fossilised | For Steve

"Buck, don't worry about me. You're going to be right there. At my side." Steve wiped his hand on his napkin and sat back down again, settling his elbow on the table. "Always. Until the end of the line, right?"

Steve followed Bucky back to their barrack and settled back down onto the center bunk, rolling onto the bottom before he realized that his pillow was covered in toothpaste.

He sat up quickly and touched the back of his head, frowning as he glanced at his fingertips. "What the--"

The room erupted in laughter as the lights flickered off.

Great. Just great.

There was no way that Bucky would let Steve be tested on, no matter how innocent or good the cause, not ever. If anyone tried to go near him with a needle, they would find out just how dangerous he could be first hand. Never-- Never would he let someone so important to him be destroyed from the inside out like he had been.

The laughter continued a short time after lights out, right up until one of the laughing voices ended in an erk sort of sound, as if someone had mysteriously found themselves punched in the throat by a silent assassin.

Though Bucky would be in his bed when the lights came on to show Cooper massaging his throat and glaring at Steve. "Did you just come at me, Rogers? What the fuck is wrong with you? It was a bit of harmless fun."

Turning in bed to face the man talking, Steve held out both of his hands, palms covered in messy cream. He could only guess what had happened (though he was sure that his guess would be right), so he kept his eyes away from Bucky. He didn't want to give his friend away and honestly, he didn't really approve. A little bit of toothpaste wasn't going to kill anyone, but it was going to make showers in the morning difficult. If they were even permitted showers in the morning.

At least he's smell pretty good. Minty fresh.

Jennsey snorted at Cooper and rolled his eyes. "Rogers can barely keep up during drills, there's no way in hell he came at you."

Steve didn't think that was exactly the same thing as having his back, so he just rolled his eyes and got out of bed before Mitchell made a sharp whistle with his fingers between his lips. "Rogers, don't you dare. Lights out is lights out, you leave and it could be all of our asses."

"So I'm suppose to just lay in toothpaste all night...?"

"Yes," half a dozen men replied almost at once, causing Steve to sigh and climb back into bed. Well, what was a little hazing between classmates? Even if he'd had to deal with pretty much the same thing his whole life? It was just like always, business as usual. But at least he was finally following his destiny. Only after Steve was in bed again, pillow flipped over and hands wiped off on his towel, did he glance over at Bucky. A silent goodnight, and more than a little affection, was in his eyes.

Bucky hadn't slept the night before, too on edge surrounded by a dozen or so men who he didn't know or trust at all, but that night he did. The soft look that Steve gave him was almost permission to let himself relax, and he knew logically that there was no way that he could stay awake the entire time they were with the military. He might be able to go six days without sleep at last recorded count, though he became incredibly ineffectual by the end of day five, but they would be here longer than that.

Unfortunately for the other members of their barracks, Bucky dreamed.

It didn't happen every night, maybe four nights out of seven, but it was always worse when he felt even slightly unsafe in his surroundings. A part of him registered the others in here as a possible threat, and that dug into his subconscious and caused the dreams to start. Flashes and fragmented memories that refused to leave him be until he was screaming, a full-throated and raw scream that echoed off the walls of the room.

Nearly all of the men were awake at once, spooked as hell by that eerie screaming, and Jennsey stumbled out of bed to hit the lights so that everyone could see the other new recruit thrashing under his blankets.

"The-- the hell?"

Although Steve would have liked to say that nothing on this earth would have ever kept him from Bucky, the truth was that a dozen larger men could do just that simply by standing around, moving from their bunks faster than Steve could untangle himself from the blankets. Those closer were already in a loose circle around Bucky and yelling to each other to do something to wake the guy up.

Cooper as the first to move forward, Mitchrll to his left going in to hold Bucky's feet. Steve's little voice was impossible to hear over the noise, and no one would heed any warnings to leave Bucky alone because they had no idea what Steve did about waking up the traumatized ex-soldier.

