fossilised | For Steve

Steve only sort of knew that story. A plane went down and Captain America was frozen. He hadn't really asked for details. The thought of living in the future was equal parts terrifying and exciting, but it was neither here nor there. Steve had been hoping that this might just be accidental. Or a social call.

But no. As expected, Steve got right to the very heart of the matter. Bucky.

"Your Bucky is here," Steve stated, looking down at his hand clutched around the blanket. He needed to suck this up because it was the right thing to do. He'd be fine, here. Alone. He'd expected he would be for awhile anyway before this Bucky came into his life. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach but he worked through it. "I'm not sure where exactly but... He'll be back soon. Are you going to help him get home?"

"I don't know."

Steve looked very tired all of a sudden, the weight of his failures when it came to Bucky resting hard on his shoulders. He had the same look on his face that he always had, one this Steve might recognise well, that blend of love and concern.

"He ran from me a few months back, I've been searching for him everywhere. I never would have thought he had anything to do with the anomalies, but I saw his picture in a newspaper clipping about the war ending."

On the wrong date, no less.

"You and he were just coming out of the training camp with everyone else, so... tell me, why hasn't he run from you?"

Steve wasn't sure what to say. He knew the look on the larger man's face. He knew the turmoil. "I don't know. He broke into the apartment while I was asleep. He didn't really know me then. He doesn't remember most of how he had been, but he had these clippings... Of you, actually. He was trying to get me to be you, so that the world didn't get too screwed up. But it did anyway. That wasn't his fault. None of this has been his fault."

Maybe that sounded overprotective and a little insane since Bucky had put him in the hospital to begin with.

"He said you saved his life. I think he... Wanted a little time. To remember. That's all he's been trying to do." And now Bucky's Steve was here. So much less breakable. "He needs you. So I'm... I'm glad you found him. I don't suppose we ended up learning Russian...?"

It hurt deeply, like a wound being reopened, to know that Bucky had been trying to get back to him in whatever way he could. It hurt more because Bucky thought that he needed to remember, or needed to be something else, to be with Steve. Idiot. He could be with Steve even if he remembered nothing, even if he was a vegetable that could only eat through a straw and not even speak, and Steve would still care for him.

"No, 'fraid not."

Russian. He'll make an effort when he gets back, he needs to be able to speak the language if it was Bucky's main form of communication now.

"I need you to tell me everything, start to finish. I'm not trying to take Bucky from you, but-- I failed him, I can't do that again."

If anyone will understand, it's himself.

Yeah, Steve was trying to take Bucky from him. And he understood why. He was better equipped to handle him and to help him. He was better able to keep him from hurting other people. Steve couldn't come close to doing that. Bucky hurt those two fellows during training and he'd broken his arm... It wasn't Bucky's fault but Steve knew he couldn't handle it all. Not if there was someone that cared for Bucky just as much as he did.

There was no question about that. Steve knew it. They were the same person and had the same horrible love for their best friend.

So Strve told him everything he could. First about the hotel and the surprise attack when he accidentally woke Bucky up. He mentioned his nightmares and what happened at the barracks. He told his older self about the car trip and what had happened to break his arm. He didn't shy away from saying that Bucky had squeezed him too tightly, but he didn't mention his confession. He didn't mention how he felt. And he didn't tell Steve that the Bucky that belonged here now was dead and would be buried two days from now up in Brooklyn either.

It was sentiment. They needed to be practical here.

It wasn't about taking Bucky away, even if that's all Steve wanted to do, it was about what was best for Bucky. Somehow, for reasons that he didn't understand, his friend was finding it more soothing to be with him in the past. Is that because he hadn't made the mistakes yet? Because he saw Steve as a threat? As someone who might hurt him? Even just the idea of that made him want to be sick.

"Thank you," he said eventually, voice quiet. "For looking out for him. He's been through a lot, I don't know even a fraction of it, but-- the first time I saw him on that bridge, he asked me who the hell Bucky was. He didn't even know his own name."

It made him want to track down the people responsible and wipe them from the map.

He stood up. "I don't want to risk scaring him off, especially not when we don't have the resources to track him down here, so I want-- please would you talk to him? Maybe tell him that I'm here, and that I want to take him home."

Afraid to speak, Steve nodded at first. He knew that this was for Bucky's own good. He couldn't help him the way that this Steve could. But even thinking that left a sorrow building inside of him that threatened to burst. He needed Steve to leave first so he could have his cry and prepare to tell Bucky why he couldn't stay with him after all.

