fossilised | For Steve

For Steve

The war had been raging for a long time now, and James Buchanan Barnes had been drafted some months ago to ship out to Europe and fight with all the others in the trenches and on the front lines. Telegrams came back daily with the news of more brothers, sons, fathers, and husbands killed. More friends who will never return, and still there was no end in sight.

But then something even stranger began happening on both sides of the timeline.

All the newsreels were reporting strange anomalies centred in New York City and Washington D.C. that could only be explained by time itself unravelling in places. Buildings that changed to vast monoliths of glass and steel for a few minutes and then back again, a faded billboard for asthma cigarettes becoming a full colour motion picture of a man eating soup. Some people had even said they had met men and women claiming to be from the future, though this was all hushed up.

It only lasted a few days, and then it was sorted. Sealed, the government official offices said, just a trick by the Nazis to confuse us. Forget it and go about your day.

But there were pieces of the future lost in the past for good.

The Winter Soldier-- Bucky-- whoever he was now, confused fragmented memories all he had to go on, had been thrown through time unceremoniously into a street that looked altogether familiar and confusing. He hid from the authorities who were collecting all the anomalies with ease, even though his manner of dress was out of place now with jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. He didn't change it. He found his feet taking him somewhere only half remembered.

An apartment with a key hidden under an old brick. Why did he know it was there?

He didn't know. He just let himself in, quiet as a whisper, and made his way through to the bedroom where someone was asleep under the covers. Skinny, blond, somehow also familiar (the man on the bridge? The man in the Potomac? The man at the museum? No, that didn't make sense, that man had bulging muscles, but somehow he was sure they were the same). He didn't say anything, just stood there and watched impassively, waiting for the man to wake up.

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Steve didn't fight back. He blocked what he could but he didn't fight Bucky back. It was just like the helicarrier, and Steve took more blows than he should have simply because he refused to raise a fist to his friend. But Steve could withstand a lot, and that he was still standing when his arms were bruised from the punches and his stomach was bleeding internally and blood poured from his nose was a testament to more than the serum. It was strength of character and moral fitness that kept him from collapsing.

Grant struggled with the blankets and his own lungs, in tears as always from the words said that were meant to hurt them and he wrapped his arms around Bucky's waist as he'd done the afternoon they were brought to the future world.

"No! Stop! Buck stop and we'll talk! We don't need to-- Bucky stop!"

The words would be sticking with both men for much longer than the bruises did on Steve's face.

It was going to change them and do what Bucky had dreaded. But it was a step that they all needed first.

This isn't what he wanted.

He had wanted to go back and be who he used to be, to do it over again and get it right this time. He wanted to see Grant and Steve smile at him and know that he had put that smile there, and he wanted to smile right back. It wasn't fair that they were both doing this, it wasn't right. But he couldn't stop it now, not any more than he could have stopped an avalanche with his bare hands.

The combined look of Steve's bloodied face still looking at him with compassion, and the feel of Grant's arms around his waist, were the final blow needed to break through his walls and turn the cracks into fully fledged chasms. He let out a scream that sounded more animal than human, before he just fell to his knees. A sobbing, shaking, utterly broken man.

Break a bone healed bad to set it for the good, Steve repeated to himself in an agony rattled mind. Grant was already there to hold Bucky, even if the idea of holding him now that they knew every touch reminded him of being raped was a weapon. Steve watched it as he slid down the wall, coughing up blood. That arm had been unstoppable. His face bruised up and swelled until he could barely make out the scene ahead of him and then he crawled over to hold Bucky too.

He knew he'd be fine already. He wasn't dealing with the concussive force of water. His consciousness was intact. One of his ribs were broken on his left side but that would heal too.

He wasn't worried at all about himself.

But Buck.... He needed to be there to bookend him, to make him at least as all right as a man could get. He whispered an apology through lips that could barely move as Grant sobbed along with Bucky.

Steve didn't cry. He wanted to but he didn't feel as if he had that right.

It was like everything inside Bucky had finally flooded to the surface and refused to be pushed back down, bubbling over like an endless well of pain. He couldn't see it now, but it was for the best, like lancing poison from the wound so that it could bleed clear and then heal. Maybe in a way that left lasting scars, but also in a way that might not hurt every day like carrying it around this way did.

