Archive of Our Own ^beta

My ghost

Where'd you go?

I can't find you in the body sleeping next to me

My ghost

Where'd you go?

What happened to the soul that you used to be?

I’m searching for something that I can’t reach.

“GHOST” HALSEY

“Don’t listen to him,” Bucky growls from the corner of the room.

Steve shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts. Bucky’s leaning against an ancient bookshelf, arms crossed firmly against his chest. The look he’s giving the captive is terrifying – Steve would hate to be on the other end of it. The man they have tied to the chair doesn’t respond however, still staring at Steve. And smirking. Steve’s no good at this interrogation stuff. Bucky is.

“Cap,” Tony cuts in, “is everything okay?”

“Yes Captain, is everything alright?” their captive mocks. “Or shall I regale you once again about the –“

“Shut up!” Steve snaps as Bucky growls and takes a step forward menacingly.

“Maybe you should step out,” Natasha suggests moving out of her own spot in the shadows.

Steve rubs his face roughly. He lost the helmet in the skirmish following the Avengers assault on the HYDRA base. Thor will bring it back to him. He always does.

This whole goddamn place is filled with shadows. The decrepit shack had seemed like a promising lead on paper. A former HYDRA safe house filled with documents on their activities. Turns out only a handful of HYDRA agents were camped out here – waiting for the Avengers. They had walked right into a trap thanks to the sour intel. Clint’s already done the ‘my bad’ shtick but Steve doesn’t really blame him.

It’s hard to trust these days. Between the fall of SHIELD and the government revealing its own infiltration by HYDRA, it’s a goddamn war. And the Avengers are the only ones who seem to be really invested in getting to the bottom of it. Or they were, until Thor returned and told them that just smashing HYDRA needed to become a systematic search for Loki’s scepter.

“I got it,” Steve snaps.

Natasha is unruffled by Steve’s lashing out. Steve’s tired. They’re all tired. It’s been non-stop traveling for months – even before Tony got the ‘band back together.’

“Yeesh Stevie no need to be so harsh,” Bucky says in the corner, voice dripping with disapproval. “She’s a dame who’s willing to talk you, like Agent Carter. Show some respect.”

Steve ignores Bucky. He always does when these comments come up.

Reaching forward he grabs the scruff of their captive’s shirt. He’s the last of the HYDRA operatives at this base. Thor and Clint are outside watching for possible backup. Natasha’s already confirmed that there’s not much information here, since it was a planned trap. But HYDRA still might attempt to tire the Avengers out more. Maybe giving the lullaby was too early of a call.

The captive spits in Steve’s face when he gets close enough. Steve sharpens his gaze and juts his jaw out slightly. It’s like he’s back in Brooklyn fighting bullies in the alleyway. Bucky says as much, fond and nostalgic.

“I’m not going to ask nicely again,” Steve growls. “Where is Strucker?”

“Torture ain’t your style, Rogers,” the captive grunts.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me,” Steve mutters.

He slams their captive back in the chair. Pulling a knife from his boot and –

“You’re stealing my style, Rogers!” Bucky complains distantly.

– Steve jams it into the captive’s upper arm. It’ll hurt like hell but it didn’t hit any major vessels. The captive will bleed out in a couple of hours. Unless he gets objections, Steve will be leaving this one to die.

“Who let you get so dark?” Bucky whispers, a voice in the wind.

This time Steve does respond, he jerks backwards to look at Bucky. The window beside him is open, allowing the cool Russian wind to cut through the shack. Moth eaten blinds flutter, making an odd cooing noise. Steve blinks. Bucky is standing there, like he’s still alive. He’s wearing the same blue jacket and his hair is done the same. Just like the day he fell.

“Steve?” Tony calls; his voice is a million miles away.

Steve blinks again. Longer this time. When he opens them, Bucky isn’t there anymore. The bookshelf, swallowed by shadows, is lonely. It lacks the cocky personality of one Bucky Barnes, who fell off the train too long ago.

Reinvigorated, Steve turns back to the captive. He twists the blade in the captive’s arm. The captive screams savagely, like a wild animal. All Steve can think about is his words – describing the treatment of the Winter Soldier.

No.

Of Bucky.

“Where is Strucker?” Steve asks again, more intensely as he leans into the knife.

“Hail Hydra,” the captive manages through his pain.

Steve backs off, yanking his blade out of the man’s arm. He presses his boot against the lower rung of the chair.

“Wrong answer,” Steve says, voice neutral.

He kicks the chair over and the captive makes a low groaning noise as he hits the ground.

“We’re done here,” Steve says shortly, jamming the knife back into his boot.

Tony and Natasha wordlessly follow Steve as he marches out of the room.

“Goddamn, Stevie,” Bucky’s voice whispers.

Steve crunches his eyes together, willing away the voice of one James Buchanan Barnes.

XXXXXX

SEVERAL MONTHS AGO

Steve didn’t always see Bucky.

Immediately following Bucky’s fall, Steve feels empty. Bucky is gone and Steve is never going to see him again. So much light and love is just lost in that fall. Over and over the image of Bucky falling from the train as Steve raced farther away plays in Steve’s head. It’s the image that takes him into the ice. The last thing Steve remembers before it all goes blank is Bucky’s face as he realizes he’s going to fall.

Waking up, the world is so loud that Steve can’t sort Bucky from the noise. The voice is certainly there, but he can’t discern it. He’s over stimulated more often than not in those first few weeks. Even after New York, when Steve has a purpose and growing friends, the din is still almost deafening on a regular basis.

But when the dust begins to clear as Manhattan’s scars of the alien invasion fade, the noise decreases. The world is quiet for a very brief and clear moment.

Then Steve moves to DC after taking the job with SHIELD. That’s when the loneliness begins to kick in. He doesn’t see the other Avengers every day. Natasha’s great, but she and Clint are always sent on missions. They are SHIELD’s top operatives after all.

It starts as whispers. Steve will be admiring something about DC and Bucky’s voice will condemn him for leaving Brooklyn. It’s a teasing voice, like Bucky always use to do when Steve would dream of living in Manhattan. That first time, Steve actually found himself whipping around trying to the source. After it happens a few more times, Steve willing signs himself up for therapy.

When he first woke up, SHIELD tried to force Steve into therapy. He is a man out of time, disorientated, and all the grief hit him like a tsunami. The mandated therapy saw Steve as morose and unresponsive. The therapist, resigned, gave Steve the go ahead for active duty. They saw it as the only option to get Steve out of his funk. Get him busy enough that he’d be distracted by his crushing reality.

Following that, Steve took to destroying equipment SHIELD’s training center. But there were too many watchers there, attempting to get a glimpse of Captain America. Who was just plain ol’ Steve Rogers at that point. So he had moved to a more private gym Fury directed him to. It was SHIELD run, but lacking in the agents constantly gawking.

Captain America was of the past, until Fury called him up for the Avengers. Bringing Captain America back had helped Steve reorient himself and accept the world. But it didn’t stop the loneliness.

“You’re late,” Dr. Fields says, unimpressed.

Steve shuffles into the office. It’s in the middle floors of the Triskelion. Nowhere near the agent training or the areas Steve is when he’s forced into the building.

“It’s a bit of walk,” Steve replies.

He slumps into the chair across from Dr. Fields. Subconsciously, his body settles itself protectively around his core. Almost immediately Steve rearranges himself to appear more open, even if he doesn’t feel it. Dr. Fields watches the production with a sharp eye. No doubt she’s already forming her own opinions.

“You requested this Captain Rogers. It’s not required for you to stay on active duty. Although my opinion of that may change,” she says. “You can quit therapy at any time. Although I don’t recommend it since Dr. Swann wasn’t even able to get you to talk.”

Fields talks sharply and with purpose. Her words cut through Steve like a knife. After every session he feels like he’s been flayed and on display for the whole world. There are holes in his body that people can just see through. Just walk right through. According to Fields, the vulnerability is because Steve has exposed his inner feelings to her. Steve just feels like she’s scolding him like he’s a child.

“He’s getting louder,” Steve tells her. “More adamant about what I’m doing.”

“Not a he, Captain, it’s a you,” she tells him.

The voice of Bucky is Steve’s subconscious. Or that’s Fields’ humble opinion. Steve’s brain is trying to drive him in the right direction. The sessions have been about finding out what makes Steve tick. His driving purpose and motivations.

Steve can’t help but think they need to spend some time talking about Bucky. That it’s more grief than anything. In Steve’s time, it’s been less than a few months since he’s lost Bucky. Fields rejects his suggestions outright.

“It’s all you,” she says every goddamn time. “There is no Bucky.”

Steve disagrees. Bucky’s voice – he’s just making harmless comments. The ones Bucky would make when they were young. With his arm slung over Steve’s shoulder, Bucky was a non-stop talker. He made comments about everything. It was just his nature. There’s no hidden message in Bucky’s words.

But Fields is a professional and Steve can understand her preoccupation with his motivations. Steve knows it’s an issue, but he’s more into dealing with grief. Maybe he should request a transfer to another shrink. One who’d agree with Steve more. But Fields, as Steve was told by Rumlow, would be the best for his situation.

“How are you sleeping?” Fields asks.

“A couple hours, on and off,” Steve replies.

He hates closing his eyes. That’s when he sees Bucky’s face. He sees all over their faces – everyone he left behind when he crashed that plane. It pains him to see them so young. There’s some trouble reconciling their older, changed faces with the youthful ones Steve remembers. Especially when Steve looks in the mirror and sees the same face from 1945.

“And what do you do when you’re awake at those hours?” Fields continues. “Anything productive?”

Steve narrows his eyes at her. He hates when she sounds judgmental. Steve’s been productive every goddamn day of his life since joining the army. He’s allowed to take dalliances every now and then.

“You told me that you like to draw – have you tried that?” she presses.

Steve thinks of that fancy art store he went to in New York. It was just after Dr. Swann had cleared him. He had suggested Steve take up art again and bring his past to life. It hadn’t been a bad idea. Steve had been looking forward to pouring all of his knowledge of the past onto the page.

