fossilised | For Steve

It might not even have the same intended effect if they did it this way. Before, Captain America had nearly a whole year to permeate the consciousness of the public, he made appearances right across the states and got more and more popular as he went. Comics and movies were made about his character, all sorts of propaganda to help fuel the war effort. When he turned out to be a real hero on top of that, it cemented him in the eyes of the people.

But one guy with muscles who happened to rescue a bunch of other guys? That wasn't Captain America, that was just a well-trained government soldier. There was nothing that could be done about that, though, no way to fix it.

"It was Steve," he said, voice uncharacteristically breaking a bit. He could see it in his mind's eye, a clear memory from the murky depths of his mind. "Steve came for me, not the Captain, and it was Steve that saved me. That's why I followed him, he was still the same even under the muscles."

Steve could feel his teeth working. His jaw was clenched but his teeth were grinding away, back and forth, and he swallowed what tasted like bile. This poor man-- He'd come back here for what? For a scrawny little kid from Brooklyn that couldn't manage one walk across the city on a cool spring night? Whose fate had been damaged and then sealed by Bucky's return to him?

This wasn't what happened last time. Steve found this doctor himself, he underwent the procedure himself, he became a hero himself. He didn't hate this version of his best friend from taking that from him so much as he was sorrowful that he couldn't be the Steve with the muscles to ride into town and save the day.

"I don't think you know what it's like for me," Steve said after a moment or two, once he could get his jaw moving again properly. "You saved me," he stressed. You came for me. And that's why I've been following you around ever since. I'm not the hero here, Buck. Maybe... You're suppose to be that guy this time."

Bucky lacked the memories currently to explain why that was all wrong, but he knew it down to his soul. He wasn't the hero. He had never been the hero, and he had done too much now to ever make him the hero in the future. He knew Steve was the hero, had always been, but how to explain that without knowing why he knew?

"No, it has to be you. You're Captain America, not me, not anyone else."

He pushed himself up and out of the bath finally to go and grab a couple of towels, holding one out to Steve to take before he even thought of drying himself.

"We'll track down Erskine, make it happen."

Steve was left nodding and quiet, wrapping the towel fully around himself because he could. He felt a little ridiculous, trying to imagine what it must be like to be Bucky's size, and chalked it all up as fantasy. But it wasn't. He'd seen the photograph. There were probably more in that book of Bucky's but Steve wasn't going to go digging.

He headed back out to the sofa, dressing after removing his wet underwear in his only other pair of pajamas before he sat down again. His hair wsas still wet but it was warm enough in here that he wouldn't catch a cold. The picture he had drawn was left out on the table and golden light was already filling the beautiful room Bucky had purchased for them for the next two nights.

He took the blanket that he had been meaning to give Bucky and pulled it over himself instead, huddled up on the sofa.

"You'll come with me, right? We can do the most good if we're together, Buck."

"Yeah."

Bucky hesitated only a second before he reached down and plucked up Steve, blanket and all, into his arms as though the man weighed absolutely nothing at all; which, with the serum enhancing his already trained muscles, he may as well have done. He carried the Steve-blanket-bundle through to the bedroom and put him down on the bed.

"I won't leave you, I'll protect you."

And that apparently started now. No asthmatic idiot with a weak immune system was going to be taking the couch, he would have the bed with the full duvet and pillows. Whether he was the Soldier or Bucky, once he had an objective then he pursued it with dogged determination, it didn't matter if that was getting a date with some pretty red-head or killing a diplomat from half a mile away.

Steve wasn't a pretty redhead. He wasn't a diplomat. There was no one here to date or to kill, just Steve Rogers with damp hair being carried to bed by some hulking version of his best friend who happened to be from the future, was incredible rich, had a metal arm and was saying things that made him feel as if lightning would strike him down.

Though he never ran away from a fight, he almost wanted to just let go of this one and be protected and cared for. He could protect and care for himself, of course, but come on. This slippery slope to sin was just so warm and so easy.