As far as Steves went, he'd be getting the better one. And it would be fine. He'd just sell the truck and get himself home on the train. His apartment was still there, nice and rent controlled. He'd go back to looking for a job at a school. Maybe he'd teach art? He had a good amount of things ahead of him.

Things that didn't have to include Captain America. Obviously he still existed in the future. So thst was fine. The future hadn't been changed too badly, right? No one was disappearing?

"You got it," he said finally, and the moment Steve shut the door, the tears came. He didn't sob. It was nothing so messy as that because he did understand. He knew exactly what was happening here and why and he embraced it fully for Bucky's benefit.

But he still felt the loss about to come. He was only human.

Steve felt bad in a way, he knew that he was taking a Bucky away from himself, but he thought that this Steve would still have the chance to find his own Bucky. Even if it was a long way into the future. Everything would work out, and this was his Bucky, his responsibility. So he didn't hesitate in striding away to go back to the little hotel room that he had rented himself with old dollars provided by Tony before he left.

It took another three hours for Bucky to reappear, time for Steve to get his crying done.

He slipped into the room on silent feet, blank faced as always, and sat down on the edge of the bed to check Steve over with intense eyes as if to make sure that he hadn't been harmed while he had been away.

The redness in his eyes had faded. Another dose of medication had been offered and accepted. Steve wanted to be able to think clearly and the fuzz of the pain killers was better than the fuzz of the pain. He did a lot of thinking too. He let it all go, gently in the darkness of the room, no real idea what the time was and certainly not caring. Time was fleeting and whatever he could spend with Bucky, he would do that, and then let him go.

Bucky’s approach had him smiling as the door opened, as those eyes came better into view. “Hey, pal. I’m fine. I’m really fine. The doctor said that I can go home in a few days too. It should heal cleanly. Oh, and I’ve got some news for you. Some really good news.”

He didn’t try to touch Bucky this time. His hand stayed on top of the blanket, even as he smiled. The sadness was there, persistently there, he couldn’t hide it and he couldn’t sugar coat it and he couldn’t do a damned thing but accept it and move on.

“Your Steve is here. The uh…me that I was supposed to be. I don’t know how exactly, but he’s here the same as you are. Plain as day. And really…really big. He could probably bench press me,” Steve joked, even if his heart wasn’t really into it. “He said you ran away from him the last time he saw you and he’s been looking for you since. Typical. It’s what I would have done.”

He looked fine, good. His colour was good, his pupils looked fine, and he obviously hadn't been out of bed. Bucky felt himself relax just slightly, he had been scared that he would come back to an empty bed and no Steve. Or that somehow he would have taken a turn for the worse while he had been gone and would be dead when he came back.

The relief lasted all of three seconds.

Just the mention of the other Steve, here in this time, had him on his feet again and ramrod straight as if he expected to be cornered any second. His eyes darted to the window, the door, tracking the escape routes in his head as rapidly as he could. How could this happen? How could he have been followed even here?

He backed up a step, swallowing hard.

"Where?" Terror, not delight, at the idea of a reunion. "Where is he?"

This was shocking to Steve, and the idiot actually attempted to get out of bed before the sling caught on the far railing and jerked his shoulder painfully. "Woah!" He had no idea what could have set Bucky off like this and it scared him. "He's not-- I thought you said he saved you? Why are you running from him? Buck--"

He had to get out of this bed. He had to get to Bucky's side before he panicked and hurt himself. Steve refused to listen to his own inner reason that it was best to just stay put. He planted bare feet on the cold floor and held onto the bed as he made his way to the few paces that Bucky had halted his forward progress at.

"I don't know where he is, pal. He wanted me to talk to you..." And he could see why now. It made him think again to those handlers. "Did he hurt you? Bucky be truthful with me. We can go right now."

He could feel himself trembling from head to toe and it made no sense. Why did he not want to see the older Steve, but he wanted so badly to remain with and protect the younger Steve? Was it because the Steve from his time had seen him at his worst? Had seen him as a weapon, and he was ashamed? Or was it that seeing him linked him back to the future, back to pain, back to where he was hunted?

He didn't know, all he knew was that he was terrified.

"No," he said, swallowing hard. "He never hurt me, he saved me, he's-- a hero. I can't see him, I have to get out of here, I have to go."

He pulled back again from where Steve was and his muscles tensed as if preparatory to actually running away. Not just from one Steve now, but from two.

"I thought we were sticking together," Steve blurted out with more emotion than he had planned for this whole conversation to encapsulate. He had already broken himself with the knowledge that doing the right thing meant missing out on something he wanted, and that he was giving Bucky the gift of freedom and himself the gift of his friend back.

