steve used to feel when he was sick? 

Bruce is panicking next to Bucky, worried at the slight blue tinge to his lips, “The drug must affect muscle movement. Bucky I need you to take deep breaths. You’re not taking in enough oxygen.” 

Bucky would do as Bruce says, if he could manage, but everything hurts. It’s so loud and dark. Nothing makes sense. Where is Steve?

“He’ll be here soon Buck, we promise,” Natasha responds. Oh, Bucky must have said that last part out loud. 

“You shouldn’t be talking, Bucky, just focus on your breathing,” Bruce jumps in. 

There is a grinding sound and a scream, Bucky opens his eyes to see Natasha lowering the gun that just a second ago was pointed at Steve’s head. 

Steve! Bucky starts to cry at the sight of his mate. Steve is sweaty and panting, not even in uniform, just clutching his shield. Steve must have gotten in through the emergency exit that is hidden in the bedroom. The whole apartment is filled with the scent of a distressed omega, which only worries Steve more. 

“Steve!” Bucky cries, just as Steve says, “Bucky!” 

Steve rushes over to his mate. Finding him covered in blood, lightly breathing, weak, and in labor, he looks to Bruce, “Why haven’t you gotten him out of here yet?! The tower is under attack!”

“You don’t think we know that?!” Natasha snaps. 

“We can’t move Bucky right now, he’s far too weak for that, and the baby is almost crowning,” Bruce supplies his reasons to the very worried alpha. 

“Weak? What’s wrong?” Steve looks between Bucky and Bruce.

“It seems that Bucky has been drugged with some sort of paralyzer. It’s making his muscles unable to move and making the birth more difficult. It’s best we don’t move him.”

“But they’re almost here!” Steve yells at Bruce.   

 “Steve please…” Bucky’s voice is strained, but nevertheless, Steve hears it and is instantly at his mate’s side. 

“What is it baby? Are you okay? What hurts? Is the pup okay,” A rush of words and concerns fly from Steve’s mouth.

“Steve, alpha, I’m okay…” 

There is a loud bang in the hallway, right outside the door to the apartment. Then another, and another. Natasha cocks her guns, Steve raises his shield, Bruce takes off his glasses, and Bucky grits his teeth through another contraction. 

The door flies off its hinges and a dozen HYDRA agents step into the apartment, gun drawn. The Avengers recognize a few as former SHIELD agents. Like Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins. At the front, in full tactical gear is Dr. Sugaar, well that’s probably not his real name. 

“Dr. Sugaar?” Steve asks, confused, glancing between the ‘doctor’ and Bucky.

“He’s not really a doctor,” Barely gets out through his strained teeth. 

“I told you I’d be seeing you real soon, Soldat,” The former Dr. Sugaar smiles. Not the friendly smile Bucky was used to. The one he saw today, more sinister of a smile. 

It hits Bucky then that Dr. Sugar is one of the doctors that treated him inside HYDRA. He remembers that same sinister smile being flashed at him as he screamed in pain. He recognizes the smile from when HYDRA would operate on him without anesthesia. How could he be so stupid as to not recognize him?!

A chill runs down Bucky’s spine as he hears Sugaar call him that name. Somewhere deep inside of Bucky, he knows he’s not getting out of this. 

“You are not taking him away from us again,” Steve says in his alpha voice, as he raises his shield in defence. 

“Are you even sure that pup is yours, Rogers?” Laughs Rumlow, “I mean, he’s quite the slut. I wouldn’t be surprised if the pup is one of ours. You really gonna die over an omega whore?”

Bucky curls in on himself at Rumlow’s crude comments about him, but just as he does so a harder contraction hits and Bucky whimpers in pain, despite how hard he tried to hide his vulnerability. 

“Ah, I’m glad to see the dose I gave you was enough to induce labor, Soldat. I was worried I might have to give you more,” Sugaar comments.

“You! You did this?!” Bucky asks incredulously. He’s only eight months. His pup isn’t supposed to be born yet, the baby could have health issues, or come out premature. 

“Bucky, please calm down,” Bruce says, and immediately gets a death glare, “You’re almost there. Just a few more pushes,” Bruce was trying his best to remain calm in this high stress situation. He keeps glancing between Bucky, and the HYDRA agents, worried about what they want with the baby.

Bucky screams with the next contraction, which provides the perfect distraction, as Steve takes his eyes off Rumlow for just an instant to look at his mate. It is in that instant that Rumlow lunges at Steve. Then all hell breaks loose.

