fossilised | For Steve

Bucky turned off the water when he came in the bathroom, there was enough steam in here to fill the room pretty consistently already, and instead crouched in front of Steve to reach out and press the tips of his flesh fingers to the bare skin of Steve's chest where it was showing through the open shirt.

"Deep breath in."

It was a firm instruction. Not angry or too concerned, just efficient. He needed to see how constricted Steve's lungs were and how badly off he was. If he needed a hospital, or if the attack might pass on its own, because he had no idea this was panic and not asthma affecting him.

"I'm here."

If society had allowed it, Steve might burst into tears. Those simple words and the promise that came with them caused Steve to nod before he lifted his hand to Bucky's jaw. He was breathing all right, the other man would notice. Just a few little hitches, emotion and not fluid or mucus. Steve was all right, just afraid that he would not see Bucky again. He wasn't sure if he hoped that Steve would have managed to convince him to go to the future where it was safe or if Bucky had been spooked again and ran. Either was enough to rip holes in his heart new and unusual ways.

"You're here," he partially repeated, and his voice sounded stronger too now. He leaned down and settled his forehead to Bucky's the way that the taller man had done to him the night before.

If Steve was braver, he'd kissing him. Steve found his eyes closing as he thought it again. If he was braver? But he was brave. He was strong and he never backed down. Why should he hide how he felt when Bucky had already accepted him? Stomach fluttering with butterflies, Steve lightly pressed his lips to Bucky's. The contact was soft and brief, hardly capable of overwhelming either of them. "I feel better now."

Bucky didn't shy away from the kiss, though it was over and Steve had pulled back before he could even think about whether to return it or not. He didn't mind, if anything it made the tension in his own muscles drain away just a little bit as if he had grasped hold of a life raft in the middle of a stormy sea.

"I would have come back sooner if I knew you were ill. I went to get food for you on the way."

He was definitely getting better with some small autonomy and with longer sentences now that he had spent some time with Steve. It was a work in progress, baby steps, but it was happening and proof that Steve was good for him in almost every way.

"He asked me to go back with him, he said I could bring you. I won't go if you don't want to come."

Quick kisses were the only things that Steve could manage. He was too new at this and too afraid to mess something up. Bucky was a pro, he had so much experience under his belt even if he didn't remember it. And the kiss from the night before? Well that skill had made Steve swoon. He wasn't comfortable enough yet to try to recreate that.

Setting his hand on Bucky's shoulder, and about to say that he was really famished and could use a good meal, his words fell short on his tongue as he blinked down at the man still crouched at his feet.

"With-- Buck, I'll go where you going Steve said quickly. He had no ties here save for Erskine but he didn't doubt that the man would find another person for his super soldier. Or maybe he needed to become Captain America so that the other Steve did? But no. Bucky was still here--

Steve sputtered just a little before he laughed and confided in Bucky that he was overthinking things.

"So we're still in this together then?"

"'Til the end of the line."

Bucky's words were soft and he let his hand linger on Steve's chest for a little while longer, not really cognisant of just how much his words, his touch, his everything affected the smaller man in front of him. All he knew was that he had assigned himself as this Steve's protector, it was the first mission that he had given himself in so many years, and he didn't plan on letting it go so easily.

"I told you that I won't leave you, no matter what. I'll go to this place, this-- he said it's safe, but not without you, and I'm not staying if they try to trap me."

He knew he was asking a lot. He was asking Steve to abandon his possible future, abandon the serum, abandon everything he knew and take a leap of faith seventy years down the line with an older version of himself and a broken man who used to be his best friend.

Who still was his best friend. "I guess I have to start doing s better job of knowing that when you say you'll come back, you'll really come back," he replied. Every lingering touch was more than worth it. Even if each successive touch was the last he'd ever feel, he would have the ones that preceded it in his mind forever. Bright blue eyes searched the dissipating steam for some sign of emotion in Bucky's eyes. Some relief or maybe some fear he could help quell. He lightly scratched up to his hairline instead when there was just blankness and exhaled more deeply than he had managed in a long while. "I told him it would feel like a prison, but he got-- He was kind of upset that I even thought that. He's trying to help. And there might be something in the future that can help you. If they can go all Jules Vern on us then, wow, Buck. It's going to be a wild ride don't you think?"