But now he wasn't so sure. He wasn't so sure at all. The thought of actually losing Bucky was like being told that he was about to die. He didn't care if it was cliche or thst his older self had suffered watching Bucky fall. He didn't care at the semantics or at what was right--

No. That wasn't true. What was right was helping Bucky. And if helping Bucky meant keeping him? So be it.

"He said he can't track you. But... He can probably track me. This hospital put me on the map in a big way. He might try tracking down Erskine next. If we're going to run, and it's gotta be we, pal, we have to go now."

"You were going to give me to him."

The words came out as a low mumble and he stepped back and away from Steve, out of his arm's reach so that he couldn't be touched or constrained. He didn't know why that hurt so much, but it felt oddly like being traded away. Like his humanity was being sapped again, a commodity to be passed between Steves without his consent.

But then the rest of what Steve said kicked in, seeped into his shocked brain, and he lifted his eyes to meet steady blue ones in surprise.

"You said-- I thought you were giving me to him?"

Stupid. Repetition. Couldn't help it.

It was a good thing that Steve hadn't been reaching for him. He would have stumbled and fallen. He paused instead at the foot of the bed and wet his lips, trying just to breathe and compose himself. "You're a human being, Buck. I can't give you to anyone. I was just telling you that he came here trying to help you." This whole thing was exhausting, but if Bucky was laying in bed brain damaged, Steve would be right there with him just the same. It didn't matter how tiring it could be. Being with Bucky made every inch gained worthwhile.

He ended up sitting on the edge of the bed, arm carefully bracing the other before he did something to hurt it further. The swimminess in his eyes didn't fade at all and the sickness he had felt every single time he thought he was losing Bucky just stayed half mast in his throat.

"I thought you would want to go home with him is all. I'll be fine if you do. But it's your decision. Everything since you got here is your decision. If you want to leave... If you want to leave me here, you can do that too. But that hurts, Buck. And I'm going to miss you. I just want you to be happy. Even if it isn't with me. I just can't be a burden for you, pal. I don't have what he has to offer."

"I said I wanted to stay with you." He finally took a step back towards Steve, his eyes so dark that they almost seemed black instead of blue, intense and focused. "I meant you, not him. One Steve isn't interchangeable with another, just like I'm not the Bucky you've lost."

He couldn't explain why he wanted this Steve, why he felt safe at his side rather than with the Steve he knew. It wasn't fair on the other Steve, and he likely would have come to love being by his side again, but he had latched on here now.

"He wants to take me back, they're hunting me there. I want to stay here, I'm safe with you."

Isn't he?

That tracked back path towards him was a comfort that Steve couldn't deny. He didn't reach out for Bucky, but he did lightly touch the mattress beside him. He could sit if he wanted to. Or he could stand if that was better. Steve wasn't going to judge or make demands. "You might be safer with him," he confided, mostly because he couldn't tell a lie to Bucky of all people. "He could protect you better than I can. And I'm not telling you that so you'll go. I... I don't want you to go. I don't want that to effect your decision either way, though."

He wasn't sure how much influence he happened to have on Bucky, and he didn't want to do anything he might regret.

"Can you.. Why is he hunting you? Why would anyone?" Bucky had not fully explained what had happened to Him. And maybe they needed to have that conversation. But not here. "Put a pin in that. We need to go. He might be watching."

Bucky stepped right up into Steve's personal space and just lifted him up into his arms as if he were a dame being swept off his feet. He felt light, barely any additional weight at all. He would be able to feel Bucky's heart beating with his head so close to his chest, a flighty and fast thud of fear.

"I'm gonna run, hold on as much as you can."

It was all the warning he gave before he literally smashed through the second storey window of Steve's room and began running across the rooftops. He pushed himself to the top speed his serum enhanced body was capable of, vaulting and twisting to parkour along the rooftops and then down into an alleyway, only stopping when he had reached the apartment that he had rented while he had been out of the hospital.

About thirty miles run in half an hour.

Wow. "You don't need to show off for me," Steve said after Bucky had literally walked him across the threshold of what was supposed to be their home now. He was breathless and wind blown, though he'd had some sense to cuddle under Bucky's coat to protect himself from glass and bugs and any number of things that could and did hit him.

Bucky's heartbeat had never risen above a slightly increased clip, as if he had been running up a flight of stairs perhaps, but nothing more. How fast could Bucky actually run if he really opened up? Steve was almost afraid to ask.

He stood in bare feet on thick carpet, unusually luxurious for an apartment, and lightly patted down his hair to be more presentable. He was still in a hospital gown, a soft cotton with loose ties across the back to keep the garment in place, and he made sure to keep his back to a wall as he made a tentative first exploration of what was obviously their place.

