Chapter Text
A Touch of Memories
Footsteps.
There were footsteps. Coming closer.
He knew he should be alarmed, should be on high alert. Footsteps were a bad sign. A sign of someone coming back. Someone…
Rumlow!
But he couldn’t.
His muscles were numb from the strain of being stuck in this damn machine for days. Numb from all the tension and no relief. He wasn’t even sure if they were still hurting him or not. It all blurred together. The terrible pain from his head, the dull throbbing that made him feel as if the ground was spinning sometimes. He was so tired. He just wanted to get out of here. Out of that damn contraption he was stuck in.
He just wanted to lie down.
Rest.
Just…
Movement. The footsteps had stopped.
He looked up through his lashes, too exhausted to raise his head properly. There was a shape in the dark opening on the other side of the room, or two shapes? It was blurry and too dark and the angle was all wrong… he couldn’t be sure.
He knew he should feel something. Alertness, the need to protect himself, to assess the situation. But there was nothing. Not even fear. He was beyond really caring.
Suddenly the shape was much closer, kneeling down, almost on eye level. When did that happen? He’d just blinked, hadn’t he?
The features got clearer at this distance. Broad shoulders and blond hair and blue eyes. He blinked again, trying to clear his vision some more, but his eyes were so terribly dry that every movement of his lids felt like sandpaper.
He knew…
The man from the bridge. From the carrier. The man who fell.
Steve.
His name is Steve.
His parched lips moved on their own accord, forming words, not waiting for a conscious thought. It should be an easy task, but it wasn’t. His tongue felt thick and useless.
“Help… me…”
He could barely hear it himself.
The blond man – Steve! – looked worried. Or sad? Even more so than before.
Maybe he had heard.
But he couldn’t be real, could he?
He hadn’t been last time.
I’m hallucinating. Again.
He found that he didn’t care.
“Bucky? Hey, Buck, stay with me!”
Bucky…
That’s me. That’s my name.
I have a name.
Blinking, Steve was even closer now. Right in front of him, his left hand gripping his right shoulder, the one that was still flesh and blood. Steadying him.
He was so close. Those blue eyes so full of pain. So full of memories of a life together, a life he’d seen displayed in a museum. A life he barely managed to touch in sudden flashes, but it was never enough. He’d been able to form a blurry picture, get some vague impressions, but it felt distant, disconnected. He just couldn’t put it together, couldn’t fit the few things he saw and felt during those tiny memory fragments into the being he was now.
Faint mumbling surrounded him. Hearing his name made him focus again.
“… Buck. God, what did he do to you?”
Steve leaned even closer, lifting his other hand.
He followed the movement, unsure of its intent, but too far gone for being alarmed.
He’ll never hurt you.
And he knew it was true. Felt it from somewhere deep inside.
I’m not gonna fight you.
A shield dropping.
You’re my friend.
The touch came unexpected nevertheless. He startled, his head jerked slightly and his breath hitched for a second.
He won’t hurt you. He won’t hurt you.
“Ssh, I won’t hurt you.”
He relaxed again. Moving, tensing his muscles like that, it was just too straining. And it hurt. And his head pounded even more now.
The soft press of the palm against his brow was pleasantly cool. And familiar.
He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. He knew this. He knew…
Steve was looking down at him, frowning, worry clear in his eyes. And his palm heavenly cold against his forehead. But this Steve was different, scrawny and pale, only his face was the same. “Jeez, you’re burning up, Buck.”
There was a woman, feeling his brow, her hand so much bigger than his aching head. Her light brown hair pulled back behind her ears. She smiled.
Another woman took her place. Vibrant green eyes held his gaze, so full of love. Her mouth curved into a soft smile, barely there and yet it filled him with warmth. “It’s not so bad, honey. Don’t worry, you’ll be up to no good in no time.”
He was breathing heavily. Even more so than before.
Honey.
She called me “honey”.
Desperately he tried to hold on to her. To that memory that made his heart ache, that made him want to see that smile again. He suddenly longed for her presence, her comfort. Her voice.
Mama.
The word was just there. Out of nowhere, just another flash of sudden recognition. But this time he could connect it. And he knew that it fit.
It was right. It felt right.
His mother. His actual mother. His real mother.
He’d never remembered her before.
But now that he had he wanted more.
Voices brought him back to the present. Sluggishly he opened his eyes. There was movement. Someone else was standing there. Maybe. He was dizzy and his brain hurt too much to focus properly.
“Hey.” His eyes zeroed in on Steve again. He held something in his hands. “Drink.”
A small plastic bottle was pressed against his lips and a second later water ran into his mouth. His body reacted on instinct. He swallowed, waited till more of it filled his dry mouth and swallowed again. Rivulets of water dribbled down over his chin as his swollen tongue worked clumsily and he gulped the liquid down more and more greedily.
It felt so real, not like last time he’d imagined Steve rescuing him. But this had to be a hallucination. Right?
Then the water was suddenly gone.
He groaned.
More. I need more.
“Sorry, Buck, but you need to slow down. Or you’ll be sick.”
His mouth felt dry again already. Gone the sweet bliss of water. Some of the bad taste in his mouth had been washed away though.