Steve freed his arms and sat up after Bucky tucked him tightly into the sheets, having to squirm to do so. He tried scowling but with that face, scowling just didn't work.

"I can walk, okay? My legs work fine. You should have-- Next time just say I should take the bed. It's plenty big for both of us anyway."

Plenty big enough for both of them seemed to be an invitation. It actually soothed Bucky to hear it for a few reasons. The Soldier in him knew that he had been given an order to take the bed, and Steve was blond haired and blue eyed just like all his other handlers, so he wanted to obey. The bits of Bucky in him wanted to be close in case Steve had another relapse in the night. And both sides of him wanted to remain by his target, his friend.

So he discarded the towel, leaving him naked as the day he was born, and slipped beneath the sheets without another word to flop down beside Steve. His own skin was warm, a contrast to the always cool poor circulation of Steve, and he shifted to press his body to Steve's to lend him some of that heat.

"Go to sleep. We'll look for Erskine tomorrow."

He will protect Steve, he will give him the future he deserves, one where he doesn't crash a plane and miss out on his life with Peggy as a hero, one where his best friend actually stays dead and good memories can be preserved.

Sleep was suddenly the very last thing going through Steve's head at the moment, even as Bucky told him that his life could very well change tomorrow just as soon as he let sleep take him. How could that happen, though, when there was a still somewhat damp man pressed against his body as if he belonged there?

Bucky and he shared a bed when Steve was bad off, or when his apartment couldn't get warm enough and Steve was too stubborn to slink over to the Barnes' when they already shared so much with him and putting them out another meal or more sheets to be cleaned just went above and beyond what he could accept. When that happened, they slept back to back as any men might do in close quarters and only touched accidentally, one or the other sliding away unless Steve was shivering...and then again, once he stopped.

The rules of male friends were not as complicated as they could be in the future, but it was enough to know that Bucky shouldn't be with him like this and that he should not take advantage of his friend, obviously ailing and not knowing what he was doing, like this.

"Buck, you don't..." He found the fight sinking out of him, mostly because he was so warm and so comforting. Steve's own yawn cut him off and he sighed into a silk encased pillow, hair sticking out everywhere. "Uh...just remember it's me, okay?" He didn't want to be strangled in his sleep.

Perhaps there had been a time when Bucky knew the proprieties of how two men should behave, but that had been hammered out of him a long time ago. Even before the Soldier, men stuck in the horrors of frontline warfare often forgot the niceties and shame that came with nudity. In freezing temperatures, you huddled together or you didn't survive, and people stopped judging. As the Soldier, he hadn't even been human, so his nakedness was not a thing to comment on. He had been used for warmth before, ordered to strip, why should this be any different.

"No sudden movements."

He would try to remember, and he thought Steve would be mostly safe, but only if he made sure to keep his movements to a minimum so as not to trigger his reflexes. His arms, one flesh and one metal, wound around Steve properly to hold him in a cocoon of warmth. Innocent.

"Go to sleep."

Steve squirmed just a little bit until Bucky's arms found a comfortable spot against him. He would only need to suffer one night of this, he told himself. One night, he could enjoy it for what it was and then move on again. So he thought. So he hoped. At least he didn't stay conscious long at all and a soft, wheezing breath that signaled he was asleep was followed by a more even, unarrested breathing of clear lungs.

Steve wrapped his arms around those holding him and the breath on the back of his neck gave him a heavenly sort of protection that he really hoped he wouldn't need in the morning.

It would be relatively easy finding Dr. Erskine, however. He wasn't listed in a phone book but the recruitment center in Queens knew him well. They mentioned a barrack in New Jersey, which of course, was unlisted. Steve thanked the clerk anyway. "That's the place," Steve said, cheeks rosier than usual and fully dressed with a good and filling breakfast in him. "That's where we go!"

He had jotted the information down next to the sketch he had done of Bucky and was already casting around for his suspenders and shoes.

"Think we can hitch a ride?"

