Bucky didn't believe in fate, but he did believe in karma, and boy did he start laughing when FBI Agent Wilson was dropped in his cell. He laughed so hard there were tears in his eyes and he only stopped when he needed to breathe.

"Real mature, man," Wilson grumbled. He hadn't moved from his spot by the door, but he had folded his arms over his chest in―what Bucky assumed was―an attempt to look less pathetic.

"God, this makes up for it all, you know?" Bucky gestured to him. "All is forgiven because this―" He waved again at Wilson― "is one hundred percent worth the extra hassle."

"How did you do it?" Wilson asked, still looking as happy as a raccoon with rabies.

"How did I do what?" Bucky laughed. "Get you as a roommate?"

"No," Wilson snapped. "Switch the egg. Tell Interpol I wasn't with the FBI. All of it."

Bucky just whistled lowly and shook his head. "You did it yourself as soon as you asked the Bishop for help. She always loved a good double-cross."

"She?" Wilson echoed.

Bucky raised a brow. "What? You thought the Bishop was a guy?"

Wilson had the decency not to respond. While Bucky was quick to forgive anyone who mistook him for a girl―the long hair tended to do that to a guy―he was even quicker to defend the Bishop. At the very least he had respect for his greatest enemy, the only one to ever best him and the only one to ever earn his genuine love and respect.

"So, what?" Wilson asked. "You and the Bishop are just fighting over some egg that's thousands of years old and I got in the way? Is that what this is? Some messed up game of capture the flag?"

"If capture the flag ended in Egypt and with the winner six million dollars richer."

Wilson's eyes bulged and his arms dropped from his chest.

"What?"

"You haven't heard?" Bucky teased. Wilson's eyes narrowed. "Some American diplomat is celebrating his engagement and wants to give his fiancée all three of Cleopatra's lost eggs. Anyone who brings him all three gets a reward of six million dollars."

Wilson stared at him.

"The Bishop and I have been after them for a while now," Bucky admitted. What harm could it do at this point? "Now that she's got us both out of the way, she can make her move on the other two."

"You're lying," Wilson grumbled. Bucky raised an eyebrow. "No one knows where the third egg is. No one has found it."

"They aren't looking in the right places."

"Oh, and I imagine you are?" Wilson retorted.

"You think I would risk crossing Interpol if I wasn't already sure I had all three eggs in my basket?" Bucky asked. Wilson didn't look half as amused at his joke as Bucky felt like he should, but he was willing to cut him a break just this once. The poor federal agent had just been dropped in the middle of a Siberian prison.

"Whatever, man," Wilson muttered. "You're stuck here now."

"Am I?"

Leaving Wilson on that note, Bucky knocked on the cell door and happily left ex-Agent Wilson on his own.

* * * * *

The best part about being in Siberia was that Bucky knew exactly what was expected from him. The inmates were easy; they all held grudges and were just as quick to pick a fight as in any other prison. The guards expected trouble; where there wasn't any, they would make some. If Bucky stirred it up first, though, they wouldn't have time to plan for it, and when it came to stirring up trouble, Bucky was perfectly in his element.

Making trouble in a prison was an art, but it was one that Bucky had long since perfected. He had to time it right and he had to have the right victim or end up with a black eye, but when he found ex-Agent Wilson sitting alone in the prison cafeteria, he felt like he'd just been offered a million dollars and good luck wishes.

"Since you're here for a while," Bucky said, dropping into the seat across from Wilson, "it'd be good for you to learn some prison etiquette."

Wilson raised an eyebrow skeptically, but Bucky had an agenda and this time, ex-Agent Wilson wouldn't fuck it up.

"The most important thing is that no one here finds out you're a cop," he said. Wilson's eyes narrowed. "These guys will tear you apart. If anyone asks, you just tell them nyet policija. Say it with me now: nyet policija. "

Wilson swatted at him as he raised his voice.

"Knock it off," he hissed.

"Nyet policija!" Bucky repeated, louder. "Got that? This guy: not a cop. Nyet polici―hey!"

Wilson yanked him down into his seat and scowled at him.

"What are you doing, man?" he hissed. "They're not stupid."

The cafeteria had fallen silent amidst Bucky's not-quite-shouting. Wilson sure could whisper, though.

