Our Help Hotline is Available 24/7

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/7077979.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: M/M
Fandom: Captain America (Movies), The Losers - All Media Types
Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Jake
Jensen
Character: Jake Jensen, James "Bucky" Barnes
Additional Tags: Crossover, Memory Loss, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jake
Jensen is Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers is Captain America, Jake
Jensen is not Captain America, Wait-what?, Canon-Typical Violence,
Fluff, Jake Jensen to the Rescue, Timeline What Timeline, Post-
Avengers (2012), Pre-The Losers (Movie)
Language: English
Series: Part 3 of Amnesiacs Anonymous
Stats: Published: 2016-06-03 Words: 2,985 Chapters: 2/2

Our Help Hotline is Available 24/7

by Stoic_Zee

Summary

Jake's having a family emergency. His sister is creative. He knows she can think of
something to tell his boss when he calls. Jake has more important things to worry about like
a Hydra compound that needs raiding and a boyfriend that needs rescuing.

Notes

Sadly, this story is rated for casual violence and not for anything fun. However, Chapter 2
is fluffiest thing I have ever written.

Also, this story is set before Jake joins the Losers but after he's been in the Army for a
while.
 Chapter 1

Jake watched as the security team started a new shift. The patrol pattern hadn’t varied in ten hours
since he started surveillance, but as much as it killed him to wait, he couldn’t take any chances.
Jake was on his own, no team, no back up. If they captured him, no one was coming for him, and
worse, no one would be coming for James.

Jake waited for the new shift to settle into their rhythm and took the opportunity to double-check
his arsenal. Two years of active military service and he still forgot his gun whenever possible—
much to his brother-in-law’s dismay and that of his teammates—but today he had enough
ammunition to compete with Neo in The Matrix, though he lacked a kickass black trench coat.

Taking a steadying breath, Jake slipped into Mission Mode and started the long journey across the
yard and into the main compound. The thing was, on missions anyway, Jake didn’t need to make
noise the way he usually did. His senses were always on high alert, and he always noticed
everything. But unlike usual, when that information shattered into dark and cold and thundering
cracks the like the bones of the Earth breaking in his ears, focus came easily in combat.

Still, the first few times he had gone actual missions, his team at the time had freaked out so much
at the silence from his comm that he had made the executive decision to keep up the commentary
unless it would get someone dead. After a few months, talking on missions was habit, and he knew
the team usually appreciated the heads-up that he was alive and working. A few commanders had
even been able to rescue him a few times from a nasty fate when he abruptly went silent on the
line. (Except for that time when they decided he was dead and blew up the building with him
inside of it. But Jake never brought it up voluntarily because James, Jenna, and Jenna’s sainted
husband, always looked ready to commit murder at the thought.)

Outside of combat, the only time Jake never felt the need to talk was when he was watching over
his niece or when he was with James. Em was a tiny spark of joy and laughter that kept even the
worst of the darkness at bay. James was something else. James radiated a sense of home and safety
that completely overwhelmed Jake’s overclocked brain and let him relax. He had never needed to
fill the silence when the scent of James or the sound of his breathing or the heat of his body had
told him exactly when and where and who he was, or as close as it was possible to know. Better
yet, James enjoyed listening to Jake babble when he did find something to talk about. He said it
was grounding. Amnesiac coping mechanisms for the win!

Jake got inside the compound without anyone noticing him, which was the goal. He would need to
kill the guards on the way back out, but the longer he could coast under the radar, the easier it
would be to get to James.

A faint chime in his ear told him he had cracked the wireless system. They were using Stark tech,
which wasn’t a bad idea, even the old stuff was years ahead of the competition, but bad guys
weren’t eligible for security updates, so it was easy for his cracker program to gain remote access.
He slipped into a shadowed corner, pulled out his tablet—which he had also cobbled together with
scavenged Stark tech but at least had the sense to keep it up to date as much as possible—and
searched until found a basic layout of the network systems of the base. It was almost as good as a
map.

Jake identified the probable location of the security control room and silently made his way there.
He killed the guard outside the room by casually sauntering up and slicing his throat open before
the man could process his appearance. He killed the one who opened the door at his knock the
same way, and the man who looked up at sound of the body hitting the floor got the knife thrown
into his eye.

Of the two remaining men, one reached for the alarm and the other for a gun. Jake shot the one
going for the alarm, once in the chest and once in the head blowing him away from the console.
That gave the last man time to draw his weapon but not enough time to aim, and when Jake turned
toward him, the evil minion’s shot went wide. He went down with two shots to center mass. He
was still groping for a gun and trying to force the words “Hail, Hydra” past blood-stained lips
when Jake shot him neatly in the forehead.

“Room secure,” murmured Jake quietly.