Bucky hadn't slept during the night, he had been too oddly conscious of Steve in his arms and the subtle rise and fall of his chest. He had spent those hours digging for memories instead, for clues as to who he was, who Steve was, and why it felt so natural to protect him. Of course he knew what he had read at the museum already, but it was very different reading about something to actually feeling it.

"We'll take a car."

He gathered his belongings into his backpack, he wasn't about to leave anything here in case they didn't return that night, and slung it over his back. He wasn't going to trust random strangers to get a ride from, who knew if they were actually spies undercover? It was excessive, perhaps, but a paranoia that served him well until now.

"I can drive." Not something he could do before, now he thought about it, they hadn't the money for that sort of thing. It was the army that had taught him to drive and ride a motorcycle, same with Steve. "C'mon, let's go, pal." The term of endearment slipped out accidentally, leaving him blinking at himself in surprise.

Best to move on.

He slipped out of the door and down to the street, choosing a random car and easily breaking the lock by pulling hard enough on the door handle.

"Get in."

"Woah! Hey, Buck, this isn't ours!" Steve wanted to find Erskine, he wanted to meet his destiny and find Bucky and help this Bucky and save the day, but they could do it without being thieves. "The person who has this car might need it for his wife and kids. Or his job. If we take it, we might be condemning s man simply for our convenience!"

It was better not to ask Steve Rogers to do illegal things unless those illegal things were unavoidable or the law was a bad one that did more harm than good.

Thou shalt not steal, however, was one of God's great commandments and that was for a reason. The harm stealing caused to others was a sin.

So no. All 95 pounds of Steve Rogers was holding his ground and not getting in that car.

Bucky scowled over at Steve and half considered just picking him up and putting him in the car, but that might draw attention to what they were doing and get the cops involved. He would rather not have to run from the authorities today if possible.

"Then we'll bring it back later."

He had never returned any vehicle that he had stolen and he didn't intend to start now, but if it would get Steve in the car...

"We have to get to Erskine and I'm not hitching lifts, get in."

Though Steve didn’t look so sure, if they were going to return the car later, it would probably be all right. “And you’ll leave him some money for the gas we use to,” Steve said before he climbed inside. It was rare for him to be inside of a car like this. The leather under his hands was pretty remarkable and he found himself putting down the window as soon as they hit the tunnel and shot off into New Jersey from the island of Manhattan.

With the wind in his hair, the sun warming the day, Steve looked happy. It was easy to believe that this was the guy from last night, wheezing and forced into a steam bath because he could hardly breathe. If Bucky remembered anything that was good about his friendship with Steve Rogers, it should be days like this when it was just them, when they were off on some adventure with a blue sky above them and the promise of freedom from their otherwise hard lives.

“Camp Lehigh,” Steve was saying for the third time, feeling a mixture of confusion and excitement in his stomach as he turned to look at Bucky. “I’ve never really heard of it. I thought everyone did basic training at one of the forts, you know?” But this was not just a regular training facility. Even Steve could sense that as they got closer. It didn’t look like anything out of the film reels to advertise enlistment.

Bucky was prepared for them to be stopped, they weren't authorised personnel and there was no reason to be here. He hoped they could just ask for Erskine and wait outside, he'd cooperate with that sort of command, but he was fully prepared to have to leave and sneak in later to grab Erskine and get him out himself.

"You sure about this?"

It was almost a rhetorical question, because of course Bucky knew that Steve was sure. He wasn't the sort of man to turn away from his destiny just because it might be a little dangerous to pursue it. So he pulled up in front of the entrance where a soldier ran out to the driver's side window and another trained a gun on them from the sentry station.

"Name and rank, sirs? Business here?"

"We're here to see Dr. Erskine."

There was a pause. “Who? I’m sorry, this is training facility, not a medical one. You’ll need to turn around.” It was a lie, and not really a convincing one, which had Steve leaning across Bucky, one hand on the back of the seat.

“We were told he was here,” he insisted, which made the young private frown.

“You were told wrong. Turn the car around. Authorized personnel only.”