Except he had gotten so overwhelmed by everything. The amounts of things available. The different types. The prices. Steve had fled to the washroom and talked himself through a panic talk. He had no one to call – the only numbers on his phone were SHIELD agents. Steve didn’t want a SHIELD agent picking him up from the bathroom. He had wanted Bucky, Peggy, hell he’d even take Dum Dum at that point.

Anyone Steve could just call a friend.

An unmarked box arrived at Steve’s DC place a few days after arriving. It was from Stark – or rather his partner, Ms. Potts. Inside were a careful selection but large array of different art supplies. Steve had broken down into tears at Pepper’s gesture. He had called her hours later to thank her profusely.

But the box and all its glory went untouched. Steve only wants to draw one thing these days. Bucky’s voice teases him mercilessly about it. Steve refuses to be haunted by Bucky’s ghost. He can’t fill up page after page of failed attempts to capture Bucky.

Steve shakes his head. Fields sighs.

“What about running?” she suggests.

“Fury tell you that putting me in the gym is a bad idea?” Steve asks, twisting his lips upwards into a humourless grin.

“Something about budget cuts,” Fields hums. “Physical activity helps a lot of people, it’s been shown to stimulate the brain.”

Steve considers it. Even as Captain America, he’s never been a big jogger. Being a former asthmatic, he’s just kind of avoided the activity of plain running. But it’s something to do.

“I’ll run,” Steve says nodding.

Fields nods, smiling slightly. Apparently she considers this progress.

XXXXXX

Steve runs. Bucky’s voice can’t be heard over his beating heart and feet against the pavement. And Sam. Steve cannot hear Bucky’s voice over Sam’s shouts of aggravation as Steve passes him yet again.

XXXXXX

“I don’t think we’re getting anywhere,” Steve says as he enters the room.

Sam’s words ring out in his ears. Steve’s answer is even louder. Bucky had remained blissfully quiet for the exchange. Steve was completely honest with Sam. He doesn’t know what makes him happy. These days even falling asleep is a chore. For a boy who use to collapse into bed each night, Steve never he’d ever struggle with sleep.

“Oh?” Fields asks looking up from her notepad.

Steve remains standing. He has come straight here from the VA. Sam’s group session seems more effective to Steve, who has just been listening in, rather than Fields intense interrogations. He curls his hands around the back of the chair as Fields stares him down.

“I was at the VA today and I heard a lot of things – a lot of things that make sense,” Steve says.

The stories of veterans and their struggles aren’t unlike Steve’s. Maybe all the fancy SHIELD therapy isn’t worth it. Maybe Steve should just head to the VA and join a group session. Steve will fit in there. They’ll understand his struggle to find himself in the world. Steve’s a veteran and they’re veterans. It’s more common ground than Steve has with the majority of the people who work for SHIELD.

Fields sets down her notepad in her lap and rests her hands on top of it. Steve recognizes this as Fields’ ‘going to battle’ look. He steels himself to stand his ground.

“We all have our demons, Captain Rogers,” she says. “And we all must learn to live with them in our own ways. And I respect your attempts to do so.”

“Then why won’t you let me talk to you about Bucky?” Steve demands.

To him, it seems like any therapist would jump all over him about Bucky. Steve’s been hearing his voice in his head, for fuck’s sake. The very first stop should be Bucky.

“But you must learn who you are first,” she continues as if he never spoke. “Your attempts at recovery and dealing with grief are getting lost as you try to piece together their identity.”

“That’s bullshit,” Steve says.

“Excuse me?” Fields says, lip curling up.

Steve really should’ve transferred weeks ago. It could have avoiding this whole mess.

“I don’t know who I am, you’re right,” Steve says. “But they should go hand in hand. Sure my grief may be holding me back, but learning to cope with it is part of settling me into this century. Coping is going to be the piece that creates the framework.”

Fields regards him carefully for a few moments.

“I’ll have to respectfully disagree,” she says. “Now if you’ll take a seat – “

“Absolutely not,” Steve says coolly. “As of now, I’m completely done with therapy.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You’re unstable and erratic. I was actually going to suggest that the Director place you on leave,” Fields says, narrowing her eyes.

Steve narrows his eyes.

“Do it, I dare you.”

Steve walks out of the office, shoulders strong. He feels like he won a battle today. Even if he is at risk of being placed on an involuntary leave of absence.

But the paperwork is never finalized.

Since Fury is shot by the Winter Soldier in Steve’s apartment the following evening. SHIELD falls and HYDRA rises. Steve crashes them both into the Potomac.

Fields isn’t on any of SHIELD’s placement plans aftewards.

Steve carries the burden of it all.

XXXXXX

Bucky doesn’t materialize immediately after Steve finds out he’s alive. In fact the whispers cease. There’s no need for a ghost when the man is alive. But as Steve learns that Bucky has been lost to years of conditioning and torture, they slowly re-emerge.

A few weeks after the Winter Solider – or the part of him that’s still Bucky – pulls Steve from the Potomac, Bucky first makes his appearance.

It’s when Steve’s on his quest to find the Winter Solider. The world fell apart because Steve stopped carrying everything on his shoulders. He let Bucky down once and Steve’s not going to do that again. Even if hell rains down on his head, Steve’s not going to give up until Bucky’s safe. And even if that Bucky isn’t actually Bucky at all. The Winter Soldier deserves a better life than the one he’s been given.

And as the thought moves through Steve’s head – that Bucky’s still just a ghost – the whispers makes themselves a visual manifestation.

“Heya Stevie,” Bucky says, leaning against the wall of the hostel Steve and Sam have been staying at.

Bucky looks around and laughs. Steve has a visceral reaction to seeing Bucky. He’s wearing the uniform he had on before being shipped out. The hat even has that slight tilt on it. It made all the girls go crazy back then. Sort of makes Steve a bit crazy too.

“Everything alright man?” Sam asks, looking up from his bunk.

Steve can’t tear his eyes away from Bucky. He looks so absolutely real – like Steve could just reach out and touch him if he wanted.

“Is this is some more super soldier shit? Because I can deal with the lack of self-preservation and the Flash, but I did not sign up for vacantly staring at walls.”

Sam means it as a joke, but it cuts Steve deep. Shaking his head, Steve attempts to make eye contact with Sam. Bucky is staring him down from across the room. His lips are tugged down in clear disapproval of Steve’s upcoming attempt to brush him off.

“S’nothing,” Steve murmurs. “Thought I saw something move.”

“This place is creepy as fuck, I don’t blame you,” Sam says before returning to his book.

“I like him,” Bucky announces.

Steve vows right then and there to just pretend that Bucky isn’t there. That should work. Ignore the image of his brainwashed best friend standing next to him and he’ll eventually go away.

Except Bucky doesn’t.

Steve can’t help but think of all those times Bucky swore he was going to haunt Steve’s ass when Steve pulled them into dangerous situations. It had been a joke at the time. But now, Steve wants to go back and beg for Bucky to take it back. Anything is better than this ghost.

XXXXXX

There are rules for Bucky’s presence.

1. He never gets close to Steve. He’s always standing off to the side, commenting on Steve’s actions or surroundings. It’s not right. Bucky was always right at Steve’s shoulder, bumping their bodies together. Bucky’s laughter would always be right in Steve’s ear that way. It would send shivers down his spine. Now Bucky watches from a distance with cold, apathetic eyes.

Steve hates the lack of emotion that the ghost gives. Even when he’s cracking jokes.

2. Different Bucky’s will appear. Mostly Steve gets the Bucky right before the fall. He’s dressed up for the mission and optimistic. There’s a bitter edge to him, but it’s because Bucky’s a former POW and a soldier. He carries horrific memories with him.

The second most common is a slightly younger version of Bucky, the one that would cuss Steve out for getting sick and sign up for art classes just to spend time with Steve.

It takes Steve some time to realize that this Bucky is the one who is just about to be drafted. The carelessness and jabs come more freely from this Bucky. He’s unaware of the oncoming tragedy. This young Bucky doesn’t know how being drafted is just going to be the first part of removing consent from his narrative. This Bucky is somehow more painful than the Bucky who doesn’t know he’s staring death in the face.

The third, and rarest of the Buckys is the Bucky who last saw Steve as he once was. This Bucky frets and makes anxious comments. He’s worried about Steve, knowing when he leaves that Steve is going to get himself in trouble. He laments the loss of his best friend and shows open mistrust for the Captain America version of Steve. Steve’s glad this Bucky doesn’t show himself too often. Steve can’t handle the twist in his stomach as Bucky starts to talk about his worry of leaving and the unknown that awaits both of them.

Steve wonders why this Bucky is not the child who aided Steve in the fight that was their first meeting. Why this isn’t the Bucky who had been in art class with Steve when they heard about Pearl Harbour? Why it isn’t the boxing champion Bucky who had trained him for a few weeks before Steve attempted to enlist? Instead it’s the already jaded Bucky, who had been drafted and initially unwilling to go to war. It is the Bucky who had been holding on Steve as his last sense of normalcy when his entire life had been upturned. And Steve had gone and taken that away from him.

3. If Steve gets distracted enough, Bucky won’t appear. There are no voices, no visions. Except when Steve’s distracted by thoughts of Bucky. Then he gets the fourth version of Bucky – the Winter Solider. The Winter Soldier is mute and watches Steve with sharp eyes. He never engages or offers anything. He’s merely a reminder of Steve’s final goal.

Steve prefers anything to the Winter Solider. But all the Buckys carry the Soldier with them. From the hollowness in their eyes and the bitterness as they speak. But Steve is always lost in thoughts of Bucky, as he and Sam desperately look for leads. So the Winter Soldier stares at him from across the room, waiting.

4. Steve cannot interact with Bucky. If he speaks to the manifestation, he’ll get no response. It seems mostly that Bucky is meant to just describe how Steve sees the world. Any questions are ignored. Steve learns quickly that Bucky isn’t going to answer back, so it helps to just ignore him almost entirely. Except Bucky does react when Steve ignores him. His voice gets louder and more forceful. That’s when Bucky becomes the one who blames Steve.