"Hey. Barnes. Get up. You're having some sort of girly nightmare," Cooper joked, moving in to shake Bucky awake.

They were all about to get a taste of what the Soldier could do.

He felt the hands on him as ones coming to drag him to the reconditioning chamber, unyielding and dangerous, and so he reacted accordingly. His metal arm lashed out and struck Cooper on the side of the head, literally flinging him across the room with enough force to make him crash into the opposite wall. His legs came up, scissoring around Mitchell's throat to break the hold there, flipping so that in one smooth motion he slammed that man into the floor and got himself to his feet.

He was awake, but still not really in the room, sweat pouring down his face and eyes utterly blank as if he saw something other than what was there.

Edited 2017-02-05 10:35 (UTC)

The men fanned out, not to run for help but to see where this ws going, to make sure the Cooper and Mitchell were breathing, but ultimately still trying to stay in on the action. They were all here training to be selected for Project Rebirth. For all they knew, taking out the competition could be a part of that. They wanted to prove themselves as much as Barnes was, but no one was ready to just rush in there and attack.

There was a hush to the room, minus Mitchell's groans from the dislocated shoulder he was suffering from, until skinny Steve Rogers with bare arms from a white sleeveless tshirt that hung from his form and with toothpaste dried in his hair finally made his way up to Bucky. In bare feet, Steve stood his ground. His hands did not roll into fists. He was not a threat here.

"Buck." Steve didn't have the most commanding voice, but it was steady and unafraid. "Bucky. You know me."

Buck, he said. Buck. That name that nobody else had ever called him, even when they used Bucky, and something that the Soviets never would have used. He was the Soldier to them, the Asset, never a man with a name. He stood still, rigid and trembling from head to foot, as if ready to spring at a moment's notice.

He wore a long-sleeved shirt and still a glove, hiding his fake arm from the rest of the men, so he looked a bizarre sight in the harsh electric glow of the long light swaying above them. Bizarre, yes, but not ridiculous. He looked dangerous, something in the set of his jaw and the stance of his body betraying that he was predator in this situation and not prey.

"Rogers, what's going on?" That was Jennsey, taking a half step forwards. "He some kind of dame to be having hysterics? Jesus, Barnes, look at what you did."

Bucky's attention shifted over to Jennsey all of a sudden, focused and razor sharp, target acquired.

No one in that room was a coward, bravery and loyalty were all traits that the Army wanted in their super soldiers and so each of these men were exemplary in that regard, but it was Steve that stood in the face of a man who happened to sometimes forget he wasn't in hell anymore. The others just watched and threw out words.

And if that didn't stop, they were going to get killed.

Steve held a hand out towards Jennsey as if placating him like one might do sternly to a barking dog and he told Williams to pull Mitchell back and away from the group. The rest of the men he asked to take two steps back. Only half listened but that any did at all spoke to the respect that they were giving Steve right now in his command of the situation.

"It's time to wake up," Steve told Bucky gently. "I need you to be with me, pal." Blond hair. Blue eyes. A calming tone. Handler or friend, Steve was calling the shots right now.

Attention shifted once more back to Steve.

Perfect Steve, who had no idea that a handler for a person could even exist. Innocent of anything HYDRA had done other than capture him, completely ignorant of how his looks had been used over the years to ensure a loyal Soldier. He commanded Bucky's attention completely. His eyes were so dark that they almost weren't blue any more, boring holes straight through the man who stood almost half his size and less than half his weight.

"Каковы мои заказы?"

Williams looked up sharply from where he was taking care of Mitchell, him and Cooper would need the medical barracks.

"Is he a Ruskie? Jesus, spies!"

It clicked into place a moment after mentally questioning how it was that Bucky knew Russian and the answer followed: he had been brainwashed by the Soviets. He was trained to do terrible things by them, of course. Why wouldn't they teach him Russian?

