Work Text:
8 weeks since SHIELD was destroyed, along with HYDRA in its midst.
7 weeks since Steve woke up in the hospital.
6 weeks since the press release explained everything.
1 week since they gave up rather on the search for... James.
It was James. Not Bucky. Not the Winter Soldier. Easier to think of him as some poor guy named James.
________________________________
It was late, Steve, Sam and Natasha had just gone out for drinks and dinner, and for some reason between them three was never a crowd. It was late on Sunday night, one of the more dangerous times to be out since the dark streets were cleared of people.
Sam suggested taking some back alley ways, as ironically they were more safe than on the street. So they detoured and walked through an alleyway, all of them seeing something unsettling.
A man, clearly homeless, was curled up on his side, cupping his side with his dark red hands and with long brown hair covering up his pained expression. "Sir are you alright?" Sam was the first to call. "Do you need medical attention?" Natasha called next, raising her weapon just in case.
"I'm fine." A thick accented man grunted. Eastern European from what they could tell. "You look like you're cradling a wound." Steve said, warily approaching him and taking a knee. The man was still hiding his face against the wall. "it's nothing, it will heal." He muttered, blood dripping from his mouth. The three looked at each other.
The man was thin, clearly ill and battered, they didn't expect much less from a homeless man. "Please, let us help you, you need proper attention." Sam insisted, the trio just wanting to help. "I can't go to a hospital." "Why not?" Natasha asked curiously, weapon still pointed. "They will arrest me on the spot... As far as I can tell I am public enemy number one." The voice grumbled, making Natasha hold her weapon tighter.
"Look at me sir." Steve ordered, the face slowly looking up at him, long brown hair ushered to the side.
They were fucking idiots.
They all looked between one another, the man quickly scurrying away at seeing their faces. "You!" He shouted, almost in fear, still putting pressure on the wound with both of his hands, one clearly fake and made out of steel.
It became rather obvious to the team what had happened. He was an experiment, a human weapon without its case. After HYDRA went down he didn't have a life, well he did, but in best comparison he was a dirty unloaded gun without a case. To the Winter Soldier he had no purpose other than being a weapon, and he had no place to live, no one to polish him and put him in his case.
The winter soldier felt useless.
They tried to figure out what to do. What did he even go by? "James?" Steve tried, he got a confused face. "...Bucky?" He tried more reluctantly. Same expression. "You're the winter soldier." "And you were my failed mission Captain." He said rather bluntly. "It is pointless to kill me since I am going to die anyways." He whispered, looking down at the wound.
The words hurt in ways the mindless soldier couldn't imagine. "We aren't here to kill you, we've been trying to find you for months." Steve whispered gently. "Can you stand?" He asked curiously, offering a hand. He gently shook his head no, shrieking when he was picked up and would be on guard if he still had any weapons.
"Why are you doing this, what are you going to do?!" He asked harshly, moving around and violently squirming in his arms despite the pain. "We are going to save your life, we aren't going to hurt you." "Why?" He asked, still very paranoid. "Because you are a good man." "I tried to kill you." "You are a good man that bad things have happened to. That wasn't your choice. Now just be quiet alright? And make sure to stay awake." Steve said, running with Natasha and Sam back to the tower, their terrified past enemy in his arms.
The winter soldier saved his life, now it was time for Steve to save his.
Soon enough they were in the small medical ward of Stark Towers, the bullet being removed from the soldier's side and the wound was properly dressed. After he woke up again the first words he muttered was, "I know who I am... Who I was." He whispered, looking up at the three and trying to sit up.
"who were you?" Steve tested, doing his best not to let this hit close to home. "I'm James Barnes.... I... Read about it." He mumbled, looking down at his hands. "Or I was... I-I don't remember anything..." He whispered. He really was just a scared victim, brainwashed to do awful things to people. He knows what he did, who his mind was occupying, but through all of this he felt... Mindless.
