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Sam’s watching Bucky through the rear view mirror, trying to decide what he thinks. Jury’s still out, honestly. He was willing to like the dude, or at least tolerate him, but he's still suspicious on Steve's behalf -- more than Steve is, definitely. Sam loves Steve more than anybody else alive and Bucky is the dude who left him on the bank of the Potomac like a half drowned kitten. After beating the shit out of him and, let us not forget, shooting him repeatedly.
Also, Steve's been really sad about him for like two years and that just pisses Sam off.
As far as Steve's concerned, Bucky is still himself, his best friend, his partner, his brother, his – who knew? After a while, things like that went beyond words to describe. And Bucky had just left again. Ran like hell, if Sam's being honest.
He's seen the footage from the war, and it's like, night and day after Bucky fell. Steve had been so happy. Looking at Bucky, looking at Peggy Carter, glowing with how glad he was to be with them, strong and happy and able to protect them. There's maybe one or two pictures of Steve after Bucky's death and they all look like the pictures people had taken of Sam after Riley had died. You can see it in Steve's eyes: he's still waiting to wake up, because he's in the middle of a nightmare.
Sam wakes up at night, trying not to scream and wake Steve up so he goes for the shield and a threat that only exists in Sam's mind, seeing Riley fall and fall again, like maybe this time –
And then Bucky is here, Bucky is alive, and there's a lot of shit that happened in the meantime, but Sam will always be Steve's friend first. And Sam's real mad about Bucky being alive, about Bucky running away, about every fucking thing, it seems like. He doesn't want to be. Bucky doesn't deserve it. Steve doesn't deserve it. But he has a hard time not looking at Bucky and wondering why Steve gets his friend, his dearest and most beloved, and Sam doesn't. It's not fair.
Sam just chokes on it sometimes. Wants to go holler at the uncaring sky until it gives him Riley back.
But still.
But still.
Steve wakes up in the middle of the night too. Doesn't scream. Doesn't punch the wall. Paces, paces, paces. Checks Sam, checks the doors, checks the guns.
Checks the shield, checks his armor.
Paces some more.
Sam lies in bed, pretends to be sleeping, because it makes Steve worse to think he's woken him up. The nights Sam is awake Steve pretends it's just coincidence he's reading late at night.
They were getting better, maybe. Maybe not. They had each other, and sometimes Natasha, and that was more than Sam had ever expected to have again: a brother sitting up with you at night, waiting for the light to come again. Something real to do. Something real to believe in.
If you talk to a doctor or to Stark, Steve shouldn't have PTSD anyway. When they made him perfect they made it so he'd never suffer from it, all the neurotransmitters lined up nice and perfect. See the world, kill half of it probably, still be a good man. That was the promise they'd made Steve, even if they'd never said it in so many words.
Any soldier could have told them better.
Bucky looks like the circles under his eyes are growing circles and he kind of smells like hot metal and sweat and he’s just staring at Steve talking to the gas station guy like he’s saving up looking at him for later. He looks like he's starving for the sight of him. Maybe he is. Sam wonders what Riley would think, if he came back from the dead and found him now. Would he still recognize him?
“Why did you leave?” says Sam abruptly. “After – he said you knew him. He would have done anything for you.” And it'd really fucked Steve up, he didn't add. He was sure Bucky was smart enough to figure that out.
Bucky’s quiet, like he’s really thinking about it. “I dunno,” he says finally. “I didn’t really think about it before I lit out. But you know Steve, he don’t feel right unless he’s fighting something. He doesn’t know how to stop. I been fighting an awful long time. Seemed like if he found me I’d be right back in it again.” He stops and then glares at the rear view mirror defiantly. “I wouldn’t mind, you know I wouldn’t.”
Sam waits.
“I just,” says Bucky. He blows out his breath in a huff. “I just wanted to sit down for three fuckin’ seconds before I started again, you know?”
“Yeah,” says Sam. “I know."