Steve and Natasha are fighting with over a dozen HYDRA agents, trying their best to keep them away from Bucky and Bruce. While Bruce is trying to successfully deliver a pup to a very stressed Bucky. Jesus, Bruce isn’t even a medical doctor, he just has his doctorate!

Steve shoves Rumlow to the floor with a push of his shield. Then he raises it defensively to block some knife attacks from another agent. Natasha fires her guns, taking down several agents. She swings around and fights off some more attackers. 

“Ahh!” Bucky cries out in pain, and suddenly he isn’t the only one crying. There is a shape wail, as the pup slips from inside him. Bruce catches the pup and wraps them up in one of the couch’s blankets. Quickly passing the pup to Bucky to hold close to his chest. 

Bucky stares down at his pup, and for one amazing, glorious second, everything is perfect. There is no fighting. There is no pain. Only happiness, only Steve and Bucky’s love, and the love for their pup. Then that second ends.

The cold metal of a blade is pressed against Bucky’s throat. Bucky can see Rumlow standing behind him, a trickle of blood running down his face from where Steve hit him. Everything seems to stop. The fighting halts, HYDRA has the upper hand, one wrong move and Bucky is dead.

“Get. Up.” Rumlow orders through gritted teeth. 

Bucky doesn’t know if it’s his programming or his fear that makes him stand up. His legs are shaky, he’s weak, and exhausted. A rush of blood splatters onto the floor as Bucky stands. He holds his pup close to his chest, hunching over the baby, almost as if to hide them. 

Rumlow gabs onto Bucky’s waist to draw him closer, pressing the blade more into Bucky’s throat. Bucky swallows, and a cut appears on his Adam’s Apple and starts to drip blood. 

“Now,” Sugaar starts, “I knew we were never going to get Soldat out of here, so we needed a matter of leverage. It’s your choice, Rogers, we take Soldat, or we kill the pup.”

Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat. Steve’s eyes go wide in panic. Natasha’s mouth drops open and it takes everything in her not to move. Bruce stares, clanches his fists, this is not the time nor the place to hulk out.

“Please, Steve, Please. Don’t let them hurt our pup. Please…” Bucky begs, staring right into Steve’s soul. As much as it hurts Steve, he knows it’s what Bucky wants. “Take me, just don’t hurt my baby.”

Sugaar seems satisfied with that answer, “Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to walk out of here with Soldat. If you try to attack us or pull some sort of trick, they are both dead. Once we have Soldat, you can have your little pup back. Agreed?” Sugaar looks at Steve expectantly.

“Agreed…” Steve swears a little part of his heart dies as he utters the word.

They walk out of Avengers Tower, the HYDRA agents surrounding Bucky and the new born pup. Steve, Natasha, and Bruce are on either side of the agents, keeping a close eye on Bucky.

Bucky’s body moves on instinct, he’s too focused on his pup, who starts wailing as they leave the apartment. Bucky tries to settle the pup in fear of what the HYDRA will do if they get too annoyed with the baby’s crying. The high pitch wails make Bucky's chest start to leak, he wishes he could feed his pup, but he can’t.

When they reach the bottom floor of the tower and the exit, a reinforced car screeches up to meet them. They start to pull Bucky away and the pup starts to cry harder. Steve tries to rush to his mate’s side, as he watches rough hands grab onto Bucky, only to be stopped by a wall of HYDRA agents. 

“Wait! Wait, please, just give me my pup,” Steve begs.

“A deal is a deal, Captain. A soldier for a pup,” Sugaar replies. 

The pup is ripped from Bucky’s arms, who lets out a cry, and unceremoniously dropped into Steve’s arms. It’s the first time he’s holding his pup, it shouldn’t be under circumstances like this. 

The agents slap a pair of restraints onto Bucky’s wrists and drag him to the door, forcing him inside the car. But right before Bucky is stolen away, he thrashes around a cranes neck to look back at his team.

“Wait! Bruce, you never told me, is the pup a boy or a girl?!” Bucky yells desperately. Desperate to know his baby’s gender before he is hauled off back to HYDRA.

“It’s a girl!” Bruce says quickly. 

“A girl…” Bucky whispers, a look of fondness and love is the last thing Steve sees before Bucky is shoved into the car and it’s peeling out into the street.