He was excited to experience it with Bucky.

Out of the bathroom and sitting down for that meal Bucky brought home, Steve a little damp but the warmth in the room not bothering him too badly, the smaller man frowned lightly as if coming up with a thought he didn't like and set his fork down.

"Are you sure you're okay with me being like this? And not like him, I mean?"

"Why would I need you to be like him?"

Bucky genuinely didn't get it, and the blankness in his eyes melted just slightly to confusion. It had never been about muscles for him, not even when he had been a Howling Commando and they had been talking about following him as a hero. What Bucky had loved about Steve ever since they met was him, who he was at the core of himself. His bravery, his kindness, his compassion. He was perfect whether his body was an ailing asthmatic or a Grecian god.

"I'll always come back to you, I promised."

Whether or not had voiced something as stringent as a promise out loud before was up for debate, but he meant it all the same.

"You'll always come back to me, won't you? You won't let me lose who I am again."

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me forever," Steve replied, his worry melting again. Steve hadn't been so self conscious about himself until he had seen what he could become. Everything he was happened to be everything thst the other Steve was. The only difference was that the other Steve didn't have to sit in a bathroom in the steam and could keep up running. He could fight with and for Bucky. And that was always going to leave this Steve at a disadvantage.

Luckily, he was still pretty secure in his ability to pull Bucky back from the brink of the cliffs he found himself on. That didn't take strength of body. That took will and determination and bravery. And he had that in spades.

"I'm never gonna let you fall down any rabbit holes, Buck. I'm always going to chase you until you're back home and safe with me. And that's a promise," he said, nodding to make sure that Bucky understood the finality of it. "You're a good man. The best I know. And I'm going to help you find him again."

"What if I don't?"

Don't find that man, don't ever come fully out from the darkness. It wasn't meant to be a fatalistic or pessimistic question, just a genuine one. So much had happened over the last few decades that had scarred Bucky and had changed him irrevocably. Even if he regained all of his memories, he would probably never be able to go back to the smiling man he had been before.

Just like many of the veterans of war came back altered in some way.

But he was afraid that if he never made it back then it would be a disappointment, like Steve was only staying with him - both Steves - because they hoped that one day their effort would pay off and they'd be rewarded with their Bucky again.

Steve smiled without judgement or fear or doubt. His hand settled around his glass of water and he took a sip before he answered. "Listen pal, I don't expect anything from you other than being true to yourself. Neither of us are the same person we use to be before the war and before you went away. Neither of us can ever be the same guy again. I'm not expecting you to go back to who you use to be. I just want to help you find some happiness and stability in who you are now. You're still a good guy though. I know you are."

He took a thoughtful bite for a moment and then looked up again. He didn't see Bucky Barnes, the easy going girl magnet. He didn't see what other people always saw. In fact, he never had. He saw a guy who cared about him and went out of his way to help him.

And that was all still there. Every ounce of who Bucky was still survived in who Bucky is now.

"I want you to see what I see when I look at you.... And here I go again with the poetry." He rubbed his neck, embarrassed. "Sorry about that."

Edited 2017-02-14 22:20 (UTC)

That was exactly what he needed to hear right then. Not some optimism about how he would get better, or some empty words about having hope, but an honest reassurance that he wasn't expected to become anything. He was just meant to do his best and keep trying and that would be enough.

That earned Steve another one of his rare smiles, this one actually lighting up his face into a proper grin. It looked strange there, as if he hadn't grinned in decades, but it also made him look younger and less damaged.

"Don't apologise," he said, smile fading already but into a peaceful neutral expression rather than a blank one. "Thank you, Steve."

For everything.

Two days passed too quickly. Steve had pressed his bed up to the wall that he shared with Bucky and stayed close to it, in case he heard Bucky start to have a nightmare. He wanted to be able to go running. But the other man slept peacefully and Steve had too. He insisted that they go on walks and they even went down to the parade to celebrate the end of the war. Bucky did all right in the crowds of people but Steve didn't press it and make him stay too long. Besides, he wore his voice out cheering for the men paraded in front of them on the backs of jeeps and in all sorts of cars.