It was too easy sometimes—not in the emotional department, because Jake felt faint regret about
killing but he never felt bad about killing to protect others, especially James—but from a physical
standpoint Jake was only a little weaker and a little slower than the infamous Winter Soldier. They
had figured out that he could become stronger and faster if he ate more, but Jake’s initial reason for
eating less—not wanting to eat the nice lady who basically adopted him (a.k.a. Jenna, best sister
ever) out of house and home—had landed him in peak condition for a man his presumed age and
suddenly growing in strength would be strange. Neither Jake nor James wanted him to attract more
attention from the US government, not until they knew exactly who Jake used to be.

He connected his tablet to the console and within minutes had full access to the base’s security
network—unfortunately the experiments were all on self-contained networks—and an actual map
of the compound. From what he could tell, there were only about twenty remaining security
minions, including the five on the outside perimeter, but there were almost forty scientists, most
whom he was pretty sure fell into the evil-not-helpless category and probably had access to
weapons and chemicals more dangerous than Jake’s handful of guns.

Unfortunately, there were no helpful “Winter Soldier is here” labels on any of the rooms, and the
signal transmitter in his arm wasn’t that accurate. Jake would definitely be fixing that problem
later, probably a lot later because James was always twitchy about letting Jake work on his arm
after he was captured.

Jake cued up the security cameras, automatically transferring the feeds to his tablet, and settled for
looking through the cameras one at a time. Most of the cameras displayed empty hallways. There
was a set of barracks, something that could have doubled for a cafeteria, and lots of labs containing
one or two scientists huddled over computer screens. One camera displayed half-a-dozen or so men
in lab coats around a table with a few scattered security personnel, and for a moment Jake was
ready to dismiss it as a break room of some kind—even bad guys had to eat, a fact which many
missions often hinged on depressingly enough—but there were no chairs and there were too many
monitors, and he had already seen the cafeteria.

A flicker of movement from what he initially thought was table drew Jake’s attention. There was
person struggling in something like the dentist’s chair from hell and his face was all covered but
even in the crummy black and white of the security cameras Jake could see the flash of metal from
the left shoulder, and it was James, and Jake felt rage.

Jake didn’t exactly lose time after that. In fact, he remembered every single second with perfect
clarity. He simply entered what he would later describe to Jenna—without any of the gorier details
—as an altered state of consciousness. He took his tablet and his gun and proceeded to kill
everyone in the building as he made his way down to the basement.

Hitting the room in question, Jake took out the security personnel first, who had been there to
protect the scientists from James and weren’t expecting an assault from the door, and their surprise
made it easy as shooting fish in a barrel. The scientists huddled around James barely had time to do
more than scream before Jake gunned them down too.

But killing them didn’t turn off the machine, and Jake didn’t even think before he was across the
room and ripping it off James’ head and into tiny, tiny pieces. (He may have gotten zapped a few
times before he remembered to yank the power cord, but James was too out of it to notice, and Jake
wasn’t about to go around telling people.)

Jake stared down at his boyfriend, mind and body temporarily frozen in horror, he had bloody
mouth from cracked teeth and electrical burns, but James’ super healing was already taking care of
those. Worse, he had a glazed, practically vacant expression in his eyes. Jake carefully, very, very
carefully, cupped the side of James’ face and ran a thumb across his cheekbone.

“Let’s get you out of here, pal.”

Either the touch or the noise got James’ attention. He blinked and stared at Jake in blurry
confusion.

“Steve?” came the dry rasp from a screamed-out throat.

Jake’s breath caught in his throat. “Nope. But that’s okay. You get one free pass on the name. I got
one when we first met, now it’s your turn.”

“Jay?” It was an inquiring sound more than a word, but it was his name.

“Yeah, that’s right. Let’s blow this popsicle stand and head home, Okay?” said Jake.

“Hmm,” mumbled James slowly lifting himself out of the chair. “Jen? Em?”

“That’s right,” said Jake holding out a hand for James to use as leverage if he chose. He knew
better than to get too grabby after James had a run-in with mad scientists. “Jenna’s. Home. You and
me and the girls. But first you gotta get up. Okay? I don’t think I can carry you and shoot at the
same time.”

James took Jake’s hand and let him pull him out of the chair. James swayed dangerously in place
for a minute or so, but his eyes were starting to clear.

“Gun,” said James holding out his metal hand.

Jake gave him dubious look, but the metal arm was steady—steadiest part of him when it came
down to it—and James was looking a little hunted, totally understandable given the situation. Jake
passed him a gun and slipped an extra clip into his pocket because even mind-fucked James knew
the importance of extra ammo.

“No shooting me and no shooting you, O.K.?” asked Jake.

“Kay,” said James still sounding a little fuzzy but so earnestly determined that Jake had to smile a
little bit.

He glanced at the room. The entire set-up threatened to bring back the mind numbing rage. He
pulled out his tablet and connected it to the computer network, ready to wipe out all information on
the memory machine…

Only there weren’t just technical details on this system. There were stored mission reports too.
Unlike other places, which had been designed for temporary storage, this location must have been
a base for the Winter Soldier for a long time. Jake looked at James, who checking the ammo-clip
for his gun clearly feeling better, and downloaded all of the information to his computer (thank you
extra RAM). James could look at it later, if he wanted.