Steve stares down at his daughter, the small pup coos at him. She looks just like Bucky, same dark brown hair, same pale skin, but she has Steve’s piercing blue eyes. 

Tears start to travel down Steve’s as the adrenaline from the situation wears off. Steve is now looking at his new born pup, who’s mother, and his mate, was just kidnapped. And Steve just lets them. He lets them walk out with his mate. He knows it’s what Bucky wanted, that his mate would sacrifice himself a thousand times over for his pup, but that doesn’t make it any easier. 

He should have fought harder. Steve could have done more. Protected Bucky better. Steve promised Bucky when he found him again he’d be safe, and wouldn’t need to worry about HYDRA anymore. What a fucking lie that was. Steve already lost Bucky once, he doesn’t think he’d survive losing him again. 

The pup cries in his arms, clearly picking up on Steve's distressed scent. “Don’t worry, cub, we’ll get you mommy back, I promise." This is one promise Steve doesn’t intend on breaking. 

Chapter Text

Six months. 

That’s how long Bucky has been gone. That’s also how old their daughter is. 

Steve stares down at the sleeping baby in her crib and feels… nothing.

Bucky’s gone, taken by HYDRA moments after giving birth to their daughter. It’s been six months and Steve is still no closer to bringing back his mate than the day he was taken.

Over these months HYDRA has been extremely active. Bombings, terrorist attacks, hostage situations, assassinations. All just to keep the Avengers busy and keep them from looking for Bucky. Steve is so close to telling the team to fuck off and stop handling whatever new problem HYDRA has created and just find Bucky. But that was the whole point of these attacks, there is no real reason behind them, it’s all a distraction.

The pup’s crib has been moved into Steve and Bucky’s bedroom. Steve doesn’t want to be away from the pup, just in case HYDRA comes back. The nursery sits untouched. Steve refuses to go in there, because it hurts too much. It reminds him too much of what Bucky is missing.

The pup starts to cry. The noise snaps Steve out of his thoughts. The alpha reaches into the crib and lifts his daughter to his chest. He bounces her and shushes her, feeds her bottles, but she never stops crying.

“I know, I know, you miss your mommy. Don’t worry, I miss him too, but we’re going to find him and bring him home,” Steve tells her. He’s been saying that for so long, he’s not sure he believes it himself anymore. Bucky’s dog tags hang heavy over his heart. 

The apartment has started to lose Bucky’s omega scent, the same scent that used to be intertwined with Steve, now fading. When Steve realized Bucky’s scent was dull, he curled up in Bucky’s nest and cried for a whole day, just taking in his mate’s scent, ignoring the cry of the pup. 

The pup has grown a lot, each time the pup crawls around or grows more hair on her head, it’s a pang in Steve's heart. Bucky should be here. He should be here to watch his pup grow. She shouldn’t be growing up without Bucky. 

The pup has lacked an omega for her entire life. No mother to care for her, no mother to feed her. Steve has had to rely on formula to bottle feed the pup. It felt, still feels, unnatural. Back in his day, an omega’s milk was the only way to nurse a pup. Now there are all these different methods and formulas. Steve never thought he’d be learning which formula was best for a pup. He always figured Bucky would be nursing their pup. But Bucky’s not here. 

The team has been surrounding Steve a lot more since Bucky was taken. They tried to get Wanda to help Steve out, since she’s the only other omega in the Avenger’s team. Steve had gone ballistic, the scent of another omega in his den, made him physically recoil. Steve yelled at them that he isn’t going to replace Bucky with another omega. That the only omega he needs, their pup needs, is Bucky. 

The team backed off after that. 

Steve apologized to Wanda, when he came out of his alpha rage he realized what a dick he was. He told her it was nothing against her, he just can’t handle another omega in his den, caring for his pup. Not when Bucky is out there, suffering at the hand of HYDRA, instead of caring for his pup.

Wanda said she understood, but Steve could still tell she was hurt by his outburst. 

One person who hasn’t moved from Steve’s side is Natasha. Which makes sense, she barely moved from Bucky’s side while he was pregnant. Now that he’s gone, she is immovable. Steve thinks  she might be spending more time in the nursery than in her own den. 

“-eve. Steve!” Steve’s head snaps up, he was so lost in thought he didn’t realize someone was calling his name. Usually his super soldier instincts would have kicked in and alerted him, but lately with how little sleep he’s been getting, not even the super serum could pull him out of the sluggish state he’s been stuck in.

