fossilised | For Steve

Bucky didn't reach out to Steve, even though the other man was never going to be any physical threat to him, at the moment it seemed like touching him would burn like the sun. He shone, radiant and bright, and Bucky felt himself sink further into the mire of his own mind. He shook his head, bad at expressing this sort of thing, but needing to try.

"No."

Well, that was a start.

"If we find him, when we find him, you won't need-- you'll have one that's-- human." He still wasn't sure all the time that this was what he was, he still felt like a weapon for more than half the time. "I can't be around him, it's too--" Weird. Surely Steve understood, he wouldn't want to stand beside the Captain America version of himself, would he? He wouldn't want to have all his flaws highlighted by the constant presence of everything he should be.

He scrubbed at his face.

"You want him, it was all for-- him. I'll find him."

Every person that Steve stood beside highlighted his flaws. No one did so more than Bucky and Steve loved him with his whole heart and was forever and entirely loyal to him. Even the Bucky that once was outshined him. Steve never minded. Bucky was the radiant one. Bucky was the one with the kind heart and the good looks and the athleticism. He had a lot of friends. He was good to everyone. So even if Steve as he was now stood beside the Steve that he could have been, he would have felt no different. It took more than strength and power, which was a very good thing because Steve didn't have either.

What he did have was someone he loved standing in front of him, crumbling.

"The Bucky that went to war never needed me," Steve pointed out. "I don't think it was because he-- you-- felt sorry for me. But if I were gone, he'd be all right. I don't want to save him because I need him or I want him, pal. I want to save him because I.... Because he would do the same for me. He's got a chance to make people happy, which I have a real bad feeling was stolen from you. This isn't about a choice. Or about wanting someone. Because if I had to chose, I'd chose you to stay with. And you already said that you want to stay with me. Ah man, this is sounding like some sort of inappropriate love poem."

Steve stuck his hand out. What was more manly than a shake?

"We save him. We send him home. And then we come back here together. And if you think the world still needs Captain America, we work with the Doctor here and Agent Carter, and we finish the program. Me. And you. What I told the General a few days ago was true, pal. I can't do any of this without you."

It was this, the heart and the true sense of selflessness, which was why Steve would always be the hero even if he didn't see it in himself. It was why he would always be the one that Bucky would end up following, not the other way around, and it was within that heart that the salvation for this Bucky might just be found.

His eyes widened almost comically wide, shock seeping through him like a bucket of cold water dumped on his head. But then he smiled. Not a big smile, not a grin, but an actual honest to god quirk of his lips upwards, and his eyes thawed. He reached past the handshake to cup his hand behind Steve's neck, a gesture more muscle memory than real memory.

"I won't leave your side."

He had been chosen, it was the least he could do.

"I'll take you to see-- who they brought back. If it's not him, we'll go and find him, I promise."

Both of them.

Steve wasn't sure how to feel with that touch so he told himself not to feel anything and instead smiled right back at his best friend. He hadn't been selfless, not that he thought at least, because his own happiness was always just bundled up with being allowed to be near Bucky. And if he could truly help the man, who never needed anything from him? Well, that was all the better.

Seeing as he had nothing left to do with his hand, Steve went for the hug instead. They were alone so it didn't matter, and that metal arm didn't bother him at all. This felt as good, and conflicting, as sleeping in Bucky's arms had been.

Erskine wanted to double check Steve's contact information for when Project Rebirth could be back online and made Bucky promise to keep training Steve in the meantime. They didn't see the General or Agent Carter before leaving, though, not that Steve really minded.

"We have to return the car," the blond pointed out as he helped Bucky remove the sticks and twigs from the hood of the one they had stashed almost a week before. "With gas money." He wasn't letting Bucky off the hook.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, but he did scribble a note that just said: Thanks for the loan, and then put a ten dollar bill folded up with it on the dashboard, enough for a whole year of gas money. He even made sure to park it back in the same spot they took it from.