There wasn't any problems at all until the morning they were meant to go back to the hotel where Steve was staying. The younger Steve had already been up and was making coffee, Bucky in the shower, when a knock came to the door. Steve paused, thinking it was odd that someone would bother them here, but he went to the door and looked out through the peephole to see a man and a woman, both dressed in military uniforms. The had a little satchel with them and Steve was sure that they were coming to collect donations for the veteren's fund.

"One moment!" He called through the door before heading back to the jar where they kept their money, pulling out a generous twenty dollars. Soldiers deserved more than that but Steve didn't want to draw suspicion even as he gave a great deal.

He had just made it to the door when something dawned on him. That woman's hair wasn't right. A woman in the army would have her hair up in a bun and pinned out of her face in curls. The one at the door had hers down and it was a strange, auburn color. Steve paused. And that pause caused the people at the door to get antsy and start shooting through the flimsy wood.

Those two days had felt like a welcome respite. Bucky had gone with Steve to the parades because he could tell it was important to him, and he had hidden how tense the crowds had made him. He was good at that, good at pushing it down when he had warning and when he had to. But it was relaxing in other ways, he managed to sleep mostly soundly thanks to knowing Steve was so nearby, and it was a comfort each time he looked over and saw the smaller man still there.

And then the sound of gunshots filled the air.

Bucky was across the room and tackling Steve in a second, shielding him with his body and not caring if his weight caused any bruises or discomfort for now. Steve would feel a hell of a lot worse than discomfort if he got shot.

"Stay low, get under the coffee table and don't move," he snapped, rolling up enough to push Steve in that direction, eyes already hard, clearly ready for the fight. His hand dipped into the waistband of his pants and pulled out a knife, always hidden there just in case. He rounded the doorway to keep free of the path of any bullets; then, with a sudden and swift movement, he kicked the wood free of the jamb aiming to hit the two with the door itself.

There was something different about these two, something that would take Bucky a few minutes to put together as they broke free of what might have been a devistating blow. These were two Soldiers. He had trained them himself in Siberia for years, working on their combat skills as other departments worked on a new method of dehumanization. They didn't need another Asset. They needed soldiers. And soldiers needed to keep some sense of self.

The woman countered a hit in her direction. The man disarmed Bucky with a combination blow his partner made possible by blocking Bucky's momentum with her hip. Two against one was unfair odds, but luckily, the Steve who was not under the table came crashing through the hallway window, shield first. He had no idea that Bucky lived here. He had been following two HYDRA agents since that morning and they led him here. The shield cut.a path between them and between Bucky, ricocheting from the wall and back to his hand.

"Bucky? You and Steve all right?"

As soon as he saw that these were two of the Soldiers that he had helped train, his entire form shifted. He shuttered Bucky behind his eyes and brought out the Soldier in himself because he would need that in order to win. They were good, but he was better, always had been. He couldn't risk them getting back to their masters, this was one case where kill had to be better than capture.

He moved in a way that the newly arrived Steve had seen before, that fluid and deadly grace with the speed of a striking snake, a whirr of blade and muscle, but that the Steve under the table had never seen. This was the Soldier who had fought with Steve in the roadway and nearly bested him.

The question went unanswered, but the blur of the shield gave him the opportunity to leap forwards into the distraction and slam his blade towards the windpipe of the man while attempting to scissor kick the woman back towards Captain America.

Through the table legs and the sliver of open doorway, Steve saw blood. He saw blood rise in an arc from the left side of the jamb to the right. It was momentarily halted by one of Bucky's arms, countering his thrust with the blade into a tearing motion that knocked both opponents off balance. A gun was fired again and, feeling useless, Steve covered his head with his uncasted hand. The drop ceiling fell in a burst down on him. The table protected him from being further injured.

"Buck, no!" Steve called out, grabbing the woman by the wrist to twist the gun from her hand and wrench her arm towards her shoulder. "We need to question them!" His attempt to unarm her didn't stop her from tossing him over her shoulder and into Bucky. He snapped his shield back at her as she made a run for it, while he was sprawled on the ground in a pile. He jumped to his feet to sweep her leg just as she was standing again and this time she sent him through the wall and into the rubble just in front of where his younger self was trying to dig himself out of.

That left the woman to face off with Bucky agsin and she cracked her neck with a smirk. She said something to him in Russian, calling him a traitor before she charged him again, speaking the first trigger word with a growl.