“But—“ Steve was cut off by the private leaving the driver’s window to hand motion the two of them away from crossroad. The blond looked dejected for a moment before he turned fully around in the seat and grabbed the map they’d found out of the back. “There’s another access road. It should be dark in two hours.” Evidently, Steve had the same idea as his friend.

And he was a little more willing to lie and cheat his way into the army than he was to steal cars.

Well, that went about as well as could be expected. They were lucky that Bucky had managed to restrain himself when he felt a gun being trained on him, but he wasn't about to risk Steve's life if he could help it. Sneaking into the base might very well do that, they'd probably be seen as Nazi spies and shot on sight if seen.

He drove about two miles away to an abandoned bit of country road and parked off to the side, sitting back in the driver's seat to look over at Steve.

"Probably safer if I bring him out to you."

He could take a bullet better than Steve could, if it came to that.

“Buck, you can’t just kidnap people.” But Steve was pretty sure he would just get them both in trouble if he went, too. He was slow, he wasn’t athletic, and there was only so much a lot of heart and bravery could get a person. Then again, that’s exactly what Erskine needed to see when it came to a potential candidate for Project Rebirth. There was a reason he picked Steve, after all. The blond might not know it yet, but this was important for him to do. “I’m going with you.”

And he put his foot down about that, pushing out of the car to enjoy a little bit of fresh air uncongested by the city’s sights and smells. Steve would always be a Brooklyn boy, but he was also a young man who happened to enjoy laying around in soft grass when the sun was warm. They had some time and while yes, Bucky could leave him here, he doubted he would.

On his back, Steve gazed up at the sky and wondered where he’d be tomorrow or the day after. If this didn’t work, he’d have to find another way to get himself over to Europe. Captain America-- That was just one silly option.

Especially now that there was some money to be had to get him to war.

He might be watching the clouds roll by but Steve’s mind was on a romanticized combat situation. There was death and hardship, but he had no idea how horrible it truly was.

It was enviable, the way that Steve could just lay back in the grass as if his life could be narrowed down to a peaceful few hours, something that Bucky found impossible to replicate. He attempted, for all of two minutes, to sit down beside the scrawnier man and just watch the clouds. But this idyllic setting, this company, it all itched with its wrongness. This wasn't who he was any more, no matter how he might wish differently.

So he spent the few hours until night had fallen scouting the area and pulling down branches and debris from the surrounding countryside to cover the car in order to camouflage it from anyone who happened to come by while they were away. He wasn't afraid for himself for tonight, he had infiltrated places with a lot higher security, but he usually didn't have an asthmatic friend tagging along behind him.

Finally, when night had properly come, he came to stand over Steve.

"It's time. You have to stick close to me and let me call the shots."

"You got it," Steve said easily, heart racing in his chest as he followed Bucky down to where they could get entry into the camp. Steve hadn't anticipated the barb wire fence and he looked at it was trepidation before Bucky revealed that he had already cut part of the coiling away so Steve could slip through. The blond gave a thumbs up, even when the cut wire tore at his clothing and scratched his arm. It wasn't bad, just a little blood, nothing to even worry about having to stop to wrap up.

Watching Bucky in action, though, that might need to get him some medical attention. Steve was in awe of what his friend was capable of, sneaking them around, avoiding sentries, even putting one in a headlock until he passed out silently and was left slumped in the shadows. Steve had checked for and found a pulse before leaving him, breathing hard as he stuck close to Bucky as commanded.

Erskine would be alone in a little room with many vials and a lot of alcohol, pacing. He hadn't found the right one, the candidate he knew for certain would make his serum work. He'd been looking for six months now and the Army wasn't willing to sit on it.

In a few days, they'd do their first tests. Erskine was pretty sure it would fail. So he was drowning his sorrows.

Bucky became less himself and more the Soldier as he worked. His expression set into a neutral mask that never even wavered as he choked out guards or silently neutralised security systems - rudimentary, nothing like the fibre optic cameras and pressure pads that he had to get past in the future to get at his targets. The only difference was that he made sure none of his actions were lethal to others.