He did not go with Steve to the Barnes house, that was just a bad idea. Instead, he went back to Steve's drafty little tenement and waited for him like a dog waiting for a master to come back to him.

It would not be a good visit for Steve.

The family had received Bucky's body, one of the few that made it home, and Steve was allowed to see him in his casket. He was definitely Bucky and definitely dead, he looked at peace, though, and his Ma had dressed him in his best suit ready for burial. They told him it would be next Tuesday.

It had been hard. With Bucky laid out like that in the front room, his medals and his dog tags and photos of him everywhere, Steve had barely been able to keep it together. Especially when his sister looked at him with dark circles under her eyes and muttered, in passing, how it felt to kill everyone that loved him.

Steve didn't answer her but he didn't need to. It felt like he had a mark on his chest. First his father, then his mother, and now Bucky. They were all preceding him into the ground. How? He was the sick one. He was the one that nearly died every winter that he lived lived to see. It was all a cruel joke.

Steve was left alone with the body after Bucky's mother fainted when the Army came to present her with the flag for the casket. Steve didn't say a word to the body, he just looked at him for a long time and then carefully took his hand to roll up his sleeve. The arm that Bucky lost in the train was also the arm with the three freckles by the elbow joint that looked like Orion's Belt. Boom-boom-boom, straight up.

It would tell him definitively that this was Bucky Barnes. Howling Commando. Honor to his country.

Or if, somehow, this could be an imposter. Steve couldn't help himself. He needed to know if he and his Bucky had to move on or if there was still more to do.

Unfortunately for Steve's heart, the freckles at this corpse's elbow told him that this was, undoubtedly, Bucky Barnes. No impostor. It was just the sad fact that history had been changed and Steve hadn't been at the right place or the right time. But it was probably for the better for Bucky, if he had known what it was his destiny to become then he would never have wanted to live to hurt all those people.

Bucky's mother, still wan and pale from her fainting fit, murmured to him that he was welcome in the family pew at the service but that they would like to be alone with their son now. They were all very proud of Bucky, it was an honour to give his life fighting for freedom, but that honour tasted bittersweet.

They didn't know, for how could they, that Steve had another Bucky in his apartment,

One very much alive and playing with Steve's charcoal and paper. He couldn't draw much, he had never been the artist that Steve had been, but he filled page after page with just eyes. Dark, serious, intense eyes under sharp brows. His first handler, the one who haunted his dreams the most.

It was cold that night, as cold as it had been the night that Bucky had arrived at his bedside to stare down at him as he slept, shivering. Steve wasn't sure what to feel, for while he was disappointed in himself for letting his best friend down, someone else was waiting for him. Someone else that needed him was a few blocks away in an old apartment with very poor heating, who he really shouldn't have been away from.

That didn't mean that Steve hadn't almost grasp at Bucky's hand as he laid there in his simple wooden box with a flag draped over half of it. It didn't mean that he didn't think about turning around halfway home to go back and sob like.a child over the last person on earth that truth knew him.

Steve's eyes were red when he opened his door, keys shaking less from emotion than the cold. He could see the back of Bucky's head as he slipped those keys onto the small glass bowl by the door and shut and locked it behind him. "I'm home," he said, voice an emotional wreck. He tried to pull himself together as he headed over to Bucky to look down at his art work. The paper, smudged and crude, genuinely frightened him and he lightly put his hand on a shoulder where metal met flesh. "I'm going to take a bath. It's... We don't need to worry about going to Europe. But I think we might want to find a new place to live soon. The neighborhood is small."

Bucky could see how devastated Steve was, he could recognise the grief in his face, but he had no frame of reference for how to comfort that. It was something alien to him, as so much was now, and so he just sat there and looked up at the man with a hand on his shoulder. The charcoal had stilled on the page, but he hadn't set either down.

"Washington." That was definitely a new place to live, and he didn't just suggest it at random. "Dr. Erskine sent a telegram. On the table."

It seemed like Steve's destiny wasn't quite done with him yet, and he had hope for the future if he could let himself find it. The telegram was, as most telegrams were, brief and to the point.