Steve's face hardened and he shook his head at Bucky. "Don't speak Russian, Buck." Thst name. That humanizing name. "You've got to talk to me in English."

Steve could drown everyone out. He use to at Bucky's matches in the ring. There would be nothing but focus in Steve's eyes. He didn't care what the others were doing or saying. He didn't care that a few had slipped out to get the General.

For a long few seconds there was just silence following that request, but the world narrowed down to just the two of them, attention fixed on one another with no care for the other men around and the ones that had run out. Bucky was still stood tall and trembling from head to foot, searching for something in Steve's eyes that clearly he found.

All of a sudden he pitched forwards as if a puppet who's strings had been cut, and ended up with his face buried in Steve's shoulder crying. Sobbing for all the world as if he were helpless to do anything else, not knowing or caring that men shouldn't cry.

"Помоги мне... S--teve... God, help me, не позволяйте им взять меня..."

"I'm right here," Steve confirmed, not sure what to do once Bucky was in his arms until he felt the tears on his shoulder. It was easier after that becsuse Bucky had cared for him when he was sick or having an episode with a frightening regularity and Steve just focused on wellness instead of answers.

The blond guided Bucky back to his bunk, which took a lot of work considering that Bucky was huge and unmoveable. He climbed up with him, sitting on his heels to give him height, and hugged him tightly. The men left in the room whispered and when Agent Carter and Erskine arrived, the General on their heels, they were forced to leave and wait outside.

They watched as Steve scratched lightly in Bucky's shorn hair and kept trying to make and maintain eye contact. They were too far away to hear the words said, but that hardly mattered. All Steve was doing was talking about home. "What about when John dared you to hang off of the edge of the boards at Coney Island and you fell into the sand? They all ran. We thought you died, but you were just taking?"

He didn't remember that day. He didn't remember how Steve had been the only one to run down to him on the sands, practically tripping over himself in his desperate hurry, or how Steve had shoved sand down the back of his neck once he realised his dumb friend had been faking it all. But he did remember cleaning sand off himself at home later, and finding grit in his bed for the next week no matter how many baths he took.

Slowly, gradually, he calmed down. Panicked and rapid breathing eased into calmer and more regular breaths, and his trembling decreased along with his sobs. He didn't move, however, not until he noticed there were other people still in the room, and then he finally sat up and away from Steve, though he could still feel the scraping of phantom fingernails over his scalp.

Red eyed and pale, he nevertheless regained his neutral voice and blank expression.

"Bad dream."

What a woefully inadequate explanation, and that was proven when the General took the lead on this, careful but firm.

"A bad dream that put two of my men in the medical bay, Private."

Steve turned to glance at the man speaking to him. The brass on his chest, in his collar, it made Steve immediately stand up. That he had put himself between Bucky and the approaching general was not an accident, though Steve was trying to show the decorated man a little bit of respect. He'd seen war. Fought hard. People like that had already proven themselves and served their country.

"Sir. He wasn't himself. He would have never hurt anyone if he hadn't been to--"

"Private Rogers, you are dismissed." The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he asked for clarification. "You are dismissed from active duty. You should have never been allowed in this camp. You are under performing, you can't keep up. Your health is a factor, son. If the man next to you can't rely on you to help him in the trenches, you're a detriment. You'll get more people killed then you'll ever help."

Steve's face reddened and then hardened. "You need men to pick up where other men have fallen. You need men to shoot and to follow orders. You need men to lay on the line so others can crawl over it. I'm that man, sir," he spit back.

"No, son. No. You're a joke. We cant risk Project Rebirth on you."

Erskine had been watching Rogers very closely throughout all of this. He had stood up for his friend without a moment hesitation, he was wanting to be a part of the war effort no matter if his role was only to lay on the line, he was exactly the sort of man that Project Rebirth needed. A weak man, who knew the value of strength and would never abuse it.

"On the contrary, he is my candidate."

