Archive of Our Own

“We’re trying to help.” Natasha says softly, looking anywhere but at him.

Steve sets his jaw determinedly and turns his attention to Sam. He’s watching Natasha, a carefully blank expression on his face. He won’t look at Steve either, his fingers tapping his knee anxiously. He swallows convulsively before meeting Steve’s hot, unwavering gaze.

“I…I ain’t gonna tell you what to do, man.” He mutters quietly.

“But you think she’s right.” Steve states angrily.

His arms are folded across his chest and he is digging his nails into the palms of his hands. He’s aching to be touched, for one of them to their arms around him and tell him that everything is gonna be okay. His chest feels too tight, too small for his huge body and when Natasha finally looks up at him, he sees nothing but pity.

“Fury has authorised it. He thinks that it’s the best option if you want to keep your position as Captain America.”

He bites his tongue and closes his eyes, hating the lump that was slowly working its way up the back of his throat. The apartment is silent, save for the soft tick, tock of Steve’s old grandfather clock. She’s watching him objectively now, her face schooled into a mask of complete calm. Sam is restless and obviously uncomfortable but he remains by her side, as loyal as any soldier. Steve opens his eyes slowly and looks between them both before shrugging one sloping shoulder, his expression blank.

“It’s not an option, though, is it, Nat? It’s an order.”

Steve isn’t asking. He knows. He knows that they have been told to convince him. He knows that if he doesn’t agree, they’ll take his shield and Steve doesn’t think he’s physically capable of losing anything else.

Natasha doesn’t even bother to lie.

“It’s an order.” She confirms with a tight nod. “And one that we strongly recommend you follow.”

Sam runs a hand through his hair and fixes Steve with a tortured look.

“It’s better this way. Do you know how many people would kill to be given this opportunity? Hell, Cap, if Fury had asked me, I would have jumped at the chance!” He exclaims and Steve wants to laugh because Sam should be helping him sort through his grief, not telling him to erase it.

“Okay.” He whispers, fixing his gaze on a spot between their head, determinedly staring straight ahead. “Tell Fury I’ll do it.”

Neither of them reacts. The only indication that they heard is them leaving.

……..

Tony doesn’t seem as certain as the other two but he keeps that to himself. Steve can see that he is unhappy, however, when Natasha announces it at one of their meetings.

“So, Steve is gonna be out of action for a while.” She finishes, not once looking at him while she speaks.

Tony glances at Steve and purses his lips. Bruce is looking around the room in disbelief whilst Thor frowns, a confused look on his face. Steve takes a sip of his water, hating the way they watch him. Clint is the only one who dares to speak.

“Right…so, Fury is wiping Cap the way Hydra wiped Barnes?”

Steve can’t help but wince at the name and Natasha glares at Clint in a way that would terrify most men. Clint is not most men, however, and stares her down, an unimpressed look on his face.

“Nat, don’t tell me you actually support this pile of crap? Yeah, things are shit right now but Cap will work through it and-”

“He isn’t working through it, Clint! He’s not getting any better!” She snaps exasperatedly and Steve feels as if he has left the room, becoming invisible to everyone around him.

“It’s only been a few months, Natasha.” Bruce interjects softly. “He’s going through a rough time, that’s all.”

Steve has to suck on his tongue to stop himself from swallowing it. The lump in his throat is back and he can feel the familiar burning of tears in the backs of his eyes. Natasha rolls her eyes impatiently and turns in her chair to Sam, a disbelieving look on her face.

“Tell them. They don’t know what he’s like on the field.” She orders.

Sam glances at Steve before sighing and shaking his head.

“He’s been…compromised. He thinks that he sees Barnes everywhere and…he’s not able to do his job.”

Steve can see that it pains Sam to speak about him in this way. He can also see the shock on Tony’s face as he lets the words sink in; the realization that Captain America has lost it.

“The Soldier of Winter is dead.” Thor declares bluntly. “How is it Captain Steve may see him if he is deceased?”

“Dreams.” Steve says softly. “I dream him up, big guy.”

Thor’s expression of devastation is enough to make Steve’s hands shake. He folds them on his lap and stares down at them, blinking away the tears blurring his vision.

“It’s for Steve.” Natasha says firmly. “There is no ulterior motive here except to get our friend back on his feet.”