STEVE ROGERS STOP
THIS IS ERSKINE STOP PROJECT REBIRTH STILL CONTINUING STOP REQUESTING PRESENCE IN WASHINGTON DC FOR TESTS AND TRAINING OVER NEXT THREE YEARS STOP CANNOT PROVIDE FINANCIAL REIMBURSEMENT STOP WILL MAKE SURE TESTS TAKE PLACE ON EVENING OR WEEKEND SO JOB IS POSSIBLE STOP SEND WORD BY RETURN TELEGRAM STOP
DR ERSKINE STOP

Holding the telegram in both hands, and having never run from anything in his entire life, Steve had already made up his mind that he would go. He'd missed his chance to save Bucky, but he could still save other people. He could still be a good soldier. Wars didn't really end in a day, after all. There was a lot of cleaning up to do.

"I guess we're going to Washington. I'll reply tomorrow," Steve said softly and put the card with his key in the little bowl beside the door.

He stayed in his bath tub until the water grew too cold and dried and dressed quickly. He was huddled up in his robe when he peaked back in on Bucky. The eyes on that paper, the nightmare from days ago, and the feel of the other man against him were all very strong pros towards asking him to come to bed.

Steve swallowed back how inappropriate that might be. He could always have Bucky set up the other bed if he declined.

"Do you-- are you tired? Do you want to come to bed?"

Bucky finally set down the charcoal when Steve reappeared huddled up and slightly pink from the warm water of the bath. It was good that he had managed to have a warm bath, it would be good for his lungs, and god knows he had pushed himself far enough over the past few days that he deserved to luxuriate even if only for a half hour or so.

"Do you want me to?"

He had still only really managed to verbalise two things that he wanted - stay with Steve, and not kill anyone else - but the smaller things were harder for him. It was difficult, to feel like he might be disobeying someone who looked so much like a handler. It would be easier if Steve were to order to him to bed and sleep.

Everything that had happened coupled with Bucky's outbursts left Steve to believe that choice was not something he was used to. He closed his robe around himself a little more tightly and settled on the edge of the seat, knees apart comfortably. He made sure not to disturb the charcoal.

"Let's go with whatever you want," he offered, kindly, experimentally. It had worked for them both so far and Steve, other than being a very giving human being, wanted to help Bucky reintegrate with society. He wanted to help him with his nightmares and his trust issues and his memory. "If you want to come to bed with me, please do. If not, I'll set up the couch. Or you can sleep on cushions on the floor like you used to."

He wanted to be accommodating without forcing Bucky into his own whim.

Steve could have no idea just how much he had helped already. When he had run from the other Steve, when he had fled his old life, he had been an empty shell that ran on instinct and paranoia, he never would have even thought to trust another. But now he did, now he had someone to protect, and it was already giving him back some humanity.

"I want to... come to bed with you."

He wanted to be as close to Steve as he could, that was the easiest way to protect him and it also soothed him. He had no thoughts of propriety or deviancy on his mind.

"I'm not used to being asked. Sorry."

There was more than warmth in Steve's eyes as he pressed his lips together and nodded. "You'll have to get used to it. We have to work as a team, right? Equal partners. You get as much say as I do." Steve left Bucky alone to clean up his work, but he left him a damp cloth for his hands on the table before heading off to the bedroom. There was no amount of time that Bucky had to take for this. He could come to bed whenever he wanted, but Steve was going to tuck himself hp with a book for a little while.

He did t want to think about Bucky's death. Or his torture. Or what he could have done or should have done. He needed to just promise himself to do better in the future. And this future would still have his best friend in it.

When Bucky did come to his bedroom, Steve was stuck on reading the same few lines over and over again. His mind had stalled out with sorrow and exhaustion and hope,

He did glance up as a familiar figure filled his doorway and he let his head fall back against a very deflated pillow.

"We're gonna be okay, pal. I really think so."