"What?" The general whirled around to face Erskine. "You can't be serious, doctor. I've got a lot of good men out there, ones who have excelled at the training and always follow orders, this-- this joke will never be a soldier."

"I've made my decision, General, he will be the candidate for Project Rebirth. I will contact Mr. Stark at the end of the week and make the arrangements." He could have no idea that the end of the week would bring about a far different conclusion.

The General exhaled a disgusted noise. "Rogers, I swear to our Almighty God, if you fail to keep up this week then you'll be out, no matter what the doctor says. And Barnes, follow me, you're going into solitary. You hurt two men and can't be trusted in these barracks, and your goddamn Russian needs talking about."

Being nominated for Project Rebirth by the creator of it after only a day left Strve feeling relieved, right up until the General opened his mouth again. Steve blinked, but he didn't move. They could easily move him if they wanted to get to Bucky, but that wasn't the point. Steve needed to protect the only person in his life that mattered... So he could go and make sure that he never became this broken shell of a man who barely remembered their lives together.

Each time Bucky looked at him blankly or failed to smile or seemed like his mind was in pieces, it was like being forced to do those push ups. It was a trial but something worthwhile. And Steve would never abandon Bucky.

"He's not a Soviet operative," Steve said. "He's... My partner. He's already been trained, and is more of a soldier in this army then I might ever be, but he's here to help me through it. We have information on the movement of HYDRA in Europe." There he was, trying to spin the tale so it sounded good without giving away how little he knew. "If you want to keep him in isolation, I'll stay with him. We'll stay together and train together. And if you're in desperate need of translation-- then maybe we can help with that. But we are both good Americans trying to serve this country."

"You're a grown ass man, son, you don't need anyone to hold your hand and 'help you through it'. What do you think this is, the army or the Women's Knitting Circle?"

The General couldn't help exploding. There was a limit to how much insubordination he could take, and how much leeway he was willing to give. He had already given a lot, both of these men had a lot of slack cut, but that wasn't going to fly any more. Barnes had injured two men, one who had a dislocated shoulder and the other who had a severe concussion.

"Barnes, solitary confinement. Rogers, show me one good reason why at the end of the week I don't just send you home. Now, Barnes."

Bucky looked down at Steve with a hollow sort of hopelessness, but he did step away from his friend without any antagonistic behaviour. He needed to make sure Steve didn't wreck all his chances over this.

Steve felt as if he had failed, watching Bucky, defeated, slink away. He was left alone in the barrack for some time before the others returned and he washed himself up and changed out his pillow for Bucky's and tried not to feel as if he had made a huge mistake coming here. Bucky had only asked for two things since coming home from a war decades in the future. He didn't want to hurt anyone else and he wanted to stay with Steve.

Steve should have been happy with that. The Allies didn't need him here. They could do just fine. Thst serum would make someone else Captain America. Steve didn't sleep that night, listening to the unease of the men to his left and right, to the one above him, and morning came too quickly. They all ate together, leaving Steve at the end of the table, silent but trying not to notice that he had been put on the outside. That was just how he lived his life anyway. He needed to try harder now. For Bucky. The rest didn't matter.

After breakfast came running. And the obstacle course. And the wall. There was lunch and then more running. And shooting practice. And sit ups. So many sit ups.

He was dead tired by the end of the night and morning came much too fast.

Maybe Steve wasn't the fastest over the wall, or the best at sit ups, or the most accurate shot. But he had the most grit and perseverance of any of the men there, and it didn't go unnoticed. Perhaps he had been put on the outside, but none of the men training for Project Rebirth were bad guys, most of them just followed the pack, and they respected him for trying. Enough that on the second day they sat with him at breakfast, and on the third day they even offered one or two words of encouragement.

It was easier for them without Barnes there. He was unnerving, strong in a way nobody should be strong, and too much of a reminder of what war could do to people even if they didn't want to quite admit that was what it was.