"Well that's a start." Steve said with a shaky smile down at his old lover. (Not that anyone knew about that bit of course.) "What do you want to do. Right now?" He asked curiously. "I...I don't want to kill you... But... I feel like I should." He whispered. They all looked between each other. "I... I have a mission." He said, looking up at them like an abused puppy. "Do you remember who gave you that mission?" He shook his head.
"I don't... I do not want to do anything, my wants do not matter, only my objectives matter." He spoke, remembering the words that occupied his mind of what they told him over and over again. "Your wants do matter, and you no longer have those people who hurt you. They are all gone. You're safe." Sam stressed, frowning on point.
"Safe?" He asked, as if he didn't even know what it meant. God that just made their hearts shatter. "Protected, Secure. Those scientists that did this to you can't hurt you anymore." Natasha explained, resting a hand on his real hand, but he flinched away. She knew what he was feeling, to a degree.
They looked between each other. "When you get better, we will take you to the living quarters, teach you how to live. With no memory wipes." Steve said, giving him a gentle smile. "Alright." He responded, figuring that it would be best to just go along with what they said, in fear of what they might do if he didn't.
After they were ushered out, told he needed rest, for the first time since he can remember, James fell asleep on a comfy bed, praying that this paradise wasn't a dream, and he wouldn't wake back up in that surgery chair, biting down on a mouth guard.
It was the morning and Steve snuck in to the hospital room, giving his forehead a soft kiss. He couldn't help himself, he was just so happy, yet sad.
Two weeks later he was let out of the hospital, and they brought him upstairs, giving him almost a tutorial on his memories. "you are Steve?" "Yes, and you are James Buchanan Barnes." The blond responded. "Whatever those awful men made you do was not your fault, you weren't given a choice." "I killed people." "Yes, many people. But you also saved several. Either way it was not your fault you did bad. You are a good man." The brunet seemed to understand.
Sam loaned him some shirts to wear until they would go out and get him his own clothes. The poor soldier still didn't remember anything, but he did feel safe like they said. He knew enough, and he knew he was a person, and not a weapon.
Two months after his return, the walls were scratched deep enough in his mind, and without hydra rebuilding it everytime he asked a suspicious question, the walls finally shattered. The trio only discovered this after a bit. "Well what's your favorite color then?" Sam asked Steve one day as they were joking around about how much he actually despised the colorful uniform.
"Violet."
"Violet."
Echoed the two voices, one was from Steve the other was from James in the kitchen. "How did you-?" Steve began to ask. "You told me so, when we were little your favorite shirt was always the light purple one. I always beat up the kids who called you a queer because of it." He said matter-of-factly.
"that happened in 4th grade I thought you couldn't... Remember anything...." Steve persisted, feeling a bit confused. "Well... I am starting to remember some things... About you, about them..." He whispered, shrugging nervously, scared that they'd do something to him.
"Do you remember anything else?" The blond asked curiously, a broad smile on his features. "I remember the first time we drove a car and almost crashed it, I remember shooting the president, I remember watching them build my arm-"
"Woah woah, pause for a minute here." Sam interrupted, "you shot the president?" He asked, eyes wide. "Yeah..." James whispered sheepishly. "They didn't like the work John was doing so they... Sent me out..." He whispered, looking to the ground, scared that they'd hate him now. He's said too much.
"John? As in John F. Kennedy?" Sam asked, blinking feverishly as if he couldn't actually believe was he was hearing, which he couldn't. "Yes..." He admitted, looking to the floor still. "I...I told you three I-I killed a lot of people..." He said, "I thought you told me it wasn't my fault... But of course it was. I never fought back... That meant some part of me always wanted to do it. Some part of me always wanted to kill those innocent lives." He muttered, on the verge of tears.
Steve immediately jumped up and walked over to him, holding him tight and rubbing his back. "I'm not your friend Steve... I'm just some murderer." He whispered into his shoulder. "You're right. You aren't my old friend, you are someone else but that doesn't mean you aren't my friend. You are a victim as well. They did so much to you, and none of the things you did as the winter soldier is your fault. You were a vessel for them, okay? That wasn't you." He encouraged him softly.