He cried for hours, though he lost all sense of time, and it was finally dawn when he quieted enough to pull back and away from the two men that were holding him. He didn't even know where he wanted to go, just that he needed to not be there on the floor any longer.

It was to the edge of the bed that he moved, slow and jerky, with his arms wrapped around his own waist as if to protect him.

"Why?"

It was a tired question for them both, no more hate or anger, just hurt confusion. Why couldn't they have let it go before it got to this?

Grant helped Steve to bed because he really couldn't get his feet under him. His older brother was so heavy that he thought he would collapse too, but of course he didn't. He found the strength to get Steve to bed and covered up and as comfortable as porrible before he sat on the bed next to Bucky. He knew Steve would be all right. He just had to let his healing factor kick in. He'd probably just have some bruising by that evening. Nothing more.

Grant tried to hold Bucky's hand as he spoke to him, slowly and with as much warmth as he could muster.

"If we let you carry on with that, or with your perpetual coldness, you'd snap. You need to get it all out. And you need to really try to believe us when we tell you that we want you. Not some shadow of the you that you think you need to be for our happiness." He was reluctantly to try and stroke Bucky's hair. Or lean against him.

He knew he needed to get over that revealation but right now, it was just so wrong and revolting to him that he might be thought of lthst way or trigger those memories-- he didn't allow himself to entertain thoughts that Bucky was only with them because he looked like his handlers all did.

And he had no idea how Steve was taking the news about his friend Howard. Steve was in and out of sleep, thankfully.

He had said he wasn't going to tell Steve about Howard because he didn't want to taint the memory of a friend long gone and he certainly didn't want to colour how Steve saw Tony. His friend was innocent, definitely not HYDRA, it would Steve suspect? Tony did take after a lot of his father's other bad qualities, after all. He hadn't wanted to hurt him either and yet there was blood all over the sheets and Steve was pretty much out cold.

The hesitancy of Grant's touch didn't go unnoticed, and it was both appreciated and reviled. It was so stupid; he couldn't even figure out his own damn mind on the subject. He wanted the touch like a plant in the desert needed rain, but it also repulsed and terrified him. They hadn't had the counselling in his day to know that was normal, that it was okay to be unsure or changeable.

Finally he nodded, fingers curling loosely around Grant's.

"Okay... okay, I don't think I can pretend any more anyway. I'm so... I'm so sorry."

"Tell you what," Grant said, looking up at Bucky with red rimmed eyes, though his breathing had greatly improved now that it was dusk again outside, another full day spent in this place. It had been lucky that Steve paid for several days upfront when Grant was feeling poorly. He had remembered how moving him when he was having an episode was a terrible idea and even after feeling better, he ought to stay in place. "Next time we pass a soda fountain, you get me the biggest chocolate malt you can get and I'll forgive you completely."

He brought Bucky's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. This was a good thing. Bucky was never going to outright believe him but it was the truth just the same.

"You have t been sleeping. And Steve needs the rest. I'll be right here, I promise, but do you think you could sleep a little?"

Grant was already processing what to do in the morning. Liquid diet-- that was psychological and not physical. He'd learned the difference when he was working with Bruce, about how the mind could have such strength against the body that the body played along with it. But if that was the case here, they would have to treat Bucky like a baby and introduce solid foods more slowly.

This all would give him something to do as Bucky rested and Steve healed.

The reason they had put him on a liquid diet to begin with had been physical rather than psychological. The had been the first time he had been thawed from cryostasis and he had nearly died. The food that had been in his stomach splintered into dangerous chunks of ice and ripped his internal organs to shreds. The liquid diet had kept that from happening again, though it had also allowed them even more psychological control over their asset.

Bucky didn't think he could sleep even though he was exhausted and drained. He was too afraid of the dreams that came with it and probably hurting them all over again if he woke in a panic. There was a balanced moment where he almost lied and nodded to alleviate Grant's concern, but in the end he shook his head, finally telling the truth.

"I can't. But I want a bath, I want to be on my own."

He pulled himself up and away after those quiet words and disappeared without another word into the bathroom. He was in there a long time and if Grant came to check on him then he'd see that, despite his words, Bucky had fallen fast asleep in the water with his head resting safely on the side.

Grant drained the water slowly, keeping the heat high in the room but making it safe for Bucky should he slip. He covered him with all of the towels they had and rolled a wash cloth so that it was by his head if he rolled it back to save him from the discomfort of the ceremony.