“Huh?” Steve looks up at Natasha, she has her arms crossed around her chest and is giving him a stern, worried look. It feels like everyone has been giving him that same concerned look lately. 

“I was calling your name, and you just didn’t hear me,” Natasha tells him. 

“Sorry, Nat. It’s just the pup was crying, and she won’t stop.” As if on cue the pup pops off her bottle and gives a whine. She seems to have gotten most of the fussiness out, so Steve sets her back in her crib. 

Natasha sighs, sitting down on the edge of Steve’s bed, “Steve, I think it’s time to name her. We can’t just keep calling her ‘The Pup’. She needs an actual name.” 

“No. Not until Bucky gets back.” Steve stares at his sleeping cub, not even turning around. Steve has refused to name his daughter until Bucky is returned home. She is both of their daughters, they should both be there when she gets a name.

“But what if Bucky doesn’t come back?” Steve lets out a dangerous, low growl at that comment, “That’s not what I meant. I mean, what if he comes back and he’s not the Bucky you know? What if he doesn’t remember? How long are you going to wait for him? We can’t call her ‘The Pup’ forever. What’s next, the Toddler, the Kid, the Teenager? I’m not saying you have to name her right now, just start to think of some names both you and Bucky would like. She deserves a proper name.”  

“No! Not until Bucky is back home!” Steve snaps, his expression leaves no room for negotiation. Natasha just stares at him, waiting for Steve to cold down. He’s been snapping a lot more lately, and Natasha has become accustomed to being the one to handle Steve when he’s on edge. 

After a moment, Steve sighs and stares down at his daughter, “I just feel like there should be some parental instinct that should be kicking in, but there is nothing. I feel like I should be feeling something… But I’m not. I’m awful, because every time I look at her… I see Bucky, and I blame her for him being taken. I’m a terrible father! Blaming my baby for her mom being gone!” Steve collapses onto the edge of the bed next to Natasha. 

“You’re not a terrible father, Steve,” Natasha says as she rubs his back, while Steve buries his face in his hands. “You’re doing your best. We all know it’s hard for you right now… But Yasha would be so proud of you. We’re going to find him, and then he’ll be here to help name the pup,” 

Steve hides in his hands, the dog tags swinging and hitting his chest as he leans forward. The pup starts to cry, loudly wailing from her crib, each cry is like a knife to Steve’s heart, because he knows he can’t do anything about it. These cries are a pup crying out for her mother, but her mother isn’t here, he can’t hear her distressed cries. 

Natasha walks over to the crib, she reaches in and scoops the pup up and into her arm. Cradling the cub close to her chest, looking down lovingly, and shushing her quietly. 

“Shh, shh, little one. Мать is here,” Natasha bounces the pup lightly in her arms, looking completely infatuated with the infant. 

Steve freezes, lifting his face from his hands to stare at Natasha. Her back is to him, she’s focused on the baby, so he doesn’t notice Steve looking up from his hands and at her.

Steve’s anger starts to boil. Bucky hasn’t taught him much Russian, but he’s taught Steve enough to know what Мать means. Natasha doesn’t even realize what she just said. She doesn’t know Steve knows. Steve’s protective alpha instincts are flaring up. He growls in the back of this throat, standing up from the bed and to his full height. His enraged alpha pheromone stinking up the bedroom.

“Put. Her. Down.” He grits out, getting off the bed and standing to his full height. Natasha turns around to look at Steve, confused on what set him off. 

“Steve? What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Natasha stares at the pack alpha confused by the sudden change in his scent. 

“How dare you,” Steve punctuates with a snarl. 

“Steve? What’s wrong? You’re scaring the pup,” Natasha takes a step back, almost like she’s frightened. 

That sets Steve off. Natasha should not be the one concerning herself about the pup’s welfare. That’s Bucky's job. 

“I trusted you Natasha!” Steve hisses.

Natasha’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “I don’t know why that would have changed Steve.”

“Just admit you’re happy Bucky is gone!” Steve yells at Natasha, his scent growing putrid with anger. She stops, anger growing in her eyes, “You’re glad he’s gone because that means you can take his role. You can take over as the pup’s mother! We both know that’s why you stuck around, because you wanted what Bucky had. Well, you're not her mother, and you’ll never replace Bucky!”