Who yells until his voice is hoarse, telling Steve it’s all his fault. All his fault that Bucky fell off that train. All his fault that Bucky went back to war when he could’ve been sent home. While Steve slept, Bucky was alive and being tortured.

“Where were you then, Steve? Where were you?”

XXXXXX

PRESENT DAY

“Is everything okay?” Natasha asks, dropping beside him.

Steve stiffens. He has cordoned himself off at the back of the jet for a reason. Thor and Clint are uproariously describing the battle while Bruce sleeps off his Hulk Hangover. He had expected that they wouldn’t bother him as he curls up into himself. Except Tony is watching him with a critical eye from the pilot’s seat and Natasha can’t stay out his business.

“They’re your friends,” the Winter Soldier says, voice low and gravelly.

Steve jerks, eyes wild. Natasha’s eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t react. The Winter Soldier doesn’t sound at all like Bucky. He’s his own person, like Steve’s been trying to wrap his mind around all this time. Bucky is a ghost. The Winter Solider is the reality.

“Let them help you,” the Winter Soldier adds. “I can’t – but they can. Let go of me.”

Steve shakes his head. Even if he won’t get Bucky back – he can’t just let the Winter Soldier go. He’s in danger. Steve at least needs to see the Winter Solider to a safe haven. Even if it is based on Steve’s selfish need to alleviate his guilt. It’s just something he needs to do.

“Hey,” Natasha says softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s Bucky,” Steve tells her.

He shuts his eyes tightly, hoping when he opens them – the Winter Soldier will be gone. Steve can’t handle when he looms over him.

“I know you’re worried, Steve. But we will find him,” Natasha says as she squeezes his shoulder.

“No – it’s not just that. I see him – like he’s haunting me,” Steve says.

Steve opens his eyes and sees that the Winter Soldier is still standing in the corner.

“You’re tired,” Natasha says firmly though her eyes are soft. “You haven’t slept much since DC. It’s affecting your mind.”

Steve’s inclined to agree with her. Natasha is a rational thinker and she’s been watching Steve carefully. Maybe Fields was right to try and take Steve off active duty. He needs time to just process everything that has happened. For all his grief, Steve has felt himself slowly moving forward. Especially as he became closer with Sam and Natasha. But the knowledge that Bucky is alive – that has torn Steve in half. It is no longer grief or mourning, but more like half of Steve’s soul is missing. Steve could live knowing Bucky was dead – but he can’t exist while Bucky is out there in this world.

“It’s just – “ Steve says, not knowing how he’s going to finish the sentence.

Natasha shakes her head, indicating that there’s no need for him to finish the sentence.

“I know,” she says. “Just, try your best to sleep, okay?”

Steve nods once. Natasha gives him one of her rare, genuine smiles before rising and returning to Tony in the cockpit. They have a brief conversation with each other, glancing back at Steve. Ignoring them, Steve lays down on the bench, stretching himself out against it. It’s hard and the cushioning does little to soften it. It’s exactly what Steve needs.

Maybe he can ask Tony to get him a mattress like this for his room back at the tower.

Eyes fluttering shut, Steve lets the noise of the jet and Thor’s laughter lull him to sleep. It’s never been easy for him to sleep when it’s quiet. Steve’s a city boy, born to the rush and never-ending noise.

He falls asleep easy for the first time since be pulled from the ice.

XXXXXX

Steve has to be dreaming.

He’s under six feet again and his clothes fit loosely on his body. Looking around, Steve recognizes that he’s at the Stork Club. Once upon a time, he and Peggy were going to meet here for a dance. Except he never made it – Steve had crashed his plane into the arctic like the self-sacrificing fool he is.

All around him, couples are dancing. Their eyes twinkle when they look at each other and their smiles stretch across their faces. It must be painful to grin that wide. But he supposes being in love is worth the pain. Steve’s never really been in love like that – well not with someone one who reciprocates it.

The women are twirling around in fine skirts that billow out as they move. Their partners are all well dressed men, tall and well built. Steve feels out of place. He’s small and his clothes are old. They belonged to Bucky a long time ago. They hang from Steve’s sharp frame awkwardly, making his body appear even smaller than it already is.

Some of the couples are crying. But they’re happy tears. The song that plays in the background isn’t from the period they are dressed for. The song seems to be the only thing out of place – otherwise this is exactly how Steve remembers the Stork Club when he last visited.

Or dragged there by Bucky. Steve hated their double dates. Three people were interested in Bucky and no one paid attention to Steve. Not even himself. He was too focused on how easily Bucky moved on the dance floor. His dazzling smile and twinkling eyes. Steve adores that look. Even though it has never been directed at him.

“What year is it?” Steve asks a worker, reaching out and touching them to catch their attention.

They give him an annoyed look and yank their arm away.

“It’s 1946,” the waiter says. “Where have you been?”

Steve’s eyes widen and the tears of the couples make sense. The war has ended and the troops have come home. This is what Bucky and Steve could’ve had. Steve and Peggy would’ve been dancing here. Bucky would’ve found himself a nice girl and they’d have the double date Bucky always wanted. Peggy would get annoyed though, because even as Captain America, Steve still wouldn’t take his eyes off Bucky. His smile would be unchanged and he still dances with the same grace as before.

Steve has two left feet. Peggy would hate that. Bucky always laughed when they danced together in the apartment. Bucky was trying to teach Steve, so he’d make less of a fool of himself. It never worked – Steve was clumsy. Bucky always got really into it, sweating and hair falling all over the place. In the sanctity of their apartment, Steve got Bucky all to himself. There was no dazzling smile and sparkling eyes, but a fond look and poorly concealed amusement. Somehow that look was more intoxicating than the other one. Maybe that’s why Steve never learned to dance – he was too distracted by his teacher.

Though he has the fluidity of the serum, Steve never figured out exactly how to dance. Once Bucky attempted to teach him afterwards. They were on leave and Bucky was drunk. Alone in Steve’s room, Bucky drunkenly swished them around the room. It was awkward because Bucky was leading and Steve was bigger. They laughed a lot though. It was silly.

At the end, Steve ducked his head away, embarrassed by their childish game. But Bucky sought his face out. He pressed his forehead against Steve – they hadn’t been that close since they were children. Steve shivers remembering how close they were and Bucky’s warm, alcohol-scented breath against his face. It looked like Bucky was going to kiss Steve. And Steve had wanted him too. Then Bucky pulled away and laughed loudly. Too loudly.

“Night Stevie,” Bucky had said. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

They didn’t.

Except Steve is small now. He is standing in the middle of the Stork Club in a world that has never known Captain America. Steve had never met Peggy and Bucky was never rescued from Zola’s experiments.

Steve can see Colonel Phillips’ letter in his mind belonging to this dream universe.

It’s sitting on the Barnes' kitchen table as Winifred cries and Rebecca rubs her back. Tears are falling down her cheeks too. George looks shell shocked, like he can’t process that his son is gone. Steve is standing off to the side. He feels like he’s intruding on the Barnes’ family, but Winifred had invited him here.

“Bucky loved you like family,” she told him, voice choked with sobs. “You should be here.”

Steve’s chest tightens. Like family. Bucky thought of Steve as a brother. Not anything less and definitely not anything more.

“Where’s your gal?” the employee asks, breaking through Steve’s false memories of this false reality.

“She’s –“ Steve pauses.

He knows where Peggy went after the war when Captain America existed. Steve doesn’t know what happened to Peggy in this world without Captain America. The one where Steve was left in Brooklyn and Bucky died in Zola’s lab.

“She died in the war,” Steve says, thinking more about Bucky than anything.

“And you were back here, huh?” the employee says and they sound regretful. “Me too, bud. Me too.”

The employee wanders off, picking up discarded glasses and pushing in seats. Steve remains lost in the middle of the Stork Club, watching the couples dance. His chest hurts. It hurts so much.

“Steve,” a familiar voice calls.

Whirling around, Steve’s heart stalls in his chest. He knows that voice intimately. But turning around reveals that it belongs to the Winter Soldier, not Bucky.

“What happened to you? I thought you died,” Steve says, mouth suddenly dry.

“I told you that we should do this again,” the Winter Soldier says, sounding more like Bucky than himself.

He holds out his metal hand. Steve shakes his head.

“You’re dead – I didn’t come to rescue you. Zola got you.”

“Zola got to finish what he started,” the Winter Soldier says mildly. “But I escaped.”

Even in a world where Steve isn’t Captain America. Bucky is still doomed to become the Winter Soldier.

“I promised you I’d come back,” the Winter Soldier says. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Steve is at a loss for words. This odd Bucky-Winter Soldier hybrid is not like any of the Bucky’s Steve has encountered in his hallucinations. He’s built like the Winter Soldier, moves like the assassin, has the same haunted look in his eyes. But the way he talks is all Bucky.

“I’m – I am happy to see you, Buck,” Steve manages. “I just thought – we got your letter.”

The Winter Soldier frowns at him.

“When you were captured, Colonel Phillips declared you KIA,” Steve continues.

The Winter Soldier’s shoulders fall. It’s a very Bucky-like action.

“We’ll figure it out later,” the Winter Soldier says. “I came back here to see you, Stevie.”

His hand is still hanging between them. Steve reaches out to take it. This is a dream after all. No one will ever know.

The Winter Soldier sweeps them into the dancing crowd. Their movements aren’t like the ones Steve remembers. It’s more modern, a dance he attributes to watching Pepper and Tony dance once. It’s slower and more personal. Steve doesn’t trip over himself, caught in the Winter Soldier’s strong grip. Their feet sweep across the floor, mismatching the twirling couples around them.

It’s Bucky’s warm eyes looking back at him. That same look Steve’s seen a million times directed at some dame. It feels wrong. Steve may adore the look, but it’s not the one he’s use to. He wants the Bucky who allows himself to come undone with Steve. The one who doesn’t put up walls.

Steve stops dancing and attempts to push the Winter Soldier away. But he’s too strong and Steve is too small.

“What’s wrong?” the Soldier asks and his voice is lower now.