"But... Steve..." He whispered gently, "I don't regret it. I don't feel guilty and it don't have remorse. I'm just a murderous monster! I don't feel anything like I should." He sobbed, eyes glistening with tears. "you are NOT a monster Bucky Barnes!" He said firmly, giving him a chaste Kiss on the lips without really thinking about it. "You are a good man that awful things have happened to. You are not a bad man." He barked, eyes filling with tears of his own.
"I never want to hear you think of yourself as that again. Your mind was their plaything for a long time, and even though you have it back there's going to be some long term effects, but that doesn't ruin who you are okay?" He consoled him.
Bucky had sort of tuned out some of it, his face still frozen from the kiss. "D-did you just kiss me?" He asked, his expression stoic, if a little shocked. "Did I? God I'm so sorry I didn't mea-" "I didn't say I didn't like it." He stated, still in monotone, as he kissed the other on the lips again, in an almost child like way.
Steve chuckled gently as he pulled away, "God you are just as bad at this as you used to be." He teased, kissing him gently on the cheek. By the time they both got up they noticed that Sam and Natasha had left. The fact that they got the message so quickly made Steve blush. "I suppose they'd like us to pick up where we left off then..." He whispered softly, laughing and looking down at the brunet. "I have no objections, you?" Bucky asked in retort.
"We did lose a good amount of time while capsized..." Steve joked gently, squeaking as he was pulled down for another kiss and soon they stumbled their way into the bedroom, lips unable to pull away from one another as they... went down.
"So who's in there now anyways?" Steve asked after so many exclamations of 'oh god!' It might actually summon The Lord. He gently tapped at Bucky's head with his index finger, looking into the chocolate brown eyes, hand still tangled in his long hair.
"Not sure. I remember you, I remember the assassinations, I remember the training and the shocks to wipe my brain... It's like I've lived as two different people, and they're both in here, not fighting, just... Mixing I suppose." He explained softly, leaning over and kissing his cheek. He just wanted to avoid the subject. "Want another round?" He whispered, biting the rim of his ear. "yes please..." The blond hummed.
It had been weeks since the battle and every part of their relationship was very badly hidden. Whispering things in French to each other in the kitchen was the big giveaway. Tony only gasped once when he heard the most shocking thing. For a while he didn't let the couple know that he spoke French as well, wanting to know what was said behind closed doors. Now he really hoped, no, prayed those rope burns on Steve's wrist was from a mission gone wrong.
For the language of love, spoken by two elders, it was filthy. In which case he could no longer hold back his ridiculously loud shocked gasp. The two slowly turned their heads, raising an eyebrow in sync. "Tony. Can you understand us?" Bucky asked first, realizing he was probably the more threatening of the two. Even though everyone knew that Bucky had gotten his Bucky memories back, he also got all of his winter soldier memories back. Meaning that he remembered every single person he's fought and killed. And how he did it. So far he had shown no guilt or remorse for it either.
That was sorta, kinda threatening.
"Well, I do sort of speak fluent French..." He explained awkwardly, shrugging. "Obtenir la corde." (Get the rope.) Steve whispered in French, Tony darting out of there like a bullet. No way was he being tied up by two 90 year olds' sex rope. Uh uh. The rest of the team looked a bit confused, what was so bad?
When they had been together for about six months they thought it was appropriate to tell everyone officially as well as the media. Steve, being the paranoid person he was, constantly asked if Bucky was mentally strong enough to handle this, since he was still recuperating, before the press conference. Of course it took two anxiety attacks about a month ago for Bucky to warm up to the idea of stepping into the camera frame, but he quickly got used to the idea and began going outside more often.
The press didn't take too kindly to it at first, but slowly they became one of America's biggest celebrity couples. The subject of marriage was bounced around but honestly they saw it as too much of an effort for a single day. Besides if they even did get married it'd be something ridiculously small. They would be as happy as they were right now, ring or no ring.