He cleaned up Steve after that. Slowly. Methodically. He tried not to wake him but of course Steve woke, if only to be lulled back to sleep.

The man that had always been the subject of care became the caregiver and it was good for him to do it for the men in this room even if everything was still so disastrously wrong.

They couldn't stay for long. They didn't have food with them and Grant couldn't drive. Not really. Natasha had shown him how to get around in a car on the compound but he had ditched the vehicle twice in the process.

That didn't stop him from sneaking the keys that evening and heading out into the wild to the general store he had seen a few miles back.

Parking had been miserable but he returned with his arms full just in time to drop everything on the sofa and, wheezing from the two flights of stairs, rush to answer the phone from the other dimension before it woke anyone.

Tony seemed annoyed.

"Uh. Barnes please?"

Grant had to laugh. "Are you always so entitled?"

"I think you know the answer is yes, get him. I need him."

If Bucky or Steve had known that Grant had taken the car out at night when he could barely drive, they both would have had a blue fit. But lucky for everyone's peace of mind both of them stayed fast asleep the entire time that he was gone, though it would hardly take a lot for Steve to notice the new supplies and then figure out where they had come from. Honestly, he was surprised that he slept at all even if his body needed to heal because he was just as horrified by all he had heard and guilty for all he hadn't seen or done as Grant felt.

It was the sound of the phone that woke him up, though he didn't quite get to it before Grant did. That is was Tony was pretty evident from the one sided conversation. He didn't blame Tony for what his father had done, more himself for not seeing through Howard, but he felt awkward. Did Tony know?

Surely not. Steve didn't want to be the one to tell him either, but he wasn't about to let Grant bear the brunt of dealing with Tony, so he gestured for the handset and tried not to sound like a man with a fat lip and a lot of facial bruising.

"He's asleep right now, Tony, can I help?"

"I can't believe I'm being Eiffle Towered by the Rogers boys. Wake him up." Tony was pacing and drunk, drunk enough that his pacing was more like stumbling but he was still articulate. His ability to function when his liver was having trouble was frighteningly commendable.

He'd put the tapes put two days before. As expected, his contracts dried up. Half of the country hated him and the other half were afraid of not hating him for fear of making themselves a target. A fifth of his work force quit in solidarity. Factories had closed down and he wasn't doing as well as projected with his ability to plug leaks.

HYDRA was paying him back in kind and everyone suspected everyone else. It was a mess. The one good thing, however, was that Barnes was playing downwind, and more like a battered wife, something to pity and then forget about, than big news.

"I just. Want to talk. To Barnes." He was caught up in so much. There were campaigns to have him arrested because everyone feared what he could do if he was HYDRA. And no one understood what he was going through the way Barnes could. "Run along and wake him up and give this phone to him."

Pepper was doing her best to help plug the leaks and minimise damage but it was hard when she couldn't prove that any money that Howard had made for the company hadn't been gained through his dealings with HYDRA. She and the team of lawyers had advised Tony to liquidate Stark industries and reestablish it as a new company in just Pepper's name with Tony just a very highly paid R&D technician. It might be the only way to salvage this.

Steve had no idea this was happening, all he heard was the slight slur to Tony's words that told him exactly why his idiot inventor friend was being so insistent.

"I told you, Tony, he's sleeping."

"It's okay," Bucky's voice was listless from the doorway, he had been woken by the sound of voices. He padded over without looking Steve in the eye and took the receiver. "I'm here, Tony."

"I'm done," Tony said, the exhaustion reaching through dimensions. He'd finally sat himself down, finally allowed himself to feel this even if the scotch was being s very good friend to take all the pain away from his limbs. "I can't even sell the company. I can't sell the building in Malibu. Or the mansion. The military has completely pulled out and while Pepper Potts Enterprises is looking really great in the news, shareholders are threatening to pull out if I'm connected. Also, you sound like shit. And Rogers sounds worse. Your little game didn't play well huh?"

He felt better picking st Bucky than he did relaying. All of his woes. He didn't even bother to say that MIT was taking s stand back from him. His school! He'd donated millions of dollars and... Well that was just the surface. If would be worse before it got better. Just like everything.

"Ah man. I don't know what's worse. Being recognized for an autograph while trying to get some coffee or being recognized to have a dirty diaper thrown at you because your dad was a Nazi criminal? Actually yeah I do. Diaper is worse."