Steve panics. He’s losing Bucky. But it’s not Bucky in there. This is a false reality in Steve’s dream. Bucky doesn’t love him like he likes those girls. He’ll never look at Steve like that. The Winter Soldier doesn’t remember that. He remembers dancing – but not dancing with Steve.

“You’re not Bucky,” Steve says, shaking his head. “This isn’t real.”

The world seems to fall apart around them as Steve says these words. The Winter Soldier lets go of Steve and a distance grows between them. Noticing that the ground is getting further away from him, Steve realizes he’s big once more. He’s back in the reality where Captain America exists.

Looking up, Steve sees the Winter Soldier staring him down. Just like when they first met. It’s a blank look. It makes Steve want to throw up since he had just been face to face with Bucky. The Winter Soldier’s eyes snap to recognition – but not Bucky recognizing Steve. It’s the Winter Soldier seeing his target.

“You’re my mission,” the Winter Soldier growls in Russian.

Steve shakes his head.

“Bucky – you don’t have to do this.”

Snarling the Winter Soldier charges at Steve. He reaches Steve in only a few quick strides and wraps his arm around Steve’s neck. Physically unable to fight back, Steve’s limbs feel heavy.

‘This is a dream,’ Steve tells himself.

But the pain is very real and the lack of oxygen is getting to him. Someone is shouting, but it’s getting lost in the blood rushing in his ears. The Winter Soldier is making intense eye contact, waiting for the life to vanish from Steve.

“STEVE!” someone shouts.

It snaps Steve to attention and his limbs aren’t lead anymore. He’s back in control and ready to fight. Grabbing the Winter Soldier’s wrist, Steve easily manages to break the grip. He jumps backwards and crouches low, panting and catching his breath. His neck burns from the Winter Soldier’s grip.

The Winter Soldier watches him through narrowed eyes. He’s preparing for his next attack and Steve – Steve’s going to –

“Wake up!” Natasha snaps.

Steve’s eyes rocket open and he jerks upwards. Natasha manages to leap backwards, preventing her head from being knocked against Steve’s. Looking around, Steve tries to gather his bearings.

His fingers curl against the cushions of the bench. Right, he’s on the Quinjet. They’ve just finished up a mission in Russia and the Avengers are returning to the Tower to reorient themselves.

Steve meets Natasha’s eyes. They’re wide and her face is pale. She’s afraid. Of Steve? Or for Steve? No one else is on the jet. It’s not even moving. It’s just the two of them. Seeing Steve sleeping so heavily, they must have just let him be. Steve’s touched by the gesture. His teammates are obviously concerned about his wellbeing.

“How long have we been back?”

“Forty five minutes,” Natasha says. “You stopped breathing and then started to thrash around. I had to wake you up.”

She’s afraid for him.

Steve swings his legs over the bench so they’re on the floor. Natasha reaches out and touches his shoulder. He smiles at her faintly in appreciation. She’s trying to ground him. He inhales and exhales deeply several times before standing up. However, it still hurts to breath and there’s a faint ringing in his ears. Like actual oxygen deprivation has taken place.

His legs feel weak and he has to sit back down.

“Take your time, Steve,” Natasha says. “No one is rushing you.”

“Don’t you want to ask me about my dream?”

“Nightmare, more like it,” Natasha says, her lips twist up.

Steve copies her. They both sober up quickly, the air becoming serious once again.

“And I know what it’s like to have someone in your face after one,” she says. “You’ll tell me when and if you want to.”

“Was I talking?” Steve asks. “I talk when I’m having nightmares.”

Natasha nods, slowly and calculated.

“So then you probably already know,” Steve says.

She nods again.

“You will get through this, Steve,” she says. “I talked to Tony and we’re going to take a bit of break hunting HYDRA.”

“We can’t do that,” Steve protests.

He tries to stand up again, but Natasha easily pushes him back down.

“The team voted and you’re unanimously outvoted,” Natasha says. “We’re all tired Steve. Three of us are normal humans, it’s not just you.”

Steve selfishly feels relief that this break isn’t entirely on his shoulders.

“HYDRA won’t do anything for a while. You made damn well sure of that,” Natasha assures him. “They’re licking their wounds and biding time.”

“And they know we’re tracking them,” Steve points out. “If we take a break, we can catch them off guard.”

“You catch on quick, for an old man,” Natasha teases, offering Steve a hand.

“Tactical genius here,” Steve tells her and accepts the hand.

Natasha easily pulls him up and wraps his arm around her shoulder. She’s small compared to Steve, but can easily manage him. Though he knows Natasha is not fearless, Steve knows she can handle herself. She is the one who pulled together and first perfected the Hulk’s lullaby after all. She reminds Steve of Peggy in a way. How easily she fits against him and how naturally they work together. But Peggy and Steve never had the easy friendship that he has with Natasha.

Together, they lope into the main room of Tony’s floor. Pepper greets them from the couch, over looking several important documents.

“Nice nap, Steve?” she asks.

“Felt like 70 years,” Steve jokes.

He does feel well rested, even though his body is still fighting off some of the exhaustion. And the discordant dream part. That kind of messed with the effectiveness of the sleep.

“Tony’s talking about ordering several hundred pizzas,” Natasha says to Pepper. “Clint’s egging him on.”

Pepper stands up, shaking her head with a fond smile on her face.

“I’ll get that number down,” Pepper sighs. “I leave the two of them alone for 10 minutes.”

Here Natasha releases Steve. The three of them head to the elevator.

“Where are they?” Steve asks.

“Where else?” Pepper says as Natasha says “Your floor.”

Steve shakes his head. The Avengers enjoy congregating on his floor more than any other. He can’t figure out the reason, other than Tony wanting to annoy Steve more. They arrive on the floor as Tony and Clint are haggling about pizza types. Pepper marches into the room, prepared to take them both down a peg.

“Ready?” Natasha asks, turning to Steve.

Steve nods, smiling.

He forgets all about Bucky and the Winter Soldier.

XXXXXX

It takes a surprising amount of time for Bucky to come back. But it makes sense. Steve’s been sleeping better back at the tower, rather short naps between destinations on the Quinjet. Training is amped up too. Steve runs the Avengers through daily training regiments, so all of them go to bed physically exhausted. Even Steve’s mind is busy, thinking of new strategies.

Tony has outfitted a training room capable of withstanding pretty much anything. Every time someone destroys something, Tony and Bruce gleefully return to the lab to develop something even stronger. Clint and Thor have made it their goal to destroy something during the training sessions. Steve can only roll his eyes fondly. They are learning to work together better and Steve’s not really one to condemn teamwork.

Other than team building exercises, Steve spars occasionally with Natasha. Both of them are entirely too aware that the Winter Soldier is capable of taking them both out. Though Steve believes the Soldier won’t hurt them – they can’t always be sure. Especially if Bucky falls back into HYDRA’s hands. Even if the Winter Soldier has avoided capture thus far, it’s only a matter of time until a wrong step is made. It makes them both feel better, training to fight against him again.

Sam comes to visit from DC every so often. At first Sam and Steve were chasing the Winter Soldier together. But when Steve got called up to the big leagues, Sam remained behind. There are many hidden sources in the leaked SHIELD files. So Sam’s been going through them day after day. There has to be something on the Winter Solider hidden amongst the data.

Usually, Sam shows up empty handed. The failure only invigorates Steve to work harder than before. Once the Avengers get back out into the field, Steve is going to demolish HYDRA. He didn’t do it right in 1945, but he sure as hell isn’t going to mess it up again.

The day Bucky reappears, Steve has been having a slow day. Sam just left for DC and Thor’s temporarily returned to Asgard. Tony and Bruce have shut themselves away in their lab, working on some upgrades for everyone’s suits. Steve’s already rejected the preliminary designs, but Tony’s confident Steve will fall for them soon enough. Natasha has been enjoying her new blue lined suit quite a bit. Apparently it helps carry a greater punch for her Widow’s Bite.

As for Natasha and Clint, they’ve decided today is ‘spy day.’ Steve hates spy day. Whenever this day in training arrives, Natasha and Clint disappear into the tower and attempt to disable the security system. As well they try to sneak up on Steve, attempting to show him that he’s not as aware as he thinks. Except Steve catches them each and every time. But the concentration required ruins any plans Steve might have, which is why he hates spy day.

Too much focus involved in keeping his perfect record. What can Steve say? He likes to win.

As of now, Steve’s standing over the box of things Pepper has had returned to the tower from Steve’s DC apartment. He forgot how many things he accumulated in his time there. Or rather, people gave him these things so his apartment wouldn’t be too bland.

“You can pick want you want to keep,” Pepper says. “The rest we can donate. I’m sure kids will be excited for something that Captain America once owned.”

“Even if I never used it?” Steve asks, picking up a lamp he’s never seen in his life.

Pepper laughs.

“People love you, Steve. Especially the kids. You’re their hero.”

“And here I thought Thor was the favourite Avenger,” Steve says.

“Thor certainly appeals to a certain demographic, but you’re actual history,” Pepper informs him like she’s reading a business report.

“I’m just a guy in a really tacky suit,” Steve says, pushing the box with the lamp in it aside.

He should consider getting Tony to redesign the stealth suit. In the meantime, the lamp can be donated.

“Maybe you should consider showing them that,” Pepper says and then clarifies, “That you’re just a guy. Not the tacky suit – people like the suit. If you want, I can arrange for you to meet a few kids – the ones that admire you for reasons other than what you represent to America.”

“Like what?” Steve asks, carefully trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

America wants its golden boy. Steve’s happy to oblige, but he doesn’t really like how his history’s been presented and how people have been using them to bolster their bigoted beliefs.

“Sick kids look at you and see that they have a chance of getting better,” Pepper points out.

Steve smiles, thinking about that.

“You’re not just about patriotism,” Pepper says. “You’re a beacon of hope and light.”

Although Steve is firmly in the camp that he’s a just a person, he’s long accepted that he means more to people. The burden is heavy at times, but in the right circumstances Steve can easily forget about it. Steve thinks about the only biography he’s read about himself. A SHIELD agent recommended it to him on the grounds that it was the ‘most accurate’ of all the ‘Steve Rogers’ Biographies.’