Steve's bag and boxes were here, just waiting to be unpacked.

It made the blond brighten, even if they had not had the best day or so.

"Is this Washington?" Yes he knew they needed to talk, but come on! This whole thing was so exciting!

It was probably unnecessary. It was unlikely that the other Steve would have approached him or even followed, but he couldn't take the chance that they would be watched. Much better to make a clean getaway for now, but the safety of this time had shattered. No longer was he alone here from his time, but the future-- present-- whatever it was had started to invade. How long before SHIELD and HYDRA tracked him down too? How long before he was on the run here just as much as before?

He let Steve wander around the apartment, but he stayed by the front door to bolt it and then wedge it from their side to make it much harder to break into. The apartment itself wasn't big, though it did have two bedrooms, but it was well insulated with a real electric fire in the main room and thick windows to keep the chill out.

"Yeah."

Bucky wasn't about to volunteer information or conversation, retreating back into himself as he had been when they had first joined forces.

Steve didn't read into the presence of two bedrooms. It made sense and in a way, made him feel better. He wasn't afraid of Bucky hurting him again, but he was afraid for his own propensity. He became suddenly very well aware of some of the things he had said to Bucky recently and he sighed as he returned back to the stoic man guarding the door.

The embarrassment left him in favor of being afraid of Bucky's sudden slide backward.

"Can we talk? It's all right if you don't want to but I need to understand what's going on here." And maybe get dressed but with his arm the way it was, he was a little afraid to try.

The medication wouldn't last forever and the ache in his bones was already back.

Bucky didn't have any medication that might take the edge off the pain for Steve, but he could go and fetch something if it became necessary. Hopefully, now that the arm was in a long cast and the bones set, it might not be quite so unbearable as long as Steve took it easy and didn't jar it too much.

"--you can ask questions."

It was the best he could do. It wasn't that he didn't want to volunteer information for Steve, perhaps he would be the only one that Bucky would feel comfortable with, but he couldn't do it without prompts. He just wasn't sure where to begin, what was relevant and what wasn't.

He slipped down and sat against the door on the floor, ready if Steve wanted to question him.

The... Floor. Okay. Steve couldn't really get down on the floor right now since he didn't thing he could get up, so be just dragged one of the chairs over. He was glad that this place came at least partially furnished, though they were going to need some bedding and pillows and some dishes and pans too.

But that would be for later.

Little Steve sat with his knees together, he wasn't wearing much after all, on the chair. He leaned forward with his good arm, propping himself up against his knee. None of these questions would be easy so he went with the most need to know.

"Tell me why he's hunting you. You escaped... Whatever they made you, right? Tell me how you did that." Bucky's bullet points were factual at least. He listened at the blunt remarks of how they had fought on an airship over the river. How Steve fell and Bucky saved him before running.

Steve's cheeks were pink with delight.

It was a good story. A really good story.

"So now... How did you end up here? Where did you go, after you saved him?"

Strangely enough, Bucky's minimalist way of speaking seemed to tell the story better than full descriptors, just enough to let Steve see himself in the action and emotion of the whole thing before it was over with. He remembered that acutely, at least, he hadn't been wiped since then and he had no trouble making new memories.

"I went underground for a few weeks, hid, in case HYDRA were looking for me. Watched the news, saw what happened with SHIELD. Found the Smithsonian, it was a little segment at the end of the news, mentioning a theft of a costume from the Captain America exhibit. I went, saw-- there's a whole stand on Bucky Barnes. I was just leaving when I found myself here."

He scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Don't know how, just went black all of a sudden then I was here. And nobody knew where I was."

And wasn't that the crux of why he feared the other Steve? He was a connection to that life, that world, that sought him out so cruelly.

"I think, and since I'm talking about myself here, that if you told him that, he'd let you alone. He said he failed you... And I know how that feels." Bucky was dead because he had failed him. Then again, Bucky would never be tortured to the extent this man had been tortured for the same reason. It was almost too complicated and Steve's heart wasn't in really sitting down to think about what he did or could have done differently. Not yet.

He didn't let Bucky dwell on it either.

Instead, he switched topics to something a little more gruesome. "It.. What do you remember about your time with the Soviets? You have such terrible nightmares, Buck. Stuff that makes you react really violently... The guys at the barrack, you thought that they were attacking you... Last night? I think you thought I was one of your handlers. I need to know what to do if that happens again.You keep speaking in Russian and I don't understand it. I need to learn."

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