"I hurt him. Broke some bones."

That would be why Steve sounded like shit, but he wasn't going to elaborate any more than that. He didn't exactly want to tell Tony that he had broken down like a child and sobbed for hours before falling asleep in the bath. He tugged the towels closer around himself and sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You're not Howard, Tony."

It was hard to muster up the concentration for this conversation, but he cared a hell of a lot about Tony and he owed him more than letting him go through this alone.

"You're Iron Man, you're one of the heroes. You just have to show the world you're taking down HYDRA, go as public as you can talking about how horrified you are at what he did and how much you are not your father's son. Everyone has a family member with skeletons in their closets, nobody can blame you for long. And Steve-- you should have Steve back, Captain America supporting you will go a long way."

He didn't look at Grant or Steve, his fingers fiddling with a loose thread on the towels while he talked as if that was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Are you just sayin that because you broke some bones?" It was true. Captain America was Steve Rogers. As much as he liked to think that the uniform and shield was a mantle to be carried and a torch to pass, and as fine of a job as Sam did at being Captain America by proxy now, he was not Steve.

Tony needed the big dumb blond back.

"You know he heals really fast right?" Tony wasn't disregarding anything that Bucky said, though. "Isn't it going good for you guys? Oh. Guess not if you're talking about dad like that in front of them. Did they already know or did you tell them?"

Steve's face was impassive and a younger, smaller, more earnest version had climbed back into bed beside him, the before and after watching Bucky with somber eyes. Steve didn't want to leave but he was pretty sure now that Tony knew all about his dad. He probably knew more than the tidbits that Bucky had yelled that afternoon.

Picking between friends who both needed him... This was terrible.

"I yelled it at him last night while I was hitting him, along with... some other stuff." Bucky's voice was neutral, but not the carefully controlled neutral of before, just the drained neutral of someone who had already cried more than should be humanly possible and just was too tired to feel anything at the moment. "Sorry, it wasn't for me to tell them and I did."

He was a dumb bastard sometimes.

Bucky scrubbed a hand through his hair, blue eyes darting first left and then right to briefly look at Steve and Grant to see what they were thinking of all of this.

"Are the authorities still looking for me? It might be best we all come back."

He didn't want to separate them again.

"Yeah they are. They think I'm harboring you. They think Captain America took you out of the country and the latest theory on the Internet was that Grant Rogers was also killed since no one has been back to the apartment. Mostly internet junk. If you want to come back, I won't stop you, but I think you should get a better hand on yourself. Because this isn't going to be pretty and-- Barnes, Bucky, thanks. For talking. It helps. I tried with Banner but he doesn't understand."

That was the biggest sack of shit because Banner was just as hunted as Barnes. The big difference was that Tony couldn't look at the Avengers now. Or talk to them. He was sure Rhodey saw him as HYDRA and if Bruce did too-- he didn't know what he would do.

"Maybe. Give it another week. If you can. Because they're all going to want answers and you're going to have to be willing to talk."

Bucky's fingers involuntarily twitched at the theory that he had killed Grant, his expression crumbling for a moment before he got hold of himself again. He scrubbed a shaking hand over his face again and again as if that would somehow anchor him in this place and time.

"I don't think I'm ever going to be willing to talk to strangers about this, Tony."

At least he was being honest now.

"So I might as well come back now. I don't want to-- I need Steve and Grant, and I'm not leaving you to face this alone. When I make friends, it's for good." Until the end of the line.

"Think you should befriend Sam then. Or maybe a real counselor. Banner is a terrible psychiatrist. I don't know how he ever got his license. If I wasn't under investigation then I might make inquiries myself." Truthfully, Tony was happy to have Bucky back. "But there's always room at the compound for you. Probably should go there myself and let Pep liquidate the tower."

It was strange to have everything and nothing. It felt like everything was slipping through his fingers, but he had enough clinging to his skin to make him realize just what he was about to be losing. He wasn't marketable. The endless gadgets he had the funds to produce before were drying up. Just like that.

He'd never been poor. Not in his life. This was such a strange sensation.

"Let me-- tomorrow. Noon. We'll bring you home."

Tony was never going to be poor. Even if he had to liquidate his company, he would still get billions of dollars out of it and the patents that he had on his amazing technology would be lucrative for years to come. If he listened to Banner at all instead of shutting him out because he was afraid the man might think he was HYDRA, then he would have told Tony that this would pass one day.