Four days went by, and then on the fifth morning Agent Carter stood in front of them as they were all eating their breakfasts.

"Men," she said, voice loud and clear. "The war is over. Thanks to intelligence gathered a few days ago, a covert strike was led into the heart of the Nazi occupation and broke their forces late last night. A surrender was announced this morning, April 4th, 1943."

History changed. Not that any of them would know it.

"As a consequence, the government are no longer funding Project Rebirth, and you are all free to remain enlisted during peacetime or take your leave. Private Rogers, a word?"

The war was over. Steve had no idea that it was over early or that circumstances were different from the last time. All he thought about was the Bucky overseas, the one that he was supposed to save. The one he hadn't heard from in almost two weeks and whose status was unclear. He thought, too, of the Bucky in solitary. He thought about what he would need to do to keep him safe as the other man cheered for the war to have ended and still grumbled that they didn't get their chance to see it.

Steve stood almost mechanically. He walked toward Agent Carter and only looked up at her face when it became impossible for him to have a conversation otherwise.

"Where's Bucky? I think it's probably time that we go home," he started with. They would have to wait to see about the other Bucky as men started filing back home.

She drew him off into a private room and gestured to one of the two chairs, taking a seat in the other and crossing her legs with the whisper smooth sound of her nylons rubbing together. Nylons were a luxury, but being an Agent did have some perks.

"I'm sorry to tell you that we've had a telegram from a Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, they say to tell you that James has died in action."

Suspicious, another Barnes, but she kept it to herself under a veneer of professionalism.

"And that Dr. Erskine still wishes to pursue Project Rebirth with you, but without government funding the estimated time of completion is another three to five years."

Having run his legs off and been laid out with his muscles refusing to budge him, this news was the first to signal an asthma attack since he and Bucky had arrived here. He pressed his hands to his knees and leaned forward, not bothering to even try to suck in a breath until his lungs acted against his wishes. He wheezed first and gasped a moment later, bent over fully now.

There were no tears for the death of his best friend becsuse he'd heard this before. 'They thought I was dead but they were wrong.'

"No," he wheezed. "He's not. He's being held in-- I need to get Bucky-- Where--"

His hands flew to his chest as he stood up a little too quickly, feeling dizzy and closed on. It didn't help that his airways had all but closed up. Peggy was quick on the call and Erskine himself administered the inhalant as Steve laid on the floor with his head in Peggy's lap. It was undignified. It was untrue, what they said.

Bucky couldn't be dead. He couldn't.

It was sad, but it was not the first time that Peggy had seen friends and family fall apart at the news. The death of a loved one was always hard and, with war raging, people had known that the shadow of mortality hung ever more present above them. But they needed to continue on, the war had been won, it was a time for celebration.

"I'm sorry, but Sergeant Barnes' body was recovered from a HYDRA base in Italy, he is definitely dead. I'll have someone fetch Private Barnes from solitary confinement for you."

They had changed history.

This Bucky never made it out of his first capture. Captain America had not come for him, the Howling Commandos, or what would have been them, were all slaughtered when the Nazis realised that defeat was coming.

Steve couldn't cry, even after his treatment. He was moved from the floor, from Peggy's lap, to the medical building and was just laying there when Bucky was escorted to him. Just laying there, just thinking. He hadn't given up. He intended to be back in Brooklyn when the body was returned to the family, he intended to see it for himself.

History had been changed the day that Bucky went off to war with the anamolies that eventually brought this Bucky back to him, irrevocably changed from the sweet man that had saluted him upon their parting, girl on Bucky's arm and smile on his face. He'd always remember him like that. His best friend with his whole life in front of him, promise of a family and lots of kids for Steve to babysit on date nights with the wife--

He closed his eyes when Bucky came in.

"They tell me he's dead. But we still have three weeks... We should have had three weeks. What did I do wrong? How do we fix it?"

Death wasn't even a reason for Steve to give up.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject