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“I have eyes on.” Clint’s voice in Steve’s ear is quiet.
“Do you have a shot?” Steve asks.
“Take a step to your left and I will.”
“Okay.” Steve says. Then he stays in the same position, except he moves forward.
“Whatcha doing, Cap?” Sam demands.
“Damn it, Rogers, you said you weren’t compromised!” Natasha snaps.
“I’m not.” Steve responds calmly. “We just have different missions.” Then he pulls the comm out of his ear and tucks it into his pocket.
He steps forward cautiously. Now that Clint’s pointed it out, Steve can see the sun glinting off metal. Bucky.
“Just let them shoot me.” Bucky says when Steve gets closer.
“Not going to happen.” Steve keeps his voice light, almost cheerful. Bucky frowns at him.
“Why not?”
“You know why.”
Bucky looks away. “Steve.”
“Come on, Buck. You know I can’t leave here without you.” Steve can see dark circles under Bucky’s eyes. His cheeks are gaunt and his metal arm is hanging stiffly at his side. Steve’s fingers itch with the urge to reach out and pull Bucky close.
“Didn’t you hear?” Bucky asks with a twisted grin. “I’m a rabid dog. I need to be put down.”
Fury had, in fact, used that term to describe Bucky, and Bucky must have been listening, keeping surveillance on them in the year he’d been on the run. It burns even worse to hear Bucky say it about himself. Steve takes another step closer to Bucky. Bucky’s breathing is ragged and he’s holding himself strangely. Steve suspects an injury in his side—ribs, maybe?
“You’re not a dog.” Steve says firmly. “You’re James Buchannan Barnes and I’m Steven Grant Rogers and as long as I’m breathing I’m coming for you.” He hadn't, technically, been breathing while he'd been frozen, so he figures he can still make that promise.
“You’re better without me.” Bucky is blinking fast, too fast, and Steve can see Bucky’s lips tightening to avoid tears.
“That’s never been true.” Steve tells him softly. Bucky loses the battle and Steve can see the sheen in his eyes.
“You don’t need me to fight bullies for you anymore, Steve. You can do it yourself.”
“I need you to keep me from getting too serious, Buck. I need you to make sure I eat. I need you to make sure I laugh. You’re the one who always made sure I was taking care of myself instead of getting too focused. Remember?”
“No,” Bucky insists. It’s a lie. Steve knows what Bucky looks like when he’s lying. He knows what Bucky looks like when he’s happy, sad, angry, lying, sleeping, feeling insecure, in love, about to punch out some dope on the train. He knows it all.
“Please come with me.” Steve begs. He’s not usually one to beg but this is Bucky and Steve’s begged him plenty over the years.
“Come where?” Bucky asks softly. “S.H.I.E.L.D.?”
“Nope. I’m not trying to bring you in, Bucky. I’m trying to bring you home.” Steve is close enough to reach out a hand and put it on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky sucks in a breath and Steve can feel him trembling.
“I don’t know if I can.” Bucky whispers.
“What are you afraid of?” Steve asks. It used to be Bucky’s line—a dare he’d taunt Steve with to make him jump off the dock or try a drink.
“I could hurt you, Steve. I could kill you. And you know it.” Bucky pushes away from him, scolding in full force. “You see my face and you think it’s me, but I’m—Steve, most days I wake up and I don’t know who I am, I don’t know where I am, all I know is I’m not supposed to be here and I…” He bites his lip. “You’re safer if you let them shoot me.”
Steve steps closer again. “We’ll get you help.” He insists. “You remember Howard? His son’s as smart as he was. Smarter, even. He’ll help us figure something out.”
“I killed so many people.” Bucky’s voice is a broken thing and the jagged edges tear at Steve. He flinches but refuses to back down.
“You’ve always saved me.”
Bucky shakes his head and turns away from Steve. He brings his right arm up to run through his hair. His metal arm hasn’t moved the whole time Steve’s been with him and Steve wonders if it’s damaged in some way. He’s still favoring his side.
“Let me take care of you.” Steve pushes gently. “I can return the favor, finally.”
Finally, slowly, Bucky turns around. His eyes search Steve’s face for a long minute, looking for any hint of hesitation. Steve doesn’t have to worry about what’s on his face. Bucky won’t find anything. It seems to take forever before Bucky nods, almost imperceptibly. Steve reaches out an arm, tentatively, and puts it around Bucky to support his weight. Bucky doesn’t smell great, but honestly, he’s smelled worse. He’s letting Steve help him. He’s coming home.
“Target acquired.” Steve murmurs quietly to himself.