“Is that really what you think?” Steve doesn’t think he’s ever heard Natasha sound so hurt, and for a second he regrets his words, “That I want to replace Bucky? Well that’s not true. I’ll admit Steve, I want a family. I want it more than anything. But that’s not why I am here. I’m here because I care for you, and Bucky, and the pup. I knew you’d both need help with the pup. Yasha deserves this, if anyone deserves their happy ending it’s him, and I knew that it would be hard for him to accept that. I’m here so I could protect Yasha, and I fail at that. So the best thing I can do to make it up to him is care for his pup and mate until we get him back. But if you don’t want me here anymore, Steve, I’ll go.” 

Natasha’s chest heaves large breaths as she finishes. She stares at Steve, almost expectantly, Steve doesn’t say anything to her. Natasha passes him the pup and shoves past Steve and storms out of the bedroom. A few seconds later Steve hears the apartment door slam. 

Suddenly it’s all too quiet. Not a noise echoing around the apartment. Not even the pup crying. 

Nothing. Quiet. 

It’s in the quiet that Steve's fear starts to cloud his mind. Bucky always kept this large, cold, modern apartment lively. Never quiet. Steve spent 70 years alone in the quiet. He never wanted to be cold, alone, and silent  again. But he is. Steve is alone, without Bucky again, cold, in an impersonal apartment that isn’t really home, and silent, not a peep can be heard, he’s not even sure he can hear his own breathing. 

Steve doesn’t want it to be quiet anymore. 

The jangle of thin metal against thin metal. One printed with Bucky’s name and serial number, the other printed with Steve’s. They exchanged dog tags long ago. It’s a rule that you can’t die with someone else's dog tags on you. So if they were wearing each other's tags, they couldn’t die. That didn’t stop Bucky from falling, and it didn’t stop Steve from crashing that plane. 

The soft clinking of metal, and a giggle. 

Steve looks down and sees the pup playing with his and Bucky’s dog tags. One tiny hand clutching the bead chain. She’s smiling and small coos and laughs bubble from her. The sounds warm Steve’s heart, he’s never heard the pup laugh before. 

Tears fall down Steve’s face, and he smiles down at his pup. Love flooding his scent.  A wet laugh escapes Steve as his pup plays with the tags between her small fingers. Maybe this is the parental instincts he’s been waiting for. The unconditional love and affection everyone says they feel when they first look at their pup.

“Yeah, you like those? They’re you Ma’s and mine. Fun little toy aren’t they?” Steve talks to the pup, it’s such a bitter sweet moment. 

Carefully with one hand Steve slips the dog tag over his head, the other cradling the pup close to his chest. Steve dangles the tag over the pup, who smiles and reaches for the necklace. Steve places them into her open hands. The pup immediately starts to teething on them, her big eyes staring up at Steve with wonder. 

The pup continues to play with the dog tags, almost like she knows who they belong to, like she is reaching out to Steve and Bucky. Like she’s trying to tell them she loves them.

And for that moment, Steve feels like everything is going to be okay. 

The pup keeps herself entertained with the dog tags for the rest of the night, refusing to let them leave her surprisingly strong grip. Steve gives the pup a bottle of Stark Baby Food, that Tony specifically designed when they told him Bucky was expecting. 

After a burping and a fight for his dog tags, Steve manages to put the pup down for the night. The pup has always been a fussy sleeper, a side effect due to the lack of omega hormones in her den, but right now she’s sleeping soundly. Steve’s nose twitches as a new scent enters his den. 

“Jesus, I don’t know what you said to piss Nat off so much, but I haven’t seen her this mad since Budapest,” Clint strides into the apartment. Steve didn’t even hear him come in. For a guy who can’t hear, Clint sure is quiet. 

“Why are you here Clint?” Steve asks, assuming he is here to chew Steve out on behalf of his mate. Natasha might be the alpha in the relationship, but Clint is just as protective as any alpha is of their omega, even though he’s a beta. 

“Well, I could say it’s ‘cause of Nat, but that’s not the truth,” Clint admits, hands casually stuffed into his pockets.

Steve looks up at the beta, perplexed by Clint’s odd way of communicating. “What is it?” Dread pools in Steve's stomach. His scent grows uneasy with fear. His mind traveling to the worst places. 

“It’s Bucky. We found him.” 

Chapter Text

“These fucking things are still leaking?!” One of the Asset’s handlers complains exasperated as he gropes the Asset’s chest. The all black tactical suit they the Asset in is too tight, uncomfortably squeezing in all the wrong places. 