‘Was’ being before Steve read it and nitpicked his way through it.

Steve disagrees on its accuracy since it makes rather fanciful leaps. But he does appreciate the author’s deeper understanding of Steve Rogers as human rather than just a character. Most biographies Steve’s looked at focus on Captain America. Instead this one focuses on Steve himself. It’s titled ‘A Modern Day Atlas’ and Steve’s copy is battered, on loan from the SHIELD agent. Steve’s not sure where that agent is these days, but he keeps the biography just in case they meet up again.

“Okay, set me up,” Steve says. “It’s about time I got some good PR.”

Pepper pulls out her phone and taps a few things into it. She laughs at the mention of Steve’s ‘good PR.’ The last time Steve had spoken in public was during a post-Fall of SHIELD press conference. Already in a bad mood from the loss of Bucky and still recovering from his wounds, Steve was getting accused of being all sorts of things. His choice of words to one particular reporter had been plastered several news sources for weeks.

“I’ll get that set up,” Pepper says.

“Thanks,” Steve says, lifting up box of records to add to the lamp pile.

He freezes when he notices the box of art supplies underneath it. Pepper immediately notices it. He winces, feeling guilty.

“Sorry,” Steve says. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it – I just –“

“It’s fine,” Pepper says waving him off. “You lost your muse, I understand. You’ll find it again.”

Steve nods appreciatively. He pushes the box over to the smaller ‘keep’ pile.

“Have you tried drawing anything?” Pepper inquires, trying not to sound pushy.

Steve shakes his head.

“I only want to draw one thing,” Steve admits. “I’m afraid of getting obsessed.”

“Draw me,” Pepper says after thinking for a few seconds.

“What?”

“Or draw the Avengers,” Pepper continues. “Draw what you see, it’s got to be more interesting than what’s in your head.”

Steve’s inclined to agree. Although he would like to bring the Commandos and Peggy to life on paper, watching Thor call up lightning is a much more dynamic subject.

“I’ll draw you,” Steve agrees.

He opens up the box and pulls out the sketchbook on the very top. Steve’s already catalogued the things in the box and knows which one he’ll prefer for sketching. Rummaging a bit deeper into the box, Steve pulls out a set of sketching pencils.

“Right now?” Pepper asks, sounding surprised.

“I use to sell portraits on the street,” Steve says. “I’m pretty quick.”

She nods, cheeks flushing faintly.

“Do I need to do anything?” she asks.

Steve shakes his head. He settles onto the bed and opens up the package of pencils. They’re heavier than he’s use to. Opening to the first page, Steve takes a few quick strokes to get a feel for the pencils.

“I have a pretty good memory. I think the serum enhanced that too – I can just see pictures in my head.”

“Maybe you have an eidetic memory,” Pepper says. “Is it like you see a photograph in your mind?”

“Something like that,” Steve says. “It’s kind of hard to describe.”

“If you want, we can get you properly tested,” Pepper offers.

Steve thinks himself appropriately comfortable with the pencils, so he slips to the second page and starts to sketch the rough lines of Pepper’s face. He doesn’t respond to Pepper’s suggestion, mulling over the consequences in his mind.

“Modern medicine is probably more equipped to find the full extent of your abilities,” Pepper says.

“I like the surprises,” Steve says because he really does.

Every time the serum proves itself more useful, Steve is always buzzing with happiness. It counteracts the numerous illnesses that would pop up during his youth.

“If you change your mind, just let me know,” Pepper says.

She has her phone back out, typing away at it furiously. Steve forgets a lot that Pepper is the CEO of Stark Industries. She comes across so relaxed and not at all busy.

“Has Tony shown you the Captain America films after your disappearance?” Pepper asks.

Steve pauses from sketching to look up at Pepper. He’s trying to figure out her angle. She just looks genuinely curious. Steve shrugs and looks back down at his sketch.

“I’ve had no interest,” he says. “Sometimes I’ll see a copy, but I have no desire to watch one.”

“Well Tony’s trying to plan a movie marathon,” Pepper says. “You might want to step in.”

“Maybe it will be fun,” Steve says. “I mean I can point out all of the inaccuracies.”

“Tony will love that. He grew up with a bunch of these movies,” Pepper says. “We all did, actually. You’ll probably be breaking a few childhood dreams.”

Steve hums and switches to a different pencil. He’s almost finished with the sketch. It’s not great – Steve is out of practice – but Pepper is identifiable on the paper.

“Is it weird having a bunch of people think they know you?” Pepper asks suddenly.

Steve doesn’t stall. He’s heard the question before, poised in many different ways.

“Yes and no,” Steve says. “During the war, people had these stories about me from the propaganda. It didn’t really bother me then because I had people who knew the stories weren’t true They had lived them with me. Now, people have written my entire history with complete disregard to the people who were there.”

“Understandable,” Pepper says. “If I were you, I’d hate it. I can barely stand the gossip magazines, even though I know they’re completely untrue.”

“Done,” Steve announces.

Out of habit he gives a quick signature to the bottom.

“These use to cost a dime,” Steve says. “Sometimes I bumped it up to a quarter when I was in a nicer neighbourhood.”

“Adjusted for inflation that’s still not much,” Pepper says.

Steve shrugs and hands the sketchbook to Pepper. She holds a hand over her mouth.

“It’s not my best work,” he tells her, interpreting it as a negative reaction.

“This is amazing,” she tells him. “You’re amazing Steve. This is worth far more than a quarter.”

“Hard work and a lot of time stuck in bed,” Steve says. “Do you want to keep it?”

Pepper thinks about it and then shakes her head.

“You should keep it. It will start off your sketchbook in the future and not the past. Just so you remember it won’t all be filled with one face if it ends up that way,” Pepper says handing it back to him.

“One day I’ll paint your portrait,” Steve promises. “When I’m more acquainted with modern art tools.”

“That would be lovely, Steve,” Pepper says, smiling.

Her phone rings, disrupting the moment. Pepper sighs.

“That would be this month’s financial reports. I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve lifts a hand goodbye as Pepper exits the room. Now left alone, Steve goes back to sorting the boxes. But first he places the sketchbook on the side of his bed. Pepper is right – he just needs to find his muse again. Back in the 30s, Bucky had always been Steve’s secret muse. Since Bucky isn’t here, Steve will have to find something new.

“Like what ya see, Rogers?” Bucky would ask, a Cheshire grin on his face.

It was a hot day and the two of them were sitting by the open window of their apartment. Bucky was leaned across the windowsill, shirt off. He’d stretch out further when he noticed Steve staring at him and then dissolved into helpless laughter. Steve’s cheeks would flush pink and he’d hide his face behind his sketchbook. Later he’d burn the picture he’d drawn of shirtless Bucky.

There’s a creak from above, causing jerks Steve out of the memory. His cheeks are flushed at the thoughts. He manages to collect himself before calling out.

“Clint, I hear you,” Steve says.

“Aw man,” Clint’s voice echoes through the vents.

There’s some noise as Clint clambers through the vents. Above Steve’s bed, the vent cover is kicked off and Clint lands unceremoniously on Steve’s bed.

“You sleep on bricks, Cap,” Clint complains rubbing his head.

He looks around, taking in the boxes.

“Didn’t think you were the hoarder type. More of a bounce the quarter of the bed type,” Clint comments.

“My lease on my DC apartment ended, so Pepper had my stuff sent here,” Steve says. “And just because I was the military doesn’t mean I’m a neat freak, Clint.”

“Anyways,” Clint says, waving his hand dismissively, “do you know how long I was in that vent? I was going to get you when you were talking to Pepper, but I didn’t want to interrupt your moment.”

“How thoughtful, you just eavesdropped from the vent instead,” Steve says.

“Anyone every tell you that you have a vicious sense of sarcasm?” Clint asks, rolling off the bed.

“Once or twice,” Steve says.

Clint rolls his eyes.

“You’re a bad liar, Cap,” he says.

Steve realizes that Clint is stalling. Generally when he’s caught one of them, they immediately take off to try again. After some sharp complaints about Steve’s mannerisms and the like. Clint never attempts to start a full conversation with Steve.

“Natasha!” Steve calls. “Clint’s revealed your position.”

There’s some cursing in Russian and Natasha seems to materialize out from nowhere. Steve decides he really doesn’t want to know where she came from. He’ll sleep better that way. She glares at Clint, who shrugs helplessly.

“Next time,” Steve teases.

“We’ll get you someday, Rogers,” Natasha informs him primly. “Let’s go, Clint, we need to regroup.”

Natasha marches out of the room, Clint following after her with his arms hanging by his side. Steve chuckles at their obvious dismay.

“Better luck next time!” he shouts after them, sounding completely sincere.

Neither of them dignify that with a response.

Steve has a few hours before they manage to get close to him again, so he returns to mindlessly moving the boxes around. He ends up moving the boxes he isn’t going to keep off to the side of the main room. Someone is going to him call it out when the rest of the Avengers finally crawl out of their own caves. They love to poke fun at Steve based on the stereotypes made on Captain America. Steve enjoys destroying their perceptions. Tony and Clint always get very flustered.

Returning to his room, Steve begins to unpack the remaining boxes. Tony mostly furnished the floor before Steve moved in and Pepper had some input in decoration, so it’s not lacking. Unlike Steve’s once lonely DC apartment, he doesn’t need help in making the place seem lived in.

Most of the boxes have his clothes – the vast majority being SHIELD issued sweats and shirts. Now Steve’s closet is filled with more casual stuff and not the stuffy clothing he had first worn when defrosted. The remaining boxes are just books and a few items that Steve managed to get back from various sources. The Smithsonian maintains that it will return his stuff at the end of the exhibit. Steve doubts it, but Tony claims that he will use his ‘army of lawyers’ to get them back.

Tony’s very dramatic about it and ready to fight for Steve’s right to his own belongings. All Steve really wants back is the sketchbooks that have the sketches of Bucky. They contain images he drew while they were temporarily separated during the war and didn’t have to worry about Bucky seeing them. Thankfully the exhibit doesn’t have those pages out on display.