At least the man was dead, his blood on Bucky's hands making the handle of the blade slippery and more difficult to control. Not so difficult that he couldn't do it, he did have a lot of experience with blood slicked weapons, after all. The blur of the fight, the noise of the crashing masonry and gunshots, it was all so familiar to him and pulled him in like quicksand.

Right up until that first trigger word left her lips.

Bucky snarled, lips pulling back over his teeth and an honest to God growl escaping him loud enough for anyone to hear, as he launched himself at her in a new desperation and panic. His entire being was focused on her now, taut and fuzzed at the edges, as his consciousness began to splinter.

"Stop! Stop!"

This couldn't be happening.

And she did stop. No matter how tough the super soldier serum was, none of them were invulnerable the way that Thor was. None of them were unstoppable like the Hulk. A soldier,, who was not as highly trained as the Asset, who did not have as much to lose as Bucky, was not going to be able to stop another in a frenzy.

Captain America got his bearings just a little too late and made it to Bucky's side a little later than that. He'd never seen someone torn apart like that and he'd studied the Hulk's rages once the battle for New York has ended so he would always, always know what his teammate was capable of.

He didn't immediately touch Bucky. He knew better than that, but he did call his name. "Bucky, it's done, it's over!" He repeated the words in the same order for a long time until he felt something push between him and the busted door jamb. He wasn't sure if he was proud or afraid as he watched the other Steve take Bucky's blood stained hand in his own.

He said his name too. Just more softly. More sweetly. "Come back to me."

The Winter Soldier had always been a weapon. Not just an expert with every weapon ever made, or every vehicle, or every language, but a weapon in his own right. He knew where the nerves were to deaden a limb, or the exact place to hit to crush a windpipe, or how to tear someone limb from limb quite literally with his bare hands. She barely looked human any more by the time he was done, spattered with blood and trembling.

He felt as though he were a hundred miles away, he could hear Steve as if he were underwater and the words meant nothing to him, he could feel the touch on his hand as if it were a lifeline being tossed to him, but he was struggling against the current in his attempt to reach it.

"я потерял..."

His voice was tight and small, his entire body so tense that it seemed as though the wrong movement would shatter him into brittle pieces.

"English, remember? You haven't taught me Russian yet," the soft voice said, trembling now because he had stupidly looked down at the mess at Bucky's feet. He was honestly surprised that his stomach was so strong, and he tried to pull Bucky back into the apartment. There would be cops there soon enough. There had to be some people at home and not out working. There was a lot of gunfire. There had been a lot of shouting. And now they were in a lot of trouble if they didn't leave here soon.

But first, Steve needed to get Bucky back from wherever it was he had lost himself.

The Captain just watched the pair, half dumbstruck and half incredulous that this was happening. He'd been willing to treat Bucky with kid gloves but this version of him had waded right into the muck to pluck Bucky out of it again. It was strangely gratifying. And it hurt just the same. He didn't try to rush the process, though. Instead, he bent to check the bodies and take their weapons. He wanted to clean them out before the police arrived.

And that left Steve to do the hard work.

"I've got you."

The two Soldiers who were now nothing more than meat had been highly trained, and so Steve would find a veritable arsenal on each of their corpses. Guns, both modern and period specific, knives, even explosives. They also carried surveillance equipment, ear-pieces, and trackers. Someone would already know they were dead and would be coming for them, someone worse than the police.

At least Bucky-- the Soldier-- whoever he was, let Steve pull him back into the apartment without fighting him on it. He walked jerkily as if he had forgotten how to control his limbs properly, or like he had retreated so far inside himself that he couldn't figure out how to get back to the surface again.

He could still hear the first trigger word like a razor against his consciousness, dissonant and threatening in a way that made him want to be sick. His breathing was a shallow pant, a panic attack without any other external symptoms.

"Can't..."

He can't do this. He had said he wanted only two things, not to kill and to stay with Steve. He just broke that first one twice over, what if he really was a threat to Steve? What if Captain America had been right and he would just end up hurting the smaller and more fragile version of himself. As if he had suddenly become aware that he was smearing blood onto Steve where their hands met, he jerked away in one sharp and desperate motion to hit the opposite wall like a cornered and feral dog.