“We’ve done everything we could to get them to stop. Beating, starving, injury, his body just keeps producing milk. It’s his inner omega, biology, getting in the way of him becoming the perfect asset,” A doctor, or scientists, the Asset doesn’t remember, chimes in. 

The Asset stands ramrod straight, staring ahead, but unseeing. Arms behind his back, the wrist of his flesh hand tightly gripped by his metal one. Expression perfectly neutral, not that it mattered, the black muzzle trapped around he face hiding most of his face anyway. He’s the picture of a perfect soldier.

Well, almost perfect. 

The Asset's body is still soft for some reason, it makes his handlers mad, he doesn’t know why. There is extra skin and fat clinging around his mid section. Thighs slightly thicker than the handlers want. But the thing that pisses off the handlers the most is his chest. Swollen, round, heavy, and leaking milk. They make it apparently clear that the Asset is an omega. A fact HYDRA kept hidden for nearly 70 years. 

The Asset tries not to crumble under the pressure of all the eyes on him. Doctors and scientists examine every inch of his body. Poking and prodding at it. Making comments about his swell, the scars that litter his body, how he’s an ugly omega. 

Something flashes inside the Asset’s mind, soft words telling him how beautiful he is, as soft kisses are pressed to each scar. Just as soon as the thought comes, the Asset’s mind feels like it’s on fire. White hot pain washing away whatever was there before.

“I thought the suppressants should have stopped this. They did before,” The handler laments.

“Well, that was before he was bred. Carrying changes an omega, both physical and mentally. The techniques we used to get him to comply before aren’t going to work the same now,” The researcher explains.

They talk about the Asst like he’s not there. Like he doesn’t have ears to hear them. It’s not like the Asset has a mother to tell them off. Or the mind to fully understand what is going on around him. The Asset only engages when directly addressed.

The handler pulls at the collar of the tactical suite, exposing the Asset’s neck. He carefully inspects the Asset’s throat, a look of disdain plastered on his face, his nose scrunched up as he takes in the Asset’s scent. 

Right where the Asset’s shoulder meets his neck is a myriad of angry, red scars. It almost looks like a lightning strike running down his skin and through his veins. The Asset doesn’t remember what was underneath the scarring, but he knows it was important, and he knows this is the second time his handlers have had to get rid of it. The Asset remembers the burning pain as he was injected right where the lightning scar starts. The Asset remembers how it felt like a part of him was dying. 

The back of a hand makes hard contact with the Asset’s face, snapping him out of his… what he supposes are memories. 

Oh, the Asset must have missed something…

“Soldat! The handler snaps, “I said at ease!” The Asset immediately reacts to the order. His at ease position is not much different than before. The only difference is that his hands are at his side. The handler scoffs at the Asset, muttering something about how he is a poor excuse of a soldier. 

“He still needs fixing. He’s not ready for the mission yet,” The handler turns to talk with the other man. 

“We’ll up his suppressant dosage, and take him back to the chair,” The scientist looks down at the chart on his clipboard, flipping through some papers. 

“That’s not going to be enough, you said it before, the bitch has changed since Rogers fucked a pup into him.” 

What? Rogers? Who’s that? Why is that name so familiar? Were they talking about the Asset? Who fucked a pup into the Asset? 

“Who’s Rogers?” The words leave the Asset’s mouth before he even realizes what he’s saying. In fact he doesn’t even know what he is saying. The two words are spoken quietly behind the muzzle, but somehow he is heard.

The burning in his mind is back, wrapping its tentacles around whatever thought was passing through the Asset’s mind and crushing it until the Asset has forgotten he was ever thinking at all. 

When the Asset comes back to himself and is aware of his surroundings once more he realizes the previously arguing scientist and handler are staring at him. In fact everyone in the room is looking at him. 

The handler’s face goes red in anger, staring at the disobeying Asset with rage. The handler turns to face the scientist, snapping out orders, “I don’t care what you do, but fix him! Drug him up so much he’ll forget he ever was an omega, and put a stop to this omega biology bullshit!”

“Sir, you’re not suggesting we…”

“That’s exactly what I am suggesting. The only reason we didn’t do it before is because we figured we’d be the ones breeding him. 

“Sir, but the effects that procedure could have on him are extreme-,” The handler cuts off the scientist. He’s done with this scientific medical bullshit. His Asset needs to be corrected, put back in his place, by any means necessary. 