“He needs time.” Bruce stresses, his right fist clenched against his chest as he glares at Natasha furiously. “How do you think you’d be after watching one of your own men shoot-”

“He was a threat.” Natasha declares emotionlessly. “He was a threat and I followed the orders given to me.”

“No one is questioning that, Natasha.” Tony says softly. “We’re just highlighting the fact that Cap had to watch you do it.”

Steve’s knuckles are white now. The lump in his throat is threatening to choke him and when he looks up, the tears welling in his eyes begin to fall. Natasha gazes at him for a moment before licking her lips and stepping out of her chair. Her bottom lip quivers ever-so-slightly before she drops her head and marches out of the room. Steve rubs at his eyes viciously and forces the lump back down. No one is looking at him now. Sam opens his mouth but closes it soon after. He looks lost.

“I just want to…move on.” Steve eventually says. “If this makes that happen, then I’m game.”

“Time would make that happen.” Bruce points out gently.

Steve shakes his head and gives his friend a small half-smile.

“Nah…the first time he-he died, took nearly seventy-odd years to get over it. Don’t have that kind of time anymore.”

……..

When Steve returns to his apartment, it’s empty. Anything that could have ever reminded him of Bucky is gone. He walks into his bare bedroom and winces when he notices that they had even removed the sheets on the bed. He sighs and sits down on the new, unfamiliar sheets, running his hand along the strip of black velvet that ran through them.

“You ask me, this is all a bit of an over-reaction.”

Steve bolts upright with a jolt but relaxes when he sees Clint standing at the door, his arms folded across his chest. Steve eases himself back onto the bed and gives his friend a weak smile.

“I had a feeling someone was tailing me home; thought it was Fury.”

Clint says nothing and slides along the frame of the door until he reaches the floor. He settles himself against the wall behind him and gives Steve a curious look. Steve pretends he doesn’t notice and continues worrying the fabric of his new sheets between his thumb and forefinger.

“Bucky would have hated these sheets.” He breathes. “Always hated ‘fancy’ fabrics.”

Clint smiles and works a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving Steve’s face.

“I know you think-” Steve begins but Clint quickly cuts across him.

“You have no idea what I’m thinking, Cap. If you did, you’d be packing what’s left of your shit and leaving Fury and all his horseshit far behind you.” He barks with a humourless laugh.

“My house is probably still bugged so…” Steve says with a smile.

“Fuck them.” Clint declares passionately. “I’ve already chewed Fury’s ear off, he knows what I think.”

Steve feels as if his heart is going to burst out of his chest. Clint is the only one to come visit him in his home since; the only one to act as if he actually cares. He exhales shakily and gives Clint a soft look.

“I think Nat would actually kill you if she knew you were here.”

Clint snorts.

“She knows I’m here, can’t keep anything from a woman like that.”

Steve doesn’t comment on the fact that Natasha keeps things from him, from all of them. He toes off his shoes and pulls himself across the bed, rolling his eyes when he realizes that they have also replaced his pillows. He lies down flat and turns on his back to face the ceiling. Clint gets to his feet by the door and stands, staring at him for a while before shaking his head.

“Barnes was a good guy, well, the Barnes you knew at least. The Winter Soldier? He was a different kettle of fish but hey, he wiped out Hydra a Hell of a lot faster than Fury would have managed it. I’m sorry for what happened.”

Steve doesn’t turn his head to face his friend. He can’t. He is frozen and rooted to the spot. There is a crushing weight sitting in the middle of his chest and he is too afraid to open his mouth to thank him. Clint doesn’t wait for a reply, however. He simply turns on his heel and leaves as silently as he arrived.

……..

Fury, Hill, Natasha and Sam meet him at noon the following day. It’s in a hotel room in the middle of the city. It’s a nice room, well lit and tastefully decorated. Bucky would have liked it, Steve decides upon entering. Hill is stiff and brisk with him, obviously still sore over the fact that he had been harbouring the Winter Soldier.

“When you wake up, Agents Romanoff and Wilson are going to escort you back to your apartment. You’ll be groggy and won’t feel very well for a few days. You’re going to think that you’ve come down with the flu.” Hill explains as Steve settles himself into one of the three beds in the room.