“Look at me!”
He complied. It was an order after all. And that’s what he did, right? Following orders?
But this was different.
The insistent throbbing inside his skull darkened his vision for a moment. Obscuring the bright blond hair behind a dark veil. Separating them.
No!
He fought the dizziness. Couldn’t lose the connection. Not now.
Steve looked serious. Determined. And worried of course. All of it concealing a fuming rage underneath. That rage should alarm him. Yet it calmed him. He didn’t understand.
But he’d seen that look before. He was sure of it, he…
That face, hovering above him. “It’s me. It’s Steve.” Hands tugged at restraints. “I thought you were dead.”
“… will stay with you, alright? I’ll get you out of here, I promise!”
What?
Steve squeezed his shoulder then he got up.
No, don’t leave. Steve, don’t…
Movement again. It was making him dizzy.
Someone else was kneeling in front of him now. Too close for his liking. This wasn’t Steve after all.
He blinked, trying to focus again. This was new. This had never happened before. It had only ever been Steve who came to save him.
Dark hair, pale face, blue eyes.
His heart missed a beat and his rapid breath hitched.
Cold was creeping in on him from all directions. There was glass in front of him, a man in a white lab coat with a surgical mask on the other side, watching him. The light was dimming outside, showing him his reflection in the dark surface. Pale and confused. What was going on? Who was that person that looked back at him?
Who was that man with the lost look in his sad blue eyes?
The cold ended all thoughts soon after that.
“Bucky? Hey, Bucky? Can you hear me?”
His heart was beating again, pounding hard against his ribs, pounding its harsh rhythm until it reverberated in his skull. Stoking up the throbbing pain.
It wasn’t cold. He wasn’t in a cryogenic unit. Couldn’t be.
The man’s hair was short. And he wasn’t looking lost. No, there was a whole whirlwind of emotions waiting behind that blue eyes, he could barely get a hold of any of them. Pain and relief. Anger and sorrow. And worry again.
He wasn’t looking at a reflection.
The water was rippling softly. “There.” A small hand pointed at something shiny in the mud of the shallow pond. But on the surface danced the reflection of two small boys, looking just the same.
He gasped, staring. Taking in the pale features with desperation now, his eyes flickering over his face, noticing the broken smile and the tears.
The name popped up out of the depth of his mind, a place he suddenly knew they had never touched. But one he’d buried himself a long time ago. Buried deep. It tumbled over his chapped lips in a hoarse whisper, in a desperate, unbelieving plea.
“Jeff…”
And with a sudden clarity he knew – he just knew – that this wasn’t real. Just a figment of his brain, shutting down. It couldn’t be. It was impossible.
A hoarse laugh sounded, or maybe a sob. “Bucky!”
He was touching him. The man who looked like himself, but wasn’t. Jefferson, the hallucination of his twin brother was touching him.
He’d placed his hands against the sides of his face, framing it, keeping it in place.
Restraining him.
Only he wasn’t.
He was grounding him.
His thumbs stroked against his cheeks and new tears welled up behind the man’s eyes. A sad and yet strangely happy smile graced his lips. It was the same as the woman’s. His mother’s.
It was too much. He couldn’t take it. Too much input, too many images. His head hurt. He couldn’t process, couldn’t…
He shut his eyes.
“Oh Bucky, I’ve missed you so much!”
The hands on his face moved further, pushing the filthy strands of his hair out of his face, until the fingers hooked around the back of his neck. The thumbs rested just before his ears.
He acted on instinct, had no idea what he was doing, only that it felt right.
He leaned forward, his neck and shoulders screaming at the unexpected movement.
Softly his forehead bumped against the other man’s brow.
The touch of skin against skin was like a shock, running through his whole body. Leaving him breathless and trembling. And yet his muscles started relaxing almost instantly and his mind calmed down slowly. He leaned into the touch, bathing in its familiarity.
He didn’t care if this was real or not.
No, that was a lie.
He wanted this to be real. He wanted Steve to be here. And he wanted his brother, holding him close.
But it wasn’t.
It couldn’t be.
His eyes burned hot. Hadn’t he been so parched and thirsty, he was sure he’d be crying right now. It was a strange sensation. Foreign.
“It’s gonna be alright, Bucky. We’re here now.”
He wanted this so much.
You never get what you want. You’re not supposed to want.
It couldn’t hurt to pretend, could it?
He felt the hands at his neck trembling slightly.
“I’ll never leave you again. You hear me? Never again!”
He was so tired. He sank heavier against his brother who removed one hand to grab his shoulder, steadying his sagging body. But he barely felt it. The only thing he focused on was the touch at his forehead.
A touch so full of warm memories, surprisingly easy to grasp.
A touch of comfort.
The throbbing in his head dulled into a distant nuisance, unimportant. Far away.
The pain of his strained muscles, of his dry throat, it all lost importance.
“Bucky? Stay with me, brother!”
He felt himself slipping.
But he didn’t care.
He knew he wasn’t alone.
Someone would catch him.
He was with family.
He was home.
It couldn’t hurt to pretend.
TBC