When he finally found the right door, having recognised Erskine from the photographs he had seen at the Smithsonian, he pushed Steve inside the room and quickly followed. The handle was then bent in a way that prevented it from being opened, the metal yielding easily to a grip fuelled by the serum that Erskine hadn't even given to anyone yet.

"Dr. Erskine," he said, stepping forward to take the lead. "This is Steve Rogers, and he's your candidate for the super soldier program."

No ifs or buts, no choice. He was quite prepared to take the serum himself and give it to Steve if that's what it took. But no, that wasn't right... this wasn't about the strength, this was about giving him the future of Captain America.

Needless to say, but Steve and the doctor were extremely confused at that moment. The 5’4” blond gazed up at the doctor and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, sir, this is a little unorthodox, I know, but—“

“You have something to do with the temporal anomalies New York suffered for a few months,” Erskine said, cutting Steve off before he was looking at Bucky. That gaze didn’t hold for long. “And you…you’re the man that lied over a dozen times attempted to enlist in the war.”

How Erskine knew that was one of those confusing, but ultimately unimportant things about this particular meeting. Steve didn’t shrink from the sudden scrutiny. He just forged ahead. “I’m meant to become Captain America, sir. And we don’t have a lot of time. I missed my first opportunity to meet you and there are terrible things about to happen in the war that we need to stop. Can you help us?”

Erskine felt his pulse quicken even past the sedating effect of the alcohol in his system; what had been a terrible night was about to turn around, he had kept going back to enlistment centres in the hopes of running into this scrawny kid to question him further. Find out why he wanted to go to war, find out what sort of man he was... and now he could see it plain as day in front of him, it shone in his eyes and in his stance.

"Yes, of course I can help you!" Stupid, he shouldn't just agree, but he could feel himself being swept along. "But I don't have the authority to help you so quickly, you need to go through basic training and prove yourself before I can submit you officially for this experiment."

Captain America, hm? Why would they name him so much, surely he would be the first of many super soldiers? His eyes drifted to the other man, itching to find out what he had to do with the anomalies too. Something about him was terrifying, however, cold and deadly.

Basic training. “I can do that.” Steve was solemn about it. “But Buck, my friend, he needs to stay with me. We’re in this together.” To the end of the line…and maybe even passed that too, considering what they had been through. “Just tell me where to sign and where to go.”

Erskine needed to tamper with some files first, which meant that Bucky would need to let him out of the room and trust him to return on his own when he managed to get together a few IDs and some bunk assignments. Camp Lehigh wasn’t run like most military establishments. With it’s secretive nature, it was impossible to fall quite so strictly in line with the rest. It was through that reason alone that Steve and Bucky would be enlisted, the latter under the name Bucky Barnes since James Buchanan Barnes was already off at war. It happened all so fast that by the time that Steve found himself in the hallway, Bucky next to him, uniforms in hand, being taken to the barracks, he was glowing and buzzing and so nervous that he was grinning.

This-- This was what his life had needed.

A purpose. A real purpose. That buzz lasted right up until the candidate soldiers happened to see what walked through the door. They had been training for weeks now and all of them laughed at scrawny Steve Rogers when their escort moved aside and stopped blocking him from view.

“Yo, Sarg, you’re serious?”

It was a terrible idea to enlist Bucky Barnes for basic training again, he was too unstable and still didn't have enough control over who he was to make this not a disaster. He had seventy years of training and a lot of serum under his belt to put him ahead of all of these other recruits now too, surely it wouldn't be too long before he ended up killing one of them by mistake.

"Did I say you could ask questions, Jackson? Shut the hell up."

A round of laughter followed this and one of the others playfully smacked the offended across the back of the head, but all of them still looked at Steve with utter judgement. How did this weed get into the basic training program? And not even a normal one, but this specialised and elite camp where only the potential best were sent?

Which was about when Bucky stepped into the room behind Steve, cold eyes immediately focusing in on the ringleader. He didn't even say anything, just stared.

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