Bucky took another half hour to come to the bedroom. He cleaned the table as thoroughly as he could, making sure not a single smudge of charcoal remained, and then simply sat for a while as he tried to figure out how to get them to Washington D.C. before long. Steve would never let them steal another car, and he couldn't keep using his money forever before someone noticed the date and he was hauled in for fraud.

Maybe he could risk once more to get train tickets, and then he'd have to find a way to get money to support them when they were there. He could rob a bank, maybe a convenience store, he had more than enough skills to do that.

When he finally slipped into the bedroom and began to pull his clothes off, it was with a much more relaxed body posture.

"I'll make sure of it, I'll protect you."

At the slightest movement to signal that he might be undressing, Steve immediately looked away and made as if setting his book aside was a big deal. He scooted down in his bed and tried to refluff his pillow. There wasn't a lot of space here for the two of them, he suddenly realized. This wasn't the hotel. There was no queen sized bed. It was just a slightly larger than single he'd gotten second hand last year. Where was Bucky going to sleep other than right up against him?

It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time and so Steve tried to cling to the edge as Bucky promised him protection and support. The words didn't help.

"You've always had my back. I didn't expect anything less," Steve started.

He hoped it didn't sound as confusing as it did in his head, with his voice going higher than usual there. He cleared his throat for effect.

Bucky still didn't have any shame, it had all been seared out of him in decades as the Soldier when he wasn't seen as human and had to endure the worst sorts of humiliation and degradation. Being naked with someone who cared about him and respected him was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to be afraid of.

He didn't even leave his boxers on, only slipping beneath the covers when he was naked. It was necessary, because of the size of the bed, to press up against Steve from behind and drape an arm around him in order to have somewhere to put it.

"Go to sleep."

A low growl next to his ear, utterly ignorant of what he was doing to poor emotionally compromised Steve.

"What ever happened to options?" Steve asked, managing to get a very poor hold on his voice. This wasn't a good night for him. He'd left his living friend to draw eyes in charcoal so he could sit with a dead version of the same friend and then return to have the initial friend undress to cuddle up to him.

The chances of Steve sleeping for at least the near future? Roughly zero.

He tucked his knees up, which caused Bucky to mold against him again, and the outline of a very inappropriate body part was very noticeable tucked against the back of his thigh. Steve had stiffened, closed his eyes tightly, and tried to refocus his breathing. This was better than an attack. Just barely.

Had he said something wrong?

Bucky frowned to himself in the darkness, wondering if he ought to have given something akin to an order to someone who looked so like a handler. But Steve's tone of voice hadn't sounded angry, more tight, and now his muscles were all tensing up. Was he ill? About to have an attack? Bucky stiffened behind him and shifted his hand to rest on the centre of his chest as if to feel his breathing.

"What's wrong? Why are you tense?"

Oh God. Please, please give him strength. Please don't let this happen to him. He'd been very attracted to Agent Carter. Why was he still be tempted this way? Why hadn't he been given enough burden? Steve wasn't sure if that was an appropriate prayer. You should never pray to ask God for anything. It should be a conversation. Maybe he hadn't been talking to God so much lately but he was sure he had suffered through the worst of this temptation already. Hadn't he?

"I-- no, I'm all right." He slipped his fingers around Bucky's hand, Palm to his knuckles, but didn't pull him off. "You're uh... Well you're not exactly dressed for bed. Or for anything and..."

Steve didn't like to lie. He just didn't know what Bucky would do with this information if he told him. The old Bucky would have understood and probably kept his distance but still remain his friend. This one might kill him for it.

"I'm.. Struggling a little. With temptation. I think it's just stress. Or with you being so close-- I'm so sorry, Buck. I don't mean to be this way. I thought I was over it. I should let you sleep by yourself." He was so embarrassed.

The term bisexual just didn't exist in this place and time, there was no word to describe Steve being allowed to find both Agent Carter and Bucky attractive, and certainly no leniency on it in the eyes of the world. If he were caught, if he thought himself even slightly interested in men, then they could have him sent to jail for a crime or a hospital for his mental illness. It wasn't natural, men liking other men.