Steve’s tucking the novels onto the bookcase when he starts to feel watched. The back of his neck prickles and Steve slowly slides the book into place before turning around. He sighs in relief when he notices it’s just Bucky. Steve laughs a little bit at feeling relief at only seeing his hallucination. Being hunted by various assassins over the years has done that to him.

“It’s been some time,” Steve muses to himself.

Bucky – or Steve thinks it’s the Winter Soldier – stiffens. Steve mostly ignores him. He’s looming in the corner of the room, like usual. Though Steve notices that he’s dreamt up different clothes for the Winter Soldier. This is what Steve must think the Winter Soldier looks like on the run – baggy and worn clothes with a baseball cap. Steve is silly in thinking the Winter Soldier would wander around decked out in leather.

Steve continues to put away his meager amount of books. When finished he checks the clock to note that it’s nearing dinnertime. Natasha and Clint will be out of hiding and squabbling with each other over what to eat. Ultimately, Steve’s going to just get fed up and choose. But it’s entertaining to watch Clint and Natasha argue with each other in various languages – even Steve can only keep up with about half of them.

“JARVIS?” Steve calls out

He means to ask him to locate Natasha and Clint.

There’s no response. Steve furrows his brow and starts to head to the door. The Winter Soldier is still standing in the corner, just quietly watching. At least he’s not talking; last time sent Steve over the edge.

Sighing, Steve assumes Natasha or Clint must have knocked out security in his floor so JARVIS won’t alert him to their presence. Looks like he’ll just have to head over to Tony’s lab to get him to fix it.

But as Steve makes his way over to the door, the Winter Soldier makes a dive. Steve immediately reacts – the hallucinations have rarely moved like this. And last time the Winter Soldier had dove at him, Steve woke up unable to breath. He leaps backwards and immediately scans for the shield. It’s in the kitchen – out of reach – but Steve reminds himself that this is merely a hallucination.

The Winter Soldier isn’t diving at Steve, however. Instead his metal arm hits the door and slams it shut. Steve’s eyes widen. Why didn’t he see this earlier? Different clothes and the Winter Soldier clearly reacted to Steve speaking. The hallucinations of Bucky stick to a very strict set of rules.

“Are you insane?” Steve hisses. “You can’t just come here – you can’t just break into the tower!”

“I planned it,” the Winter Soldier says, voice hoarse from disuse.

He sounds more like the hybrid from Steve’s dream, but this one isn’t attached to the rules of Steve’s head. Still, the hybrid is leaning more towards the Winter Soldier rather than Bucky. Steve calls this progress though; he can see Bucky in the Soldier’s eyes.

“I knew which day you would be left alone,” the Soldier continues. “And when security would be down because of the two agents.”

“Natasha and Clint,” Steve fills in for him. “You’ve met Natasha before.”

“I shot her,” the Soldier agrees, but it’s unclear if he’s aware he’s done it twice.

“Why are you here?” Steve asks.

“But you did not seem alerted by my presence,” the Soldier says, ignoring Steve. “That’s not very smart of you.”

“Sometimes, I see you,” Steve admits slowly. “Like hallucinations.”

The Soldier narrows his eyes. And in that moment all Steve sees is Bucky. The characteristic worry and looking into Steve’s habit of being dismissive of his symptoms.

“That is not good,” the Soldier says slowly.

“They haven’t been happening recently. I’ve been sleeping better and I’m more relaxed,” Steve says. “No need to worry.”

The Winter Soldier seems surprised by that statement. He pulls his arm off the door and stalks towards Steve. Steve tenses slightly. He will fight back if he has to.

He will.

“Why are you here?” Steve asks.

“I have… questions,” the Soldier says sounding unsure. “And you have answers.”

“Depends on the question,” Steve says honestly. “And I don’t know if you’ll like my answer.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’ll like it or not,” the Soldier says harshly and he sounds more like Bucky. “I just need answers.”

“What do you remember?” Steve asks.

“More and more each day,” the Soldier admits. “Mostly of my training, but occasionally I remember you. And I wonder why I remember you.”

“I’m Steve Rogers,” Steve says.

“Captain America, born July 4^th 1918,” the Soldier recites, sounding frustrated. “I know what the museum says. I need to know what you say.”

“Ask away,” Steve says. “I’ll tell you anything I can.”

Before the Winter Soldier can get a word out there’s shouting outside Steve’s room. Whatever has been done to security has been reversed. It will only be a few minutes before Natasha and Clint come smashing into the room.

“I have to go,” the Soldier tells him sharply. “Do not follow me.”

“Will you come back?” Steve asks desperately.

He needs to see the Soldier again – see that Bucky is safe and taken care of. He’s somewhere in that head and sooner or later he will break free. But the Soldier doesn’t reply. He’s tense and taking inventory of the room.

“I will distract them,” Steve says, sighing.

The Soldier nods and waits for Steve to leave. Apparently he doesn’t want Steve to remember how he got into the room. Steve doesn’t blame him. He would try and follow the Soldier, given the opportunity.

Slipping out of the room, Steve comes face to face with Natasha’s widow’s bite. She’s currently alone. Clint is probably sweeping the rest of the floor.

“Steve!” she says, relief colouring her voice. “JARVIS said that all the security on your floor was shut down.”

“I thought that was you?” Steve says attempting to sound confused.

“I know when you lie,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “Who’s in there?”

“No one,” Steve insists.

Natasha scowls. The scenario draws too many parallels with the one they had following Fury’s fake death.

“You can’t protect him, Steve. He’s a trained killer with programming. You can’t trust him so easily,” she says, pushing Steve off to the side.

She kicks open the door Steve just shut, but finds it empty.

“Where did he go?” she demands.

“I don’t know,” Steve says helplessly. “I’m sorry Nat – I just – I don’t know.”

“You thought he was a hallucination, didn’t you?” Natasha says, voice softy.

Steve nods.

“He was kind of annoyed, I think, that I ignored him for as long as I did.”

“Damn, Rogers, how long did you let him watch you? It’s not like he was trying to kill you less than six months ago,” Natasha says.

“He’s remembering,” Steve says. “I can see Bucky in his eyes when he talks.”

“He’s changed,” Natasha points out.

“So have I,” Steve says firmly. “We’re not the same people and I can accept that Bucky’s going to be different. But he’s still my friend.”

Natasha is about to scold Steve more when Clint comes back into the main room.

“Floor’s secure,” he says. “Everything good with you, Cap?”

“Maybe you two should consider taking a break from trying to catch me off guard. You’re never going to get me. It’s more likely that you’re just going to dismantle the entire tower’s security system,” Steve says, dismissing any danger.

Clint and Natasha both scowl at him for different reasons.

XXXXXX

Steve doesn’t see the Winter Soldier for a long time following their encounter in the tower. The Avengers end their break and resume their search. The pause turns out to work out for the better. Shortly afterwards, they’re all storming Strucker’s stronghold in Sokovia. Though it sets off a chain of events that Steve regrets not having seen and causes them to lose more than they gain. But in the end Steve’s still finds himself a place.

The Avengers’ compound is a lot like the army. People are always moving around, needing to do something important. There’s always a mission to do and always danger that needs to be faced.

Over time, the visions and voices fade. Steve’s really found himself in this present and the grief is a dull pain. It roars up now and then – like everyone Steve has bad days – but he has friends to help him through it.

He and Natasha are now the senior members of the Avengers and possess the skills to keep the new recruits together. Never will the team have to face the discord the original Avengers faced. Steve’s moved his focus on hunting down Rumlow and other former HYDRA agents who’ve decided to run wild after the fall of HYDRA.

The Winter Soldier is a constant presence in Steve’s mind, but Steve knows he’s capable of taking care of himself. The Soldier’s evasion of Steve is proof of his ability to stay hidden from those who want him as a weapon. Steve’s convinced that the Winter Soldier will show up sooner or later. There are questions that need to be answered after all.

“We’re going out to the city,” Natasha says from the doorway.

Steve looks up from his easel. He’s painting the portrait of Pepper. After everything, Steve finds picking up a pencil or a brush easy. There’s no longer a fear that he’ll get trapped in the past. Tony designed Steve’s room to have a massive window, opening up a view of the grounds and the surrounding forest. In the distance, Steve can see the edges of the city. He appreciates Tony’s thought by giving Steve such a view.

“I think I’ll pass,” Steve says. “I’ve got a deadline.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and enters the room to stand next to him. Steve doesn’t have a deadline other than the one he self-imposed on himself.

“We’re going to show Wanda and Vision the miracles of Manhattan,” Natasha says.

“Try not to shove ‘America the Great’ into Wanda’s face,” Steve warns.

He feels protective over her. She’s the youngest member by far and burdened with the most power. Steve knows a little thing or two about that. He’s not going to let her get corrupted by those who fear her. He includes making her feel comfortable in new surroundings as protection.

“I got it, I’m not American either remember?” Natasha says with no heat, only as a gentle reminder. “We’re taking her to a Sokovian market. Tony told us about it.”

Steve nods. Tony likes to play up that he doesn’t care, but they all know he’s got one of the biggest hearts. Visiting with fellow Sokovians might help Wanda get through her own mourning period. Steve understands Wanda’s pain far too well. Except that Bucky is still alive and Pietro is actually dead. Grief is still a common denominator

“Sure you don’t want to come?” she asks.

Natasha gets worried about leaving Steve alone. He hasn’t had any hallucinations in awhile – he’s been sleeping solidly for a long time now. Tony really pulled through in getting Steve a bed like the quinjet’s benches. There’s no reason for his brain to play him like that. Except Natasha doesn’t want him withdrawing too far back into himself. Isolation is one of the factors that contributed to Steve’s poor sleeping habits after all.

“It’s fine, Nat,” Steve says. “I’m just going to paint and probably hit the hay. Last week’s excursion to the arctic was a little too much.”

“Felt like jumping back in the ice?” Natasha teases.

Steve laughs.

“I don’t think I ever want to be cold again,” Steve says, shaking his head. “But if I ever get the desire to crash my plane, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“God knows I’m the only one who could stop you,” Natasha says smiling.

Natasha drags her hand across Steve’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. The thing about Natasha’s statement is that it’s not untrue. These days, she could talk him off the ledge. They’ve gotten more comfortable with opening up and trusting each other. Steve’s overjoyed that Natasha has chosen him to be her confidant now that Clint’s retired.

“You’re my best friend, Nat,” Steve informs her.

Natasha blinks once. And again. Then she laughs. Her genuine laughter is such a wonderful noise. Steve smiles at her and she smiles back. Who ever thought they’d be in this position?

“You’re becoming a sap in your old age, Rogers,” she says. “But you’re my best friend too.”

“Good, I was afraid you were going to leave me hanging,” Steve says.

“I’m an assassin, not heartless,” Natasha says. “I’ll see you later, Steve. Try not to get into too much trouble while we’re gone.”

“Who me?” Steve asks, pretending to be completely innocent.

Natasha only gives him one last smile before leaving him be.

Steve’s painting stalls while he listens to the other Avengers get ready to leave. Sam and Natasha are arguing good naturedly over which car they should drive. It’s always an ordeal when the Avengers decide to leave the compound for reasons other than world ending catastrophe. Eventually, Steve sees them driving off in Natasha’s jet black corvette. He laughs, knowing Sam lost that argument.

Sam generally loses against Natasha.

He watches the car disappear into the trees before returning to the portrait. Pepper’s starting to come to life on the canvas after weeks of prep. Steve’s worried about ruining it, since painting isn’t his favourite media. Mostly he sticks to charcoal and pencil drawings, but sometimes he has to pull in all he learned from the art classes he took with Bucky.

They learned to paint together. Steve was always better, since he had two years of art school under his belt. Bucky gave it an admirable effort and Steve insisted on displaying Bucky’s art in their apartment. They could sell Steve’s for something – but Bucky’s, Steve wanted to be able to wake up each day and see Bucky’s attempt to capture Steve everyday.

Steve wonders what happened to that painting that made Steve look more like a gremlin than himself. There would be a splatter of blue paint in the corner from where Steve flicked it at Bucky and missed. Bucky had started the paint fight, but Steve was the one to get caught. Thankfully Bucky was charming enough and Steve was talented enough that they didn’t get kicked out for wasting paint.

“Who’s the dame?”

Steve jerks around to see the Winter Soldier standing in the doorway. His body is loose and casual. Immediately, Steve recognizes this as Bucky and not Winter Soldier. Bucky is staring directly at the painting, eyes wide like it’s shaken something loose inside of him.

“It’s Pepper, she’s Tony’s girl,” Steve say looking back and smiling at the painting.

It's not accurate to Pepper as belonging to someone. She is her own person, after all. It's just easy for Steve to revert to his former speech patterns around people of his past.

“That’s Howard’s son,” Bucky states and it sounds like he’s testing out the information.

Steve nods, encouraging Bucky to give out all the information he can.

“Do you still have questions?” Steve asks.

“Less,” Bucky replies. “I remember more, not all but I know about who I am – or was.”

“Can I call you Bucky?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods. Steve sets his paintbrush aside and stands up to join Bucky in the entranceway. Bucky backs up slightly into the hallway, so Steve leaves a berth between them.

“I’m not the person you knew, Steve,” Bucky cautions.

“I’m not the same guy you knew either,” Steve counters, using the age old argument he always has with Natasha.

Bucky bobs his head. He accepts Steve’s answer. For now.

“Why are you here?” Steve asks.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Bucky says honestly, voice crackling. “I always have this feeling in my head like you’re not okay. And I saw what happened in Sokovia, not that I’m surprised you got yourself into that mess.”

A half smirk attempts to form on Bucky’s face. It’s like Bucky has an idea what he’d say in regard to Steve’s reckless behaviour, but isn’t entirely confident in himself. Feeling the need to encourage him, Steve reaches out and gently puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He stiffens at the contact. Steve doesn’t immediately let go since the reaction is brief. Bucky soon relaxes under the touch.

“I’m right here, pal. I’m safe and breathing,” Steve says. “I have friends, some I might even call my family.”

“That’s good,” Bucky says, voice somewhat strangled. “I’m glad.”

Steve thinks Bucky is on the thought train that he might not have a place with Steve anymore. But just because Steve has other people in his life, doesn’t mean he can’t also have room for Bucky. Steve will always have a place for Bucky in his life. Bucky’s bad thoughts must be dispelled as soon as possible.

“You could stay here,” Steve offers. “Everyone would accept you.”

Bucky shakes his head.

“I’m dangerous, Steve,” he says. “I can’t be around others – I can’t be around you.”

“Okay,” Steve accepts, but his is mouth dry. “There will always be a place here though for you.”

He wishes he could help Bucky – take away all his pain. Finally Steve understands how helpless Bucky must’ve felt when Steve lay near death, sick for some reason, all of those times. Maybe this is karma.

“I just have one question,” Bucky says.

“Whatever you need, Buck,” Steve says.

Bucky closes his eyes and swallows once. It’s forceful. Bucky very clearly working up the courage to ask him. After a brief moment, his eyes open and meet Steve’s. Steve breath is taken away at the clarity in Bucky’s eyes. This is Bucky, without a doubt.

“Did you love me?” Bucky asks.

“Of course I did,” Steve says automatically. “You were my best friend – we were like brothers.”

“No,” Bucky says, shaking his head and then shuts his eyes tightly. “Not like that. In love with me. I think I knew. The memories I have of, the way you looked at me when you weren’t sure I was looking. I don’t know if I knew. But gaining the memories back, I see it all from a different perspective.”

The answer is yes. It’s probably been yes far longer than Steve knows. But the moment of clarity was when Steve was seventeen. Sarah Rogers had just been diagnosed with tuberculosis and it was required that she be moved from the Rogers’ home. After moving his mother, Steve found he had lost his money for the train. The day really got back when it started to rain.

Knowing the risks for his health, but having no other choice, Steve began to walk home. Then out of nowhere, Bucky showed up. Shivering and wet, Bucky arrived like Steve’s guardian angel. He was warm and ready to make sure Steve did not get sick.

“I just had this feelin’ that something was wrong,” Bucky had said, immediately wrapping his thick date jacket around Steve’s shoulders. “I got money for the train. Let’s go to my place. Ma will make you cocoa and we’ll wait out the rain together.”

Later Steve had realized Bucky had been picking up his date. When he felt the first drop of rain, something just didn’t feel right. So Bucky immediately went searching for Steve and spent the last of his money getting them both home on the train.

That evening, when Steve was watching Bucky leave from his porch – Steve knew he was in love with his best friend.

“You said you’d tell me,” Bucky says, sensing Steve’s trepidation.

“Not technically,” Steve retorts, crossing his arms defensively.

“You were always a punk,” Bucky says fondly.

Steve bites his lip.

“You’re such a jerk.”

Bucky gives a small, shy smile. He’s testing the waters with Steve, learning what it means to be himself by using Steve as practice.

“Yes, Buck. I did love you,” Steve says awkwardly and then clears his throat. “I’ve been in love with you. Since I was seventeen, probably longer.”

Bucky nods.

“Thank you,” he says. “I should go.”

“What? I admit that and all I get is ‘thank you?’” Steve demands, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed.

“I don’t know what I can offer you,” Bucky says honestly. “Give me some time, Steve.”

Steve exhales. That’s reasonable. Bucky doesn’t even remember if he was aware of Steve’s feelings or not. In the back of his mind, Steve really hopes he wasn’t that obvious.

“Okay, Buck. You can go,” Steve says. “Be safe.”

“You too. Let the Widow watch out for you, she’s good for you.”

“Yeah, she is,” Steve says smiling.

Steve waits underneath the threshold while he watches Bucky walk away. Who knows when they’ll see each again?

The way Bucky is appearing and reappearing makes Steve miss the hallucinations. At least those ones were consistent in when they showed up. Steve can’t control the real’s Bucky’s actions.

He’s more like a ghost than he’s ever been before.

XXXXXX

“He’s asking for you,” one of the nurses says.

Steve looks up from the desk in the room T’Challa had offered him. It’s Spartan and made for warriors, as T’Challa described it. It fits Steve all too well. Steve’s been reading into the Raft’s design, attempting to find flaws.

“Surgery went well?” Steve asks the nurse.

She nods.

“The arm was removed with minimal damage to Mr. Barnes’ nervous system and surrounding tissues,” she says smiling.

“I’m glad. Thank you for your hard work,” Steve says. “I’d like to thank the others on the surgical team as well.”

The nurse nods and leads Steve over to the recovery room. Since T’Challa offered Bucky safe harbour, Steve has known that Bucky wants to go back into cryo. Steve’s reasoning against cry is selfish, so he needs to do what Bucky wants. Bucky getting a choice in his life is the most important thing right now. T’Challa has assured them that Bucky will be completely safe here. Steve believes T’Challa, he really does, but Steve’s also seen the force people use to get to Bucky.

As soon as Bucky’s completely recovered from surgery and deemed healthy enough, he’ll be put in cryo. The doctor Steve spoke to early mentioned that the recovery will only be a few days at the most. Bucky is a quick healer and has managed to keep himself relatively healthy over the past couple of years.

“Captain Rogers?” the nurse says, peering at him curiously.

“Just Steve,” he says weakly, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

Being called captain right now makes Steve feel somewhat uneasy.

“Of course,” she says nodding. “Here is Mr. Barnes' room.”

“Thank you,” Steve says nodding.

She smiles at him and heads back down the way they came. Steve pushes the door open and enters a warm grey room. The windows are massive, overlooking the beauty that is Wakanda. Bucky turns from admiring the view himself to smile softly at Steve. When T’Challa had indicated Bucky’s need for surgery, Bucky had requested a brightly lit room with windows. T’Challa certainly delivered.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks.

“Sore, tired,” Bucky answers softly.

Steve steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. Beside Bucky’s bed is chair already set up for guests. He casually makes his way over and sits down. Things have been subdued between them since Siberia.

“Are you going to be okay?” Steve asks. “I mean, the last time you were in cryo – it wasn’t great.”

“I’m in better hands,” Bucky says. “And I trust you. And I trust T’Challa, even though he tried to kill me.”

Steve laughs faintly.

“What will you do?” Bucky asks. “Are you going to stay here?”

Steve shakes his head. He can’t stay here. It will be a damn pain knowing that Bucky is so close, but Steve can’t talk to or see him. It’s better to put distance between them.

“My friends were captured,” Steve says, thinking of the message Natasha had sent him.

Now she’s on the run because of Steve too. They’ll probably meet up and devise a plan to break the others out of the Raft. God only knows what Ross has there to keep Wanda contained.

“And you have to go get them. Should I be jealous?” Bucky teases.

“Considering how much further I went for you?” Steve says laughing. “I don’t think so.”

They stay quiet for a few minutes after that. Bucky goes back to staring out the window, while Steve looks at his hands. Everything that has happened to get Bucky safe – it’s really messed up the nice life Steve had going for himself. Not that Steve begrudges Bucky for any of that. If they were in the reverse positions, Bucky would go to hell and back for Steve.

Steve is looking forward to seeing Sam and Natasha again. His list of people to thank and possibly beg for forgiveness from is certainly growing longer. He’ll likely have to ask Natasha for her forgiveness most of all. She’d just wanted to keep them all together, but Steve had made damn well sure that wasn’t going to happen. He had chosen Bucky over her. She knows about how deep Steve’s feeling run. Hopefully she’ll understand and one day forgive Steve.

“Are you still getting hallucinations?” Bucky asks suddenly.

“No,” Steve says, surprised at the question. “You remember that?”

“How could I not? You were completely aware I was there but chose to ignore me,” Bucky says. “You had no idea if I was there to kill you or not.”

Bucky says it in the way he use to hear Sarah Rogers talk. It’s kind of funny how Bucky learned how to scold Steve from Sarah.

“In my defense, I knew you weren’t going to hurt me,” Steve says. “You had no reason to.”

“Look pal, there is no possible way you could know I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Bucky retorts, annoyed. “Look what happened the moment someone got that book! That’s why I need the cryo.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about that, Bucky,” Steve says softly. “I’m letting you choose. For the first time, you get a choice.”

“I chose you, didn’t I?” Bucky says, giving a half grin. “And that turned out pretty damn great, if I do say so myself. Captain America is my guardian angel.”

“I’m not Captain America anymore,” Steve says, hanging his head down low.

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I never cared if you were Captain America or not. All I care about was that you’re that same punk from Brooklyn I rescued from a fight he couldn’t win.”

“I could win that fight,” Steve says indignantly.

“Sure ya could, pal,” Bucky says mostly to humour Steve, then he sobers up. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay when I’m in cryo?”

“I will be,” Steve says. “It’ll take some time, but we’ve gone 70 years without each other. A few more years while they figure out how to get HYDRA’s programming out of your head will be fine.”

Bucky smiles.

“Natasha will keep you in order while I’m out,” Bucky says. “She’s a good one.”

“How can I get in any trouble when you’re taking all the stupid with you?” Steve says giving Bucky a light punch in the shoulder.

Bucky laughs at the callback. It’s a good reference because they were reunited after that farewell. They will see each other again. The two of them lapse back into silence. It’s not awkward but it’s certainly unfamiliar. They never use to know how to be quiet around each other. They were always talking, cracking jokes and teasing each other. The silence is just a new feature Steve will have to get use to. It’s not just Bucky’s transformation that has brought on this silence, but Steve’s as well. They’ll adjust. They always do.

“I knew,” Bucky says once again breaking the silence.

“Knew what, Buck?” Steve asks perking up.

“That you loved me. I’ve always known,” Bucky says quietly.

He won’t make eye contact with Steve.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers. “I never meant to.”

Bucky lets out of bark of laughter and reaches out grab Steve’s bicep.

“No one chooses who they fall in love with, Steve,” Bucky says. “And can I blame you, I was a catch in 1935.”

He waggles his eyebrows at Steve and Steve can’t help the laughter that bubbles up. It’s an awkward and uncomfortable topic and laughter helps to diffuse it.

“There’s no need to apologize. I should be the one saying sorry,” Bucky continues serious once again. “I knew and I didn’t say anything. I was a coward and hoping you’d get over me. Even then I didn’t think I was worth your time.”

“Me? Bucky, seriously?” Steve asks. “I didn’t think I was worth it to you.”

“You inspire me Steve. You’ve inspired since I first saw you,” Bucky admits. “You’ve never let anything stop you. I was an overachiever as a kid, but I never stood up for things the way you did.”

“How long?” Steve asks, everything dawning on him.

“Remember when you insisted we keep that horrible picture that I painted of you?” Bucky asks. “The one where you look like a demon with the paint splattered in the corner?”

“The painting that almost got us kicked out of art class,” Steve says faintly.

“Your indignation when I wanted to throw it away,” Bucky says. “That’s the day.”

Steve slumps back in his chair as he and Bucky stare mutely at each other.

“We’re a couple of chumps, Buck,” Steve says, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“You’re just dense,” Bucky points out. “C’mon Steve I was the chump here. I knew and I didn’t say anything.”

“God we’re always too late,” Steve says, frustrated.

He stands and starts to pace around the room. Bucky just dropped this bomb on him. How is Steve supposed to walk away from all this knowing that they could’ve been together? That’s wistful thinking, considering the climate of their past. Steve’s been pining for years thinking that Bucky would only love him as a brother. And here they are. Cheeks flushed after mutually implied confessions.

“We’re getting our second chance, Steve,” Bucky says. “Sit down, your pacing is going to wear through the floors.”

Steve stands at the foot of Bucky’s bed, hands on his hips.

“More like fourth chance, Buck,” he says wryly. “How many more are we gonna get?”

“Well considering everything we’ve gone through, I think we’re owed a few more,” Bucky says. “Come here, punk.”

Steve feels rooted to the spot. Bucky sighs, flopping his hand on the bed.

“There’s going to be no more drama after this, Steve,” Bucky says, exasperated. “When I get this programming out of my head, we’ll do this right.”

Steve feels apprehensive. He’s spent years chasing Bucky’s ghost and trying to put away his feelings for Bucky’s safety and health. But now he’s looking at the chance right in the face and Steve can’t help but feel like it’s a cruel joke. Like someone is going to jump out and shout ‘just kidding!’ There’ll be a camera and a video of Steve’s stupid shocked face all over the internet.

“Oh my god, Steve, don’t make me get out this bed. I’ll rip my stitches and the doc will yell at us both,” Bucky says, starting to pull the covers off.

Seeing the obvious pain in the movement, Steve hurries to Bucky’s side. Steve grabs his shoulder and gently pushes Bucky back down.

“Works every time,” Bucky grunts.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t abuse my concern for your safety this way,” Steve says blandly.

Bucky smiles at him. It’s that warm, fond smile that Bucky reserved for Steve. Taking Steve’s hand from his shoulder, Bucky delicately wraps his hand around Steve’s wrist and tugs him forward. Caught off guard, Steve nearly falls on top of Bucky. Fortunately Steve’s quick reflexes stop him. His free arm shoots out, landing next to Bucky’s torso.

Pulling him in close, Bucky clearly signals his plan of action. Swallowing, Steve nods. He’s wanted this for so long – it all feels like a dream. It’s like back when they were on leave, their breaths mingling together. Except this time Bucky is sober and not about to leap away from Steve.

“Goddamn Rogers, I have to do all the fucking work around here,” Bucky murmurs lowly.

Steve rolls his eyes as Bucky moves in the final few centimeters. The kiss doesn’t last very long. It’s short and sweet. Steve needs who pulls away, his position far too uncomfortable for anything prolonged.

“Am I that bad?” Bucky teases.

“Nothing about you is bad,” Steve tells him honestly.

“Wonder what the world would say if they knew their hero was such a sap,” Bucky says. “Do you think the docs will have a problem with you sleeping here?”

“I’m not really in the mood to fight them,” Steve says, already removing his shoes.

Bucky shuffles over to give Steve some space. It’s going to be cramped, but it reminds Steve of when they were kids and camping out in the Barnes’ living room. Or in the cold nights of their apartment and they couldn’t pay for heat so they just curled up together. Or even in the army, when they’d roll out their sleeping mats and fit together like puzzle pieces underneath the stars.

Steve’s actually grateful for Bucky’s lack of arm at this point. There’s more room for Steve in the bed this way. He doesn’t say it out loud, but Steve’s sure Bucky would get a kick out it. Bucky is gaining a good sense of humour about these things

“Do you still hog all the blankets or have you grown out of that?” Bucky asks.

“Sam says that I’m like a ‘goddamn caterpillar about to become a butterfly,’’” Steve replies, chuckling at the memory.

“You’d be a beautiful butterfly,” Bucky says, comment broken up by a yawn. “Sorry I can’t talk much longer.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says.

He’ll feeling kind of tired too.

“I love you, Steve,” Bucky murmurs, eyes already fluttering shut.

“I love you too.”

Bucky gives him a sweet smile before falling asleep. It’s not long until Bucky’s breathing slows and he’s fast asleep. Steve’s pleased to see how easily Bucky sleeps. Perhaps it’s still the surgery, but it’s nice to see Bucky’s face unmarred by nightmares.

Breathing in deeply Steve tilts his head to look out the window. The forests surrounding Wakanda give it a deeply isolated feeling. It’s a little disconcerting, but Steve appreciates it for Bucky’s safety. He looks back at Bucky, face only slightly aged since Steve last saw it so peaceful.

“We’re going to be fine,” Steve whispers.

It isn’t long before sleep takes him as well. A weight has been shifted off of his shoulders. Steve Rogers is no longer Atlas nor is he the keeper of James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky’s able to tell his own story instead of haunting Steve.

end.