"Yeah. Okay, noon, we'll be here."

He hesitated, before he just held out the phone sort of helplessly to Steve who took it back and retreated a short way to talk quietly, voice strained in ways that went far beyond his split lip.

"...is it safe, Tony? Is it safe to bring him back? He broke last night, he's in a worse way than we could've imagined, I don't want to put him through more than I have to. And I'm sorry if that sounds selfish with what you're going through, I am."

"You have no idea what I'm going through, Rogers," Tony spat. This was why people didn't like him. He was so disruptively argumentative that it made it difficult to get close. And of course thst was exactly what he wanted. "No one is breaking into the Compound. It's on a hundred acres in the foothills without a fly over clearance and anti drone capabilities so trust me. He's safe here."

Tony hung up the phone on Steve, abrasive and hurting and went to the shower to try to sober up. That left Grant feeling just a little out of place here. Everyone was hurting, physically and emotionally, and he was still feeling wild from driving the car and had ice cream melting on the sofa.

That would be liquid enough for Bucky. Once it melted on his tongue.

He stood up and get the spare blanket, the one not covered in blood, and spread it on the carpet. "Let's have a picnic. Buck. Get dressed. Steve, put the phone down. It's our last night as just as three. And I want a picnic."

A picnic seemed utterly ludicrous in the aftermath of everything that had happened, but Bucky still got to his feet and went to dig out clothes that weren't splattered in Steve's blood to get into. Even though he had enough of his own, he ended up slipping on loose sweats and a shirt that both belonged to Steve, the set of his shoulders daring either one of them to say anything.

At least Steve was mostly healed now, nothing really left but bruises that would be gone by morning and a tenderness around his broken rib that might last a day or two.

He got himself sat on the makeshift picnic rug in the end, somewhere halfway between Steve and Grant, and reached out to take the ice cream, popping the top and swallowing down a spoonful before something occurred to him.

"Where did the ice cream come from?"

"The magic ice cream fairy," Grant said; making Steve laugh out loud. It still hurt with thst split lip and the bruised ribs but it felt good to laugh.

"Is that fairy called Grant by any chance?" he asked, picking up a loaf of bread to make a sandwich with. The smoked meat and cheese would go bad just as quickly as the ice cream.

"Might be. I didn't ask him," Grant said, and then glanced at his watch for several moments while Bucky glowered. Eleven-fifty-nine. Well. One minute off wouldn't kill anyone. He pulled a little wrapped gift from his pocket and handed it over to Steve. "Happy birthday."

It wasn't anything major. Just a few sweets. He had a few for himself too. That was how they had always celebrated his birthday with their moms. She would wake them at midnight and give them a little candy, all of which would be gone by morning save for one piece that they would always bring to Bucky.

Steve and Grant held out two fish shaped sugary sour candies to their friend. It was tradition after all.

Their birthday, was it really already the fourth of July? He hadn't noticed the time going, and he felt guilt sink into his stomach like a lead weight when he looked at those candies being held out to him.

"I didn't get you anything. Either of you."

Stupid. Even when he had been pretending to be okay, he hadn't even for one moment thought of the upcoming date and done anything about it. How could he be so wrapped up in himself as to have forgotten the easiest birthday to remember in the world? He remembered reading at the Smithsonian that nobody was sure if Steve Rogers really had been born on July 4th, or if that had been changed by propaganda to fit the image.

"You did," Grant said, not hesitating to put a hand in Bucky's knee. "You're here with us."

"It's the best birthday present," Steve agreed. He'd been without Bucky on this day for too long. He'd spent too many birthdays alone because he didn't want to bring any big attention to it. Steve didn't touch Bucky but he did smile at him, no lack of love in his eyes. "I don't want to spend any more without you," he whispered, the feel of emotion stinging the air.

Bucky had had a blow up just that afternoon. He'd screamed and he cried and he'd knelt on the floor a few feet away for hours. But he was here now. That was truly the most amazing thing about it.

"Birthdays never were about the presents anyway," Grant insisted, shifting to his knees to kiss Bucky on the cheek. And since Grant was brave enough to do it, Steve followed suit and placed a kiss on the opposite cheek before he set a hand to Bucky's shoulder. "You still love us right?"

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