Natasha and Sam are already strapped up and ready to go. Sam gives Steve a reassuring smile as Hill closed and fiddles with the many clasps attached the belts that will restrain him to the bed if he wakes before the job is finished.

“How does this work, exactly?” Steve mutters as Hill turns her back to activate the S.L.E.E.P.

Fury closes the curtains by the window before turning to face him, a passive look on his face.

“Natasha and Wilson volunteered to be trained in infiltrating your subconscious. Together, the three of you will systematically remove all traces of Barnes. There are three levels; primary, secondary and tertiary. Wilson has been trained to remove the first level and Natasha the second. Once you get to the third level, it can only be you who removes it.”

Steve frowns.

“How do I do that?”

Natasha sighs and gives him a side-long glance.

“You have to kill him. If you don’t, then the other two levels will reappear and the entire operation will have failed.” She explains.

Steve ignores the way his heart falls into his stomach and nods tightly. Fury steps towards him and claps his hand on his shoulder. The warmth of his touch seeps through his light t-shirt and Steve feels himself relax slightly.

“It’s not going to be easy, Rogers. Barnes won’t like it. Your memories are all that is left of him.”

Steve’s stomach turns as Fury’s words sink in.

…all that is left of him…

“What if I wake up and I still remember?” he asks as Fury steps away.

The S.L.E.E.P. begins to whirr beside him and Hill straightens up, giving Fury a small nod. The director shrugs one shoulder and begins to move away from him.

“Then you give up the shield. I can’t have Captain America refusing to shoot at terrorists because they remind him of the Winter Soldier.”

……..

Steve wakes in a run-down apartment. It’s musky and smells stale. He wakes in a bed that’s much too small for him, barely able to hold his weight. He stands slowly and stretches, a slight ache between his shoulder blades annoying him. He blinks through the dusty, dark room and nods at Natasha and Sam who are already on their feet and poised, ready for action.

“You remember this place?” Sam whispers.

Steve nods.

“Yeah. It’s my old apartment.” He mutters, glancing around the room almost longingly.

It’s completely empty and bare save for the one ratty, torn teddy-bear sitting on the floor beside a pair of Sunday dress shoes. It’s dusty despite the fact that Steve can remember his mother scrubbing it every day in a bid to help Steve with his asthma. He moves across the old, wooden floorboards and can’t help but smirk when he recalls the boards that creak and the ones that don’t.

“Me and Bucky spent ages deciding which ones would help us cross the room without making a sound.” He chuckles, dancing past Natasha and Sam silently.

Sam is smiling at him in bemusement whereas Natasha appears to be on edge.

“Where’s Barnes?” She demands briskly.

Steve sees the warning look Sam shoots her but Natasha is undeterred. She pushes past Steve and makes her way out of the room. They step into a dank kitchen and Steve freezes when he sees his mother fussing over a pot of stew, muttering to herself as she cuts up one stalking carrot and a few onions.

“That you, Stevie? You feelin’ better, hon?”

Steve has to swallow several times before he answers.

“Yeah, Ma.”

Sarah turns round slowly, a look of confusion clouding her face as she takes the three of them in.

“St-Stevie?” She whispers, her eyes wide and staring.

She looks as if she is about to collapse but she manages to hold herself together. She looks between Sam and Natasha curiously before patting down her hair and pulling at her stained skirt.

“God, it’s been so long since we’ve had guests, Stevie. Uh, are these friends of yours?”

For some reason Steve wants to say no. He wants to push Sam and Natasha out of this room, this moment that should belong to him. He hasn’t visited her in so long. He can’t remember the last time he thought about his mother. He wants to wrap his arms around her and thank her for everything she ever did for him. But he can’t, so he nods and steps aside in order to give Sarah a better look at them.

“Yeah. Sam and Natasha, this is my mother; Sarah.” He says quietly.

Sam steps forward and extends his hand, a warm smile on his face as he introduces himself. Natasha keeps her distance, however, an unreadable expression on her face as she simply nods.

“She’s a pretty girl.” Sarah whispers to Steve. “That your girlfriend?”

Steve shakes his head and can’t help but laugh.

“No, Ma. Just a friend.”

“Not for lack of trying, Mrs. Rogers.” Natasha suddenly quips, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Your son is a very hard man to get.”