“I don't care! Ready your team for the procedure, and that’s an order!” The handler turns to some guards in the room, “Wipe him. I want him to even be able to scream when you're done with him!”

The Asset tenses up. He knows he’s disobeyed an order, and a very important order at that. He is a terrible soldat. He can’t even follow the simplest of orders. He deserves his punishment. He knows he does, but the Asset still does not want to go back to that room, to that chair. But good Assets don’t want. 

The Asset knows better than to fight as the tip of a rifle is shoved into his back. An unspoken order to move. The Asset starts walking, he knows the way to that room well. He doesn’t even need to think about what corridors to walk down or what turns to take.

There are two sets of heavy boots behind the Asset, two armed alphas following close behind him. This must be what it feels like to walk to the firing squad. The Asset doesn’t know which is more of a punishment.

The Asset stops in front of the heavy, reinforced door that leads to the chair. One of the guards swipes a keycard and the door slides open. The Asset is told to move again by the rifle being poked into his back once again. 

Inside the room is always the same. A strange green tint to the light, the lingering smell of vomit and blood, mixed with bleach. The chair sits in the middle of the room, its metal glinting ominously the light. 

It doesn't take much to get the Asset into the chair, he knows it will be easier if he complies. The machine clamps around his arms. Locking him in, reminding him there is no escape. The muzzle is unhooked from the Asset’s face, and he takes a shuddering breath in. One of the guards presents the mouth guard before the Asset, he opens his mouth automatically. Which gets a laugh from the guards.

“What a good bitch opening your mouth for anyone who asks,” The guard berates, shoving the mouth guard into the Asset’s awaiting mouth. 

After that the machine tilts the Asset back and the halo begins to spin before coming down over the Asset’s face. It locks into place just like the arm restraints. The guards head over to the control panel, one picks up the red book. 

They turn on the electricity. The Asset screams.

The Asset’s mind is blank, the only thing his mind and body can process is the pain of the electricity coursing through his body. Everything becomes fuzzy. The Asset doesn’t know where he is, who he is, what he is. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to remember. The Asset doesn’t even know if he’s screaming. 

“Желание.” 

 “Ржавый.” The guards read from the book. Cranking up the electricity each time a word is spoken. 

“Семнадцать.”

 “Рассвет.” 

 “Печь.” The Asset screams, the words digging into his brain, crawling under his skin and cleaning his mind.

“Девять.”

“Возвращение на родину.” 

“Один.” 

“Грузовой вагон.” 

The electricity stops. The Asset stops screaming, but the sounds of heavy pants fill the room. The guards study the sweaty form and heaving chest of the Asset. The smell of a distressed omega stinks up the room. It’s an unpleasant smell, despite how many times the HYDRA agents have smelled it. The guards wait until the Asset’s breathing has evened out a bit.

“Soldat?” One of the alpha guards asks, 

“Я готов отвечать.”

Once the guards deem the Asset corrected enough the guards secure the muzzle back on and take the Asset back to his cell. The small concrete room is always cold, somehow colder than the rest of the base. 

The two guards chain the Asset up. This is part of depositing the Asset. His Vibranium arm must be secured into a metal cuff attached to a short chain in the wall. This prevents the Asset using his weapon of an arm against his handlers. 

The Asset curls up in the corner of the six by six room. The chain barely lets him move around at all. The Asset wishes his handlers would put him back under. The mind numbing cold of cryofreeze is like being pulled under the surface of icy waters. Cold filling his lungs until the last breath, and nothing anymore. The Asset is tired and wants to be pulled under again.

The universe grants the Asset a small mercy and pulls him under into sleep.

The Asset dreams of pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes and soft lips. Hands cradling his face and pressing into those soft lips. The Asset dreams of small hands with small fingers, a splotch of black hair, and rosy cheeks. The Asset dreams of love.

The Asset is woken up by an ice cold bucket of water being thrown onto him. This is HYDRA’s excuse for cleaning him. The occasional hose down or bucket of water. 

Today is a feeding day. The Asset’s weekly feedings take place in another room. Where he is strapped to a table and a doctor opens up the gastrostomy tube HYDRA has to reinstall in him. 

That’s why the Asset was confused by the fact that when the guards pulled him from his cells, his handler led him to a different room than the feeding room. Instead the handle led him towards the medical wing of the base. 

A sinking, uneasy feeling settled into the Asset’s gut. He was never in the medical wing for good reasons. When he was injured the injury was left to heal on its own, no matter the severity. The Asset hasn’t been in the medical wing in months, or what he thought were months. The Asset can’t perceive time anymore.