That blood on Steve's hand was so bright, he couldn't tear his eyes from it. He did that, he had marked and defiled and hurt Steve.

Steve wasn't an idiot. He knew that Bucky had killed these people because they had come for him. He knew from the way that they all had fought that the two enemies were like Captain America and Bucky...highly trained, infused with Erskine's serum. He was very well aware that they probably had to die to that they could be safe. That didn't mean that any of this was right, but he'd empty his stomach later and pray so very hard for their souls when he had a moment alone. His eyes were solely on Bucky right now.

He didn't let Bucky retreat, following him to that wall with his cast and his bloody hand and warm eyes that were narrowed so finely down into pinpricks. "You can.. You promised to stay with me and you promised to protect me. Well, you've protected me. And now I need you back," he said, lips pressed into a line.

He paid no attention to the fizzle of light in the hallway. He couldn't see the projection anyway, it was behind the wall. Tony Stark, image made almost entirely of blue light (he could have projected himself in full color but he wanted to pay homage to Star Wars) scoffed with his hands in his pockets as he glanced around the hallway. "I love what you've done with the place, Cap, but... Uh... Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Bucky's back pressed flush against the wall when Steve approached him as if the smaller man was somehow a threat, predator and prey reversed, eyes wide and frightened. Look at what he had done, the smell of metallic copper was strong, there was blood everywhere, and Steve... look at Steve.

He opened his mouth to say something else, perhaps an apology or another plea, but for the first time the enormity of all of this struck him. Not behind a careful layer of detached numbness, but the horror of what he had done and what they had made him, it was all writ so clear in the bright red blood on Steve's hand. So all that came out was a strange half choked noise, before he ended up doubled on his hands and knees being sick all over the floor, shaking so hard that his teeth were chattering.

Out in the hallway, the older Steve rubbed a hand across his eyes looking tired and sad down to his bones. "Hey, Tony-- no, it's good timing, really. We need you to get us out of here, three for extraction, and I need a floor of the tower locked down just for Bucky. Not a prison, but private, he's... not doing well."

"Hold onto your panties," Tony muttered, looking as if he was pushing buttons in midair. The projection didn't show what he was doing but it was likely calibration. He shifted screens from one side of his work station to the other, upped a few sliders and talked all the way through it as if he didn't need to concentrate since he was breaking a dimensional barrier. Yeah. He'd figured that part out after sending Cap to where Bucky had gone. The tachyons had been an interesting way to tease Banner out of hiding too. Win-win for Tony Stark. "No one's coming to the Tower. Sorry. I like my privacy. But we already have the Hulk proof building-- wow. You're not even really here and you're giving me looks, Banner? Fine. Whatever. Pout all you like but when the Hulk wants to swim and use the gym equipment you're gonna be thanking me. Rogers, I have it set to beam you straight to where Banner is, he's moving buildings now. But uh-- three?"

He didn't like the sound of three people here. It wasn't impossible but he didn't calculate for the mass of three individuals.

"This isn't a save people from your past mission. I know you're sad about everyone you know and love being dead but that's just life. You're like a hundred years old. People die. Fine-- you know what? Whatever. I'm reading three life signs in your immediate area. Two minute warning and then we're going to do a tug."

Tony's image faded away, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts for a moment.

The other Steve was so much more proactive at the moment, falling to his knees beside Bucky to slip an arm around his chest and lightly stroke his hair with fingers that just about could reach thanks to the cast. "I've got you," he was repeating softly, over and over.

Even after knowing him for a few years, Steve sometimes couldn't get over quite how much Tony talked and how fast, never letting anyone else get a word in edgewise. It was annoying, but it was just part of who the man was, so he didn't get a chance to explain the other person coming along was himself and was the only way he had managed to get Bucky to even agree to come.

He slipped back into the main room, heart constricting painfully when he saw what a state Bucky was in and with a mixture of pride and jealousy that his smaller self seemed to have it contained, like a trainer with a wounded animal.

Bucky retched twice more and then forced himself up to his knees, only so that he could almost fall forwards to rest his forehead on Steve's shoulder. He was still trembling, unable to stop, but at least his quiet words were English.

"Please don't let me hurt you, please-- please..."

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