Bucky was still and silent for a long time after the confession.

Temptation. He had to work that through on what it meant, but even with the gaps in his knowledge, it didn't take too much to piece together what was intended behind those few hesitant words. That should scare him after some of the things that had been done to create the Soldier, but it didn't, and it certainly didn't disgust him. The Soldier and Bucky had both learned through the changing times about the evolving nature of sexuality.

"I don't know if I feel the same," he replied eventually. "You make me feel safe, I didn't think I would ever have that again."

His arm tightened around Steve, as if to stop him from leaving the bed and going elsewhere. Even if he didn't know what he wanted in return, he knew he didn't want to lose Steve.

"Don't go."

Steve genuinely hoped that Bucky didn't feel this way about him. What would that mean for the two of them? Steve would blame himself for the catchy sickness of it. He would never be able to forgive himself for what he'd done to Bucky. Maybe this would all get worked out in the end and he'd feel silly and laugh about it in the years to come. Oh God. He hoped so.

But having confirmation that Bucky still wanted him close did make Steve relax. Had he expected any different? They didn't abandon each other. Not even for sickness. Bucky had never left him at his lowest. And maybe this was what he needed. Temptation to overcome.

Steve relaxed his grip. And relaxed himself.

"I won't-- Bucky.. Thank you. I mean it. Thanks for understanding. Means the world to me. Maybe in DC I can find someone to help me...? I think they had therapy. After I get a job."

"Help you with what?"

Bucky didn't quite grasp what was going on here, at least not for a long few seconds. But then something shook loose in the vacuous void of his memory, one afternoon in school where rumours had gone around that Tyler Masters had been transferred out because he had been caught after gym doing things with another boy. The scandal, the disgust...

"Oh."

He was not the right person for this kind of comfort.

"It's not something that needs therapy. Being gay, it's natural. Nothing wrong with it."

Steve was instantly uncomfortable again. He'd thought he'd be able to ignore this for now and if the inkling came up again, he'd get some therapy but-- the term. He'd never heard that before. They called people like Tyler 'deviants' or 'homosexuals' because gay was a word meaning happy and nothing else.

Happy. There was nothing wrong with being happy. It was natural. Steve exhaled at thst, forcing the tension out of his chest.

"Maybe. But... Maybe we shouldn't talk about it." God would strike him down as he laid there, finding himself indeed happy in Bucky's arms. His fingers loosened s little on the ofher's hand and his body released more tension with every breath be mirrored off of Bucky. His head was full of cotton and his eyes hurt from sleepiness and the tears both shed and left inside. "And it doesn't matter. You're-- you're my best friend. I'll do anything I can to make sure you stay feeling safe and-- okay. Going to sleep now," he joked softly.

He smuggled into Bucky in his sleep. It was indeed natural.

Bucky didn't respond again, simply staying still and silent until Steve had got off to sleep and he could be left with his own thoughts. He raked through what memories he had ruthlessly, trying to pry loose if this had been a confession he had ever dealt with before. When he fought with the man on the helicarrier, had it been with the added insult that they had once been involved? Had he kissed those lips? Or had he rejected him? Had he known?

He couldn't remember a time when they had been together, but that didn't mean that it hadn't happened, he didn't remember a whole lot of things. It didn't matter, he wasn't going to take advantage of Steve, but how did he feel in return? Hard to tell. He felt an innate connection, he wanted to stay nearby, but was that attraction physical or just emotional?

He'd have to pay attention to himself over the next few days and weeks to analyse how he felt.

But for now, he just let Steve sleep. Only waking him when the sounds of life outside the window began to get loud, when the sun was bright in the window. They had to get out of here, Steve's future waited for him in Washington and there were too many people here who might see his face and recognise him as a dead man.

"Are we leaving?" It wasn't exactly good morning, but Bucky didn't often mince words now. "Before the funeral?"

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