The handler takes the Asset to the operating room. Inside people in scrubs, with masks they chose to wear, walk around preparing for surgery. The handler stops, the Asset stops exactly three paces behind him. Standing at attention, hands clasped behind his back, ready for orders.

The scientist from yesterday and the handler begin to speak. The Asset doesn’t pay attention to what they are saying. He lets his mind drift off into the white abyss of his psyche. 

Eventually the scientist and the handler stop speaking, having come to some sort of concussion. The handler looks back at the Asset, still standing perfectly straight, eyes glazed over. It makes him smirk, the Asset is behaving much better than he was yesterday, this will put them one step closer to controlling the Asset completely and permanently.

“Strip,” The handler orders, and the Asset immediately follows. Removing each piece of tactical gear from his body, folding it neatly before placing it on the floor by his feet. The handler’s eye scan over the Asset’s body. It’s not a pretty thing to look at, but he is just an alpha after all, and they don’t get a lot of omega around the base. 

Once the Asset is bare, he is ordered onto the table. As he lays down he is strapped to the table. The handler stands above the Asset, smiling. The handler removes the Asset’s muzzle, he likes to hear each whimper and pained sound the Asset makes. 

The handler steps back, nodding at the team of doctors and nurses, “You may begin.”

Once the order is given, the doctors approve the Asset, hovering over him. The light shines down into the Asset’s eye, backlights the doctors, giving them a strange demonic look. Some surgical drapes are laid over some of the Asset’s skin. The doctor is handed the scalpel, the sharp tip poised against his skin. The first incision was made. 

It’s only as the scalpel sinks into his skin, does the Asset become somewhat aware of what is going on. A cry slips past the Asset’s lips, he tries to thrash around, but the straps prevent the Asset from moving an inch.  

The Asset tries to comply, not make a sound, but as the doctors make more cuts into him, dig deeper under his flesh, the Asset loses control. Soon pleas start to fall from the Asset’s lips. 

“Пожалуйста… Please, no, no. нет I- I don’t want. Stop. Please останавливаться.” The whimpers and scent of a pained omega fill the surgical theater. The Asset makes a long deep whimper. A call for a mate. When an omega is in extreme distress they can make a cry to call out for their mate. Why would the Asset be calling for a mate?

The surgeon pays the Asset no mind, just continues on with the procedure. Pinning the Asset’s flesh back, getting closer to the final goal. The Asset’s blood runs down his hips, pooling around his thighs. 

The Asset looks down as the doctor makes the final cut, effectively severing the organ from the Asset’s body. The Asset watches as the doctor removes the organ from inside him. The doctor places the Asset’s uterus onto an awaiting tray. 

Seeing this part of him fully removed makes the Asset let out the worst cry yet. It breaks something in the Asset he didn’t know was there to break. Tears soak the Asset’s face as he begs. He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for anymore. He doesn’t take his eyes away from the organ on the tray. Not even as the surgeon haphazardly sews him back to back together. 

Eventually the doctors are finished with him, the Asset doesn’t remember the rest of the surgery. The restraints are removed and the Asset is ordered to stand. He stumbles off that table and onto shaky legs. The second he tries to move the Asset collapses onto the floor, sobbing in pain. The handler scoffs at the Asset, rolling his eyes.

The Asset is dragged back to his cell. One agent holding onto each arm, his knees slamming into the concrete floors, but it’s no pain compared to the pain in his gut. 

The Asset is dumped into his cell, they don’t chain him up this time. Probably because the agents don’t see him as a threat right now. The Asset crawls into his corner. His arms wrap around his lower abdomen. He feels incredibly empty. The Asset cries until he passes out from the pain.

The Asset is left to recover in his cell for all of three days. Before he knows it, he is standing at attention before his handler once more. The handler is smiling at the Asset and talking at him, saying something about how well he responded to the last round of treatment. 

“I think you’re ready for your first mission back as the Winter Soldier. Don’t you agree, Soldat?” The handler is not really asking the Asset. A good soldat doesn’t have opinions. 

“Я готов отвечать,” The Asset responds automatically. 

“Here is your target,” The handler shows the Asset a picture of his new assignment, "Eliminate Captain America’s daughter,” The handler smiles a wicked smile. The Asset stares ahead, no recognition in his gaze.

“Я готов отвечать.”