A couple of tables down, a man got to his feet. Wilson's glare darkened and Bucky stared back blankly as the man made his way to their table.

"You cop?" the man grunted.

"Look, man, I don't want trouble," Wilson said, looking up at the man. "There's been a misunderstanding and my friend here―" He glared at Bucky― "is just joking."

Either the man didn't believe Wilson or Bucky's previous theory about the inmates being punch-happy was true. Wilson had hardly finished his sentence before the man swung at his head.

In a roar, several other inmates jumped to their feet and the guards rushed to intervene. Wilson―bless his soul―managed to avoid the first swing at his face only to be nailed with a second. Bucky ducked out of the way as Wilson retaliated with a hit and knocked the inmate off his feet.

"Alright," Bucky hummed. It was impressive, but he wasn't going to give Wilson the satisfaction of hearing him say so.

Ducking past a guard, Bucky quickly got out of the mess of the fight and made his way back to his cell. Wilson would follow soon enough, but for the moment being, Bucky had what he needed. As long as that FBI bastard wasn't too good to stop him from getting out of this prison, he'd be home free.

It was a pity the Bishop had to step in again.

It was a bit of a miracle that Wilson was in a slightly less bitter mood when she finally did act, but again, Bucky didn't believe in fate or any of the related bullshit.

"Now look what you've done," Wilson grumbled as they were escorted through the prison halls. "That little fight you started? It's gonna get us punished."

"I don't recall starting a fight," Bucky replied. "If I remember correctly, I didn't throw a single punch."

"Yeah," Wilson snickered, "cause you were too busy running."

Their conversation was cut off as they were pushed into the director's office and forced to sit in front of his desk. The guards left, leaving their wrists bound and the office empty. As soon as the door clicked shut, the desk chair spun around and she was grinning at them.

"Miss me?"

She was all red hair, red lips, and sharp white teeth, but Bucky had never seen anyone more enticing. She was everything he remembered, but nothing like it at all. With her legs kicked up on the desk and her head tucked under a furry shapka, she was almost too much to handle.

"Damn, director?" he asked, hoping his admiration didn't show too much. "Ever think of a career change? You could do so much more than run a prison with legs like those."

"I don't think she's the actual director," Wilson muttered beside him.

"No fucking shit," Bucky snapped. "It's the Bishop."

"Bingo," she cheered, giving Bucky an oh-so-tempting grin. God, she was going to be the end of him one of these days and he wouldn't even regret it.

"You double-crossed me," Wilson accused sharply. "How the hell did you do it?"

"Oh, please." The Bishop laughed softly. "All I had to do was intercept a call. It was an amateur's job."

"It was the FBI," Wilson reminded her drily.

The Bishop shrugged halfheartedly. "As I said: an amateur's job."

"What are you doing here?" Bucky asked, drawing the Bishop's attention back to him. "Have you just come to brag?"

"No, not quite," the Bishop admitted.

Good, Bucky thought drily. She had cheated anyway. There was no point in bragging about having to cut corners.

"I have a proposition," she told him. Her legs slipped off the desk and she stood up, leaning against the desk as she told them, "I already have one of the eggs in my hands and I'll be leaving to get the second one here shortly, but you're the only one who knows where the third is. You tell me where it is and I'll get you out of here. Your little FBI friend here will even drop all charges on you."

"Now, hold on just one minute―"

She cut Wilson off with a raise of her hand and gave Bucky an expectant look.

"I don't know where the third egg is," he told her, "and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"I'll give you ten percent of the reward money," she bargained. Bucky narrowed his eyes. "Of course, you can stay here and think about it. I'll be back after I get the second egg, but by then, I'll no longer be offering up part of the reward money. Just a way out."

"As much as I would love to work with you," Bucky said, "I really don't know where the third egg is."

The Bishop sighed and pushed away from the desk. "You have three days to figure out how to lie better than that. I'll see you then."

"Wait, ma'am―Barnes, you can't just throw―Ma'am!"

The Bishop was already at the door, though, and Wilson's attempts to dissuade her fell on deaf ears. She knocked on the door and it was promptly pulled open to reveal who Bucky assumed was the real director.

"Labor duty for them both," she told the man, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'll be back in three days."

With a sly smirk and a brief wave of her fingers, the Bishop disappeared around the corner and Bucky felt all the warmth inside him go with her.