Jake then proceeded to wipe the computers clean and plant a shaped charge on the chair.

“Is that C-4?” asked James sounding amused.

“I couldn’t get enough for the whole building without someone noticing,” said Jake herding him
out of the room. “But I made sure I brought enough if we found one of those.” He held out the
detonator. “Would you like to do the honors?”

James took the transmitter then looked at the now-closed door and their exposed position in the
hall. “Won’t someone notice?”

Jake shrugged. “Only the ones that are still alive. And I figure, why waste time looking for them,
when as hosts, they should come to us?”

James smiled. “You are my favorite,” he said and hit the button.
 Chapter 2

“Stark Industries Technical Support Center. This is Casey. How may I help you today?”

“Hi, Casey, I’m Jake. I was wondering if this phone call could be recorded to improve customer
service, not that you aren’t doing a great job, it would just make me feel a lot better,” he said trying
to match her level of perky.

“I can do that. No problem,” said Casey after only the briefest hesitation. There was just the tiniest
click, a hint of static on the line, Jake smiled fondly at the sweet sounds of wiretapping. “There we
go. This whole conversation will be recorded. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Alright, bear with me just a minute. This is going to sound kind of weird. You may have to bump
me up to a supervisor at some point, and I won’t hold it against you.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Casey. Still perky but probably thinking nasty thoughts at him.

“Alright, so I am part of Spec Ops team, the kind that does slightly illegal things in places we’re
really not supposed to be, especially since we’re American, but we do them to bad guys, so it’s
mostly okay. And my team has just raided one of these places and effectively shut it down for the
moment. But on the way in, I noticed a lot of the stuff these guys are using is recycled Stark tech.
Now, I know Stark Industries doesn’t manufacture weapons anymore, but a lot of that stuff is still
out there on the black market because it’s made really, really well.

“Anyway, the thing is, since my team isn’t really supposed to be here, we can’t do anything to any
of this stuff. If we blow it up, it’ll compromise our mission. And if we leave it here, other bad guys
will eventually show up and haul it away to use again. So we’re all debating about what to do with
all of this stuff, and I remember that Iron Man made this huge deal about not leaving his weapons
in the hands of terrorists. And I am really hoping that he will want to clean this up. Still with me,
Casey?”

There was a moment of quiet from the other end and then a sheepish, “You know, I’ve worked here
for three years and I’ve never gotten one of these calls, so I can’t remember how to turn on the
program that tracks where you’re calling from.”

Jake made a sympathetic noise. “I can imagine they don’t happen too often. But that’s okay, I’m
not calling from a phone in the facility anyway. Are you still recording?”

“I really am,” said Casey fervently.

“That’s good,” said Jake then he rattled of a set of coordinates he had burned into his memory the
moment James trigged his emergency transponder. “So that’s where I am. Also, there are some…
empty labs with running experiments, so whoever comes will need to be prepared for that. And my
team won’t be here because our presence is still illegal despite bad guys.”

“Right,” said Casey nervous but still perky. “Is there anything else I can do for you, while I have
you on the line?”

“Nope, that’s all I needed,” said Jake.

“And would you mind rating your call to our Support Center on a scale of one to ten before you
go?” asked Casey falling back on her script.
“Oh, you definitely turned it up to eleven,” said Jake. “Thanks for your help.”

“Thank you for calling,” said Casey.

Jake ended the call feeling pretty good with himself and immediately started ripping the phone to
pieces.

“I cannot believe you,” said James from the bed. “Stark Technical Support?”

Jake beamed at him. “I would have called SHIELD, except I don’t have their number, and I’m
fairly sure their tech-support operators aren’t as cute.”

James scowled. “How do you know she was cute?”

“She sounded cute,” said Jake. He opened a window and pitched the pieces of the phone into the
river then moved to join James on the bed, comfortably certain that, even if Stark could somehow
trace the encrypted call, that the cruise-boat would have them well down the river by the time the
man reached Europe.

“But, cute isn’t really my thing. Except you know, Beth, in an adorable niece-like way and not a
weird, pedo-way where the only response would be death-by-a-thousand-cuts.” Jake frowned. “I
should really stop talking now, except I’m not sure how to get back to my point.”

James rolled his eyes and tugged him down on to the bed. “If cute isn’t your thing, then what is?”

“You,” said Jake.

“Is that it?” asked James. He sounded sarcastic but he looked pleased.

“Yeah,” said Jake not even needing to think about it.

“Good,” confirmed James. “You’re my type too.”

One heavy make-out session later, sadly they were both too tired for more, and James was dozing
lightly with his head directly over Jake’s heart and his metal arm curled protectively around Jake’s
stomach. Jake thought about the information on the tablet.

When this sort of thing happened before, he had always focused on getting James and getting out.
But Hydra had files on James. Mission files, status reports on the Winter Soldier project, and
maybe in there somewhere was James’ original identity. It was worth looking into.

Jake curled ran his fingers through James’ hair and smiled at the sleepy grumble. It was worth
looking into…in the morning.

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