fossilised | For Steve

For Steve

[It's been fourteen months, six weeks, and four days since the Soldier pulled Steve from the Potomac and ran from everything he had ever known. Since he had begun to realise which parts of the world he'd been fed were lies, but hadn't quite managed to pin down which were truths. He knows that Steve has been looking for him. Not just him, but his friends too, most of the Avengers have been roped into Steve's unceasing search.

They never find anything.

He's too good, he knows how to hide. He's seen them - Iron Man once, Falcon four times, Steve twice - but they've never seen him. He's a ghost, just rumours that dry up on the wind. He's not too sure if he wants to remain this way for the rest of his life, he knows he's not ready for anything else, and this feels almost comforting. Anonymous. But something in him has pulled him back to America. He hears on the news what's been happening with the Avengers, he sees that there's a new 'compound' that they're using as a base, though none of the news channels know where it is.

It doesn't matter, he finds it.

There's security systems, of course, but he bypasses them all. He slips close enough past Falcon that he can smell the aftershave he used, but he isn't noticed. He finds Steve's room, easy to tell it's his because of the shield inside the door and the way that the whole place is military precision. Not a habit easy to break even once the army is done with you. He isn't even sure why he's here, just that he's following the instincts of his mind at the moment.

He takes a seat on Steve's bed, cross legged, and he waits.]

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Yeah.

[In a way. The idea of agency, of free will, has become incredibly important to him for obvious reasons and he can believe in the idea of a God that lets people do terrible and amazing things.]

But if someone is trapped and they're prayin' hard for help, and that God is supposed to love them and want to help them-- how do they not get free?

[God, that question hurts. It hurts a lot.]

I don't know. Sometimes I think about that and it makes me angry, it really does. Sometimes I think maybe it's because God's got a better view of... all of time, really, so He knows that even if something is awful in the moment it's for a good reason later on. And that makes sense, but I really hate it.

[Because even if something good comes out of it later, it still means that Bucky went through what he had to go through.]

No.

[The refusal is immediate and furious, hands clenching at his sides.]

I don't care what kind of view you have over things, that's never justified. There's no reason good enough for the Soldier or what the Soldier did, trying to make reasons is what HYDRA did.

I know.

[He says it softly, slumped into the couch, and he puts his head in his hands. He wants so badly to believe, but it always comes back to this.]

That's the part I always get stuck on. I just... I can't make it make sense. Or feel right. No matter how much I tell myself it comes back to free will, it still... I hate it.

I wish I could still believe.

[He remembers how comforting it had been, even in the midst of warfare, to think that God was watching out for him and that even if he died then he'd be going to a better place. He doesn't have that any more.]

But I don't. There ain't any kind of God could watch what I did for that long and do nothing.

[Steve sighs and rubs his face, then looks back up at Bucky, a tight, sad smile on his face.]

I don't blame you. I really don't.

But if there ain't a God, then what's it all for, Steve?

[Is it just pain and confusion and death?]

I don't know. I get stuck there, too. There's plenty of people who get by, certain that there's no God of any kind and never has been.

[Steve shrugs a little.]

I probably should find a priest or somebody I can talk to about this stuff. I'm not getting very far just thinking through it all on my own.

I'm scared that this is all there is, Steve. Maybe it's selfish, but I don't want to know that my whole life is going to be a struggle with nothing at the end of it.

[Maybe he doesn't deserve anything else, a punishment for what he's done, but he's already so tired of fighting.]

Yeah, me too.

[He rubs his face. This is a hard conversation to have, but it's all thoughts that he's been struggling with for a while. It's about time he said it out loud.]

Honestly I think that's what keeps me trying to figure it out. I can't just give up and say there's nothing because I have to believe it's all meant for something bigger.

But I think I want to know the truth. If there is nothing, then I want to know, I need to know that I'm fighting for something.

[It's not fair to lay this on Steve's shoulders, as if he owes Bucky the answers and can somehow provide them.]

I think that's the whole idea behind faith as a concept, Bucky. We can't know the truth, not when it comes to God. I've heard that Judaism these days is just all about asking questions and debating the answers while still knowing that there can't ever be a certain answer.

[He sighs and throws his hands up.]

Which is fine, but I don't want to spend all my time asking questions and not getting any concrete answers.

Then I guess you and me both are stuck.

[Because they both want answers and there aren't any to have.]

...do you think life can be worthwhile without anything to fight for afterwards?

I don't know. It was worthwhile enough before I joined the army, though I guess I was just fighting a different battle, in a different way.

[He considered that quietly for a moment.]

There's always things worth fighting for. And maybe that's just what life is, picking something to fight for, even if it's just your own personal happiness.

[He should have known that Steve would be able to find hope even in the hopeless. The familiarity of it makes his lips twitch up a bit, warmed by the knowledge that Steve’s heart is a constant even in a world of change.]

Yeah? What do you fight for, Steve? What makes it worth it to you?

[He smiles sheepishly, ducking his head.]

You know, for a long time it was all those things Captain America is supposed to stand for... truth and justice and freedom. But those are just... such big concepts and I can't be just one guy fighting for it, because... what if I'm wrong? And I've been wrong, and it's been... a disaster, and I don't think I can do that anymore.

So maybe I'm learning how to fight for me now. And... well, you're gonna hate me, but... you.

I don't want you to fight for me.

[Bucky took an instinctive step away from Steve, almost as if he were considering bolting again.]

You hear me, Steve? Not me. Fight for yourself.

[God, he was afraid Bucky would react like that. He nodded, biting his lip, then he sighed.]

I hear you, Bucky. I hear you.

[But he wasn't sure he could promise one way or the other. He knew he'd always be ready to fight for Bucky. He wasn't sure if he could stop himself. But if Bucky asked... it was hard to say no.]

I want you to promise me, not just hear me.

[He knows Steve too well for this, the punk will just wriggle around it if he doesn't get the words out of him in a solid promise.]

[Dammit. Steve works his jaw, which he's clenched a little too tightly, and he takes a deep breath.]

Alright. I promise I won't fight for you.

[Even though it kills him to say it, he makes eye contact with Bucky to show he means it. Steve doesn't back down from his promises.]

[He swallows hard and falls back in beside Steve, though he still looks disturbed.]

Thank you, I know-- I know that has to be hard for you, I'm sorry.

[It is hard, and Steve hates it, but he swallows all that back and just nods, albeit stiffly.]

We'll figure it out.

[They have to.]

[He falls silent until they get to Steve's little place, and only when the door is shut does he break that silence again.]

I know you're mad, you should yell at me or demand your answers like you used to. The Steve I have some memories of would never have bit his tongue.

[Steve sighed.]

Yeah. Thing is, these days, when a man gets angry, people get scared. I know my strength, I know the effect I have on people. I don't want to be a person people are scared of, I want to be a person they can trust.

And with all the things you've been through, I don't know what... what might affect you badly. And I don't want to be just another person who hurts you.

You can't hurt me, Steve.

[Maybe that wasn't entirely true, but for the purposes of this discussion then it might as well be.]

I want you to be you, really you.

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