Sarah giggles and beams up at Steve and his chest is suddenly much too tight. He takes a step backwards and forces himself to inhale deeply, a watery smile spreading across his cheeks.

“We’ll be back, Ma. We’re just gonna go see Buck.”

Sarah waves them away with a wide smile and turns back to her stew. A hand on Steve’s elbow tells him that it’s time to go and he allows Sam to lead him out of the apartment and out into the dimly lit hallway.

“You need a minute?” Sam murmurs but Steve shakes his head.

“No…no. I’m okay.” He breathes.

Natasha is already knocking on the door next door and Steve wants to ask how she knows which apartment was Bucky’s but he doesn’t think he wants to know the answer to that question. He knows how Natasha operates and she has probably researched them both in depth, so he doesn’t comment.

The unvarnished, chipped door opens and Steve nearly falls to his knees when he’s greeted by a twelve year old Bucky, all long limps and unkempt hair. His sharp eyes look at Natasha and Sam disinterestedly before they settle on Steve and light up.

“Jeez, Rogers. Who are these two punks?” he demands, still not stepping aside and letting them in.

“Friends, Buck.” Steve says shakily, a smile ripping its way across his face.

Bucky raises one disapproving eyebrow before cocking himself against the door, one hip propped out like the men by the docks and Steve can suddenly see him standing there with a newspaper under his arm and a cigarette dangling from his mouth as he teases the dames strutting past.

“Can we come in?” Sam finally asks.

Bucky shakes his head.

“My Ma is sick. She don’t nobody near the apartment, ‘specially not Rogers. Little punk nearly dies from a puff of cold wind.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkle as he teases him and Steve can’t help but grin back at him. He feels young again, like they could take on the world if they tried hard enough.

Steve hears Sam whisper to Natasha;

“How are we gonna do this?”

Bucky pushes a hand through his messy hair and fixes Steve with a look.

“How they gonna do what?” he demands, his frown deepening.

Steve freezes when he hears a gun being cocked behind him. He turns his head slowly to Sam pointing it at Bucky’s head. The young boy raises his arms slowly, all of his earlier confidence and arrogance draining from his now colourless face.

“St-Steve…” Bucky whimpers, his blue eyes watering and searching Steve’s desperately.

Steve goes to move but Natasha’s hands are on him, firmly holding him in place. He could throw her if he really tried, he knows he could.

“He won’t feel a thing.” Natasha whispers as Sam levels the gun.

Young Bucky is frozen in place, his bottom lip trembling and when Sam pulls the trigger, a horrible, sickening pain begins to pound in Steve’s head. He feels weak and leans against the wall beside him, his stomach tumbling and flipping. He leans over to vomit but when he does the floor beneath him disappears and they begin to fall.

……..

Steve opens his eyes and winces at the rancid smell of spoiling food and stale sweat. He turns on his side only to face a snoring Bucky. The cot beneath them shakes as Steve moves and Bucky’s eyes peel open, the circles under his eyes revealing how exhausted he truly is.

“Stop movin’.” He mumbles, pulling his sleeping bag around his shoulders and under his chin.

The tent around them billows as the wind whips through it and Steve can feel the familiar weight of his tags hanging around his neck. The rest of the tent is deserted and Steve sits up, glancing around from Sam and Natasha. There is no sign of Sam but Natasha is already up and alert, lurking behind a crate of ammunition, her sharp eyes already fixed on Bucky’s sleeping figure.

“Wake up, Buck.” Steve mutters, shaking Bucky’s shoulder gently.

Bucky groans as he opens his eyes and glares at Steve reproachfully. He kicks back his sleeping bag petulantly and heaves an over-exaggerated sigh.

“We’re not all super-soldiers, asswipe. I could do with more than a few hours shut-eye.” He grumbles as he sits up.

Steve can’t help but smile at him, even though he knows Natasha is already deciding the best moment to raise her gun and shoot.

“Sorry.” Steve breathes.

He reaches out and trails one finger along Bucky’s arm, unable to help himself. Bucky pauses for a moment before he smirks and rolls over to straddle Steve. He bites his bottom lip and lowers his mouth to catch Steve’s in a slow, languid kiss. Steve kisses him back hungrily, desperate and starved. He forces himself to forget that Natasha is watching and waiting, a gun in her hand, preparing herself for the deadly shot. He misses this. He misses Bucky. Bucky kisses away the lump in his throat and when he pulls away; his lips are red and swollen. There’s that familiar, mischievous sparkle in his eyes and when he rolls off of Steve, it takes all of his strength not to pull the younger man back into the bed.

“Don’t look so disappointed.” Bucky teases as he stands and steps into his uniform. “I’ll make it up to you later, Captain.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see Natasha raising her gun now that she has the opportunity to take a clear shot. Steve bites down on his tongue until he tastes iron in his mouth. Bucky’s smile is fading as he takes in the expression on his face and cocks his head to the side, a thoughtful expression on his face. He opens his mouth to speak when the tent flap rips open. Peggy steps into the tent, her own weapon raised and trained firmly on Natasha.

“Jesus!” Bucky yelps throwing himself across the bed and knocking Steve to the ground when he finally notices Natasha.

“Peggy, wait!” Steve yells as Natasha flicks back the safety on her gun, ready to shoot Peggy.

There is a tense moment where nobody breathes before Peggy finally casts a glance in his direction, her gun still trained on Natasha’s head.

“Captain Rogers? Would you care to explain who this woman is?” She asks briskly.

“Her name’s Natasha and she’s a friend.” He declares breathlessly, pushing Bucky aside.

Bucky is looking at him in confusion, his brow furrowed deeply as he stares at Natasha.

“Lower your weapon, Natasha.” Steve orders and he can see her struggling with his command but she does it.

Peggy follows suit, her dark eyes searching Steve’s face curiously.

“Who is this woman? She was aiming for Sergeant Barnes.” Peggy points out.

Steve shakes his head, words escaping him. He has no way of explaining why they are here. He doesn’t know what he should say. There is a flurry of movement beside him and before he knows where he is, Bucky has his own rifle in his hands, aimed and ready at Natasha. Steve recognises the determined look on his face but before he can say anything Natasha has fired. Her shot is second to none and Bucky crumples to the floor like a rag-doll.

“No!” Steve cries out in anguish, turning to face Natasha.

Another shot is fired and Peggy falls to the side, her eyes wide and staring as they roll back into her head. Bile is forcing its way up the back of Steve’s throat and when he faces his friend, there are tears of fury spilling down his cheeks.

“You-you couldn’t even-”

“I’m following my orders.” Natasha snaps, cutting across him. “You’d do well to remember yours.”

Steve’s head is spinning and the tent around them begins to shake violently. He feels as if he can’t breathe and his chest aches like it never has before.

“I never followed Fury’s orders to hurt Clint.” Steve manages to say without vomiting. “I never hurt him.”

He thinks there are tears in Natasha’s eyes. His vision is blurred but he is almost certain that he can see her crying.

“I got to Clint first and did what I had to do. You got to Barnes first and never helped him.” She spits. “It’s not my fault you messed up, Rogers.”

Steve blacks out before he gets to tell her that he knows, he knows he messed up.

……..

Steve doesn’t know where he is when he wakes. The room is white and bright and it hurts when he sits up, his entire body aching. The pain between his shoulder blades his practically unbearable and when he glances around the room he sees that he is completely alone. There is no sign of Sam or Natasha. There is just the soft him of the air conditioner. He steps out of the bed onto a carpeted floor. He stretches his toes against the soft fur and pads his way across the room. He goes to open the door but it is locked.

“You’re stuck.”

Steve jumps a little and spins around to see himself standing face to face with Bucky. His hair is long, like the Winter Soldier’s and his metal arm shines in the sun drenched room.

“How do I get out of here?” he asks, pressing his back against the smooth wall behind him.

Bucky shrugs.

“I don’t know. I’ve been trapped here for weeks. Ever since Natalia put a bullet in my head.”

He’s smirking, almost as if it were a fond memory. He rubs at a small scab on his forehead absent-mindedly and Steve feels his stomach turn when he realizes that it’s what remains of the bullet wound.

“Why am I here?” Steve presses, moving away from the wall and back towards the immaculate bed situated directly beneath a huge, open window.

Bucky shrugs yet again and follows Steve to the bed, his fingers twitching by his side, almost as if he were desperate to just touch.

“I don’t know that either. Usually I’m here by myself. Sometimes Peggy visits but it’s mostly just me.”

He sounds sad, lonely. It makes Steve ache all over.

“C’mere, Buck.” He whispers, opening his arms slowly.

Bucky doesn’t need to be told twice. He clambers across the bed and throws himself against Steve’s chest, nuzzling his nose against the soft skin of his neck as he burrows closer.

“I miss you.” He breathes, his words hot and wet against his skin.

Steve nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“Have you come to get me out of here?” he pushes, one hand stroking Steve’s throbbing chest.

Steve shakes his head.

“I can’t, Buck. You’re dead.”

Bucky exhales against his chest and Steve feels him nod.

“I know. I’m such a jerk, I know I should leave you alone pal, but I can’t. You’re all I’ve got, all I’ve ever had.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and runs his hands through Bucky’s hair, like he used to. The lump in his throat is unbearable and his breathing is shaky. He focusses on the warmth of Bucky by his side and gives himself this moment, this one last thing that he can remember. Bucky presses a small kiss to the side of his face and rubs his nose along his stubbled chin.

“You can do it, Steve. I promise I ain’t gonna be mad.” He swears softly.

Steve opens his eyes and looks into his, blue meeting blue. Bucky nods at him encouragingly and gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“I don’t wanna forget you, Buck.” Steve suddenly gasps, hot tears pouring down his cheeks.

Bucky swallows convulsively and blinks away the tears in his own eyes.

“I know, punk, but you gotta move on. It wasn’t your fault.”

Steve lets out a loud, broken sob and shakes his head determinedly.

“Buck, there’s gotta be a way I can keep you. I can’t give you up, can’t forget you.”

The light in the room around them is fading and Steve knows that he’s running out of time. He wants to scream, wants to beg Fury to give him more but he can’t. His breathing is shallow as he tries to control his tears. Bucky has rolled away from him now, a peaceful expression on his face. He has accepted his fate. He smiles at Steve sweetly as he pulls the taller man to his feet.

“This is the end of the line for me, pal. I’m already gone; you just haven’t let me go yet.”

Bucky closes the distance between them and places a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. It tastes like Brooklyn and warm beer drank on sunny afternoons. It reminds Steve of stolen moments in the dead of night between tents in Paris. It feels like a lazy Sunday spent in bed whilst New York bustles below them. It is all Bucky and when they pull away the room is dark. There is a gun in his hand and Bucky forces Steve to press it against his forehead. Bucky’s eyes are closed but he looks peaceful.

“I love you, Captain.”

“I love you, Buck.

……..

Steve pulls the trigger.

His brain lights up as though on fire and Steve passes out.

……..

“How are you feelin’, Rogers? Thought we’d never wake you.”

Steve blinks blearily up at Sam’s concerned face and Natasha’s tight, pinched one. Everything hurts, his head especially. He sniffles and winces at the full feeling in his nose.

“A little flu-ey if I’m being honest.” He sighs, struggling to sit up.

His head spins and he feels short of breath but he pushes himself to the side of the bed anyway.

“Jeez, I haven’t felt this bad since I was a kid and…and…” Steve frowns as he tries to remember the name of the kid who lived next door.

“And Bucky?” Natasha offers, her expression carefully neutral.

Steve looks at her blankly and laughs, shaking his head.

“Who the Hell is Bucky? Nah, the kid next door used to get his Ma to make me soup when mine was out. Sweet guy; went to the war and never came back.” He sighs as he gets to his feet.

“Too many young men lost that way.” Sam mutters as he packs his suitcase.

Steve nods in agreement.

“Yeah. Pity. I remember I had the biggest crush on him. Dames went crazy for a guy like that. Why can’t I remember his name?” he ponders, bending down and picking up own briefcase.

Natasha laughs, low and soft.

“It’s been seventy years, Steve. I think you’re allowed forget a name or too.” She teases.

“Damn Alzheimer’s.” Sam mocks, bumping shoulders with him.

Steve pulls a face and continues packing.

“He loved me.” Steve says. “Someone told me that once; that he loved me.”

Natasha gives him a sharp look before shrugging stiffly.

“Like I said, Cap; it was seventy years ago. I’m sure there were plenty of guys that fell for Captain America.”

Steve bites his lip before nodding.

“You’re right. I’m sure he was no one special.”