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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[He's going to be looking over his shoulder whether he stays or goes, safety isn't a concept that makes any sense to him any more, but there has to be a reason that he's come here. It was Steve, everything seemed to come back to Steve since he broke with HYDRA. He keeps seeing those eyes, hearing that voice, and it digs right under his skin.

He sinks back down onto the bed, the knife finally disappearing back under his clothing out of sight.]

I want to understand why I know you.

[Because he sure as hell doesn't understand now.]

I missed. When I shot you, I missed.

[And that never happened.]

[Steve had wondered. He's been reading up on the files Natasha found for him, as well as what they've been able to find and decode from the massive data dump, and everything he's read has pointed to Bucky's ruthless accuracy as the Winter Soldier. His missions were characterized by a deadly efficiency, but every time he came face to face with Steve, things got... messy.

That Bucky knows he missed, that he knows Steve... that's encouraging, but Steve knows he can't celebrate yet.]

I can help you. Ask me anything, I'll answer as best I can. You don't have to go.

[Of all the things they wiped from him, that he knows he never missed isn't one of them. He's always been an excellent shot, he has a vague sensation that even in his life before the Soldier he had been a sniper, but somehow he never managed to get a good shot on Steve. It's not like the man isn't big or bright enough.]

You keep saying that.

[He doesn't have to go, but surely that means he has the choice to go. He's tired, though, and he's lost a lot of blood even if he's trained not to show as much.]

Are you going to tell them that I'm here?

[Them being the other Avengers.]

[Oh. Damn, yeah, that's an issue. Steve sighs.]

If you stay here, then yeah, I'm going to have to at some point.

[He frowns, considering their options.]

I could... go with you.

[His expression falls just slightly, like he'd imagined that maybe he could be safe here and kept a secret.]

They'd come looking for you.

[He squares his shoulders.]

I'll go.

[Oh and the way Bucky's face changes just about makes Steve's heart break.]

I don't want you to go, Bucky.

[He frowns, looking at the blood again.]

At least let me help you clean up your wound before you go. No one has to know about that.

[He doesn't trust the others. He's not even sure if he trusts Steve yet, but he definitely can't stay here if the others are going to know about it.

He hesitates, but in the end he nods his head and tentatively sits on the edge of the bed.]

I haven't had chance to do maintenance yet.

[But he'll let Steve do it, even if he's not a proper technician. Bucky has a couple of bullet holes, one in his right shoulder and the other in his right side through his ribs.]

Maintenance?

[Steve mulls that over as he goes to his bathroom and pulls out a first aid kit to bring back to the bed. From the way Bucky's been talking, it sounds like he's still deeply affected by Hydra conditioning, and they treated him like a weapon, so... right. Maintenance.]

What... uh, what do you usually do for maintenance?

I don't take care of maintenance, I am usually maintained by technicians if required.

[His eyes never leave Steve, and his expression is unsure even if his voice is level in an almost trained response.]

...I just need the bullets taking out.

[He freezes for a moment, then forces himself to keep breathing when he notices he's stopped.]

And... how long ago was it you got shot?

[Steve does his best to keep his voice as neutral as possible, but it wavers with the concern.]

Maybe you should come on into the bathroom.

[He shrugs minutely, but he does take a step towards the bathroom door and will carry on all the way if Steve follows.]

Two days.

[He hasn't had time to do much about it, he's been too busy sneaking past the best security in the world to get into the compound.]

You're upset.

[He leads Bucky to sit on the closed toilet, then kneels down in front of him with the first aid kit.]

Yeah, Bucky, I am. Because you shouldn't have to live with injuries like that.

[Steve sighs and looks up at Bucky.]

Will you show me, please?

[It's odd, this is a position that gives him more power, which is actually fairly soothing if he thinks about it. Not that he does, this whole situation is far too confusing to delve into properly.

He tugs his shirt up and over his head, taking the hoodie with it, revealing two nasty bullet wounds. The bastardised serum has stopped him bleeding out or getting an infection, but the one by his ribs is still seeping blood pretty steadily and the one near his shoulder has closed up around a lump that's definitely the bullet.]

...you really have to tell them that I'm here?

[He doesn't want to go, he finds now, but he can't stay if others know. Especially not the Avengers.]

[Even as much as he tries to prepare himself for Bucky's injuries, Steve can't help the breath he sucks in when he sees them. He decides to start with the one by Bucky's ribs, because that'll be easier to take care of quickly. Steve starts pulling out sterilized equipment from his kit, which is less like a home kit and more like an army field kit, because he's goddamn Captain America and his first aid needs are not like most families'. m

He's quiet as he starts working, and he tries to figure out what to say to Bucky.]

I don't want to, Bucky. But this is their home too. I don't have to tell them that you stopped by, but if you wanted to stay, I'd have to tell them eventually. They'd figure it out on their own soon enough anyway.

[He'll sit perfectly still while Steve works on him, as if he can't even feel the pain of having his injuries prodded at and sorted out. He's been trained to endure much worse, and Steve is trying to be as gentle about it as he can, so there's no point in making a fuss.

He just nods, that slight hint of disappointment crossing his face again.]

Then you need to stop looking for me.

[He'll leave after this, and then that has to be it. No more contact. He won't let himself be found.]

[Steve pauses in his work, his jaw set tight as he hears that. It hurts, that ultimatum, and he's not sure Bucky knows just how impossible it is for him to just leave it like that. Finally he starts up at his task again and speaks softly, keeping his voice controlled and level.]

Why are those the only options? Either you stay and I keep you a complete secret or you leave and I never get to see you again?

[It's actually making him mad, as he thinks about it, but he keeps that tightly controlled. But seriously, why the hell are those the only options? Why is he being wedged into such a corner? He wants Bucky to be able to make his own choices, but doesn't he get some kind of say in this?]

[He's quiet for a long time, though not because he doesn't want to answer. He just can't find the right words to express why it's so important, because he still doesn't understand why he trusts Steve.]

They're connected to SHIELD, and they might want to contain me again. You'd fight them on that, lose them. I don't want that.

[Even if he doesn't know why it bothers him that Steve might lose his friends.]

And I won't be trapped again. If you come with them, then it can't work. Better to let it go.

[He's patient--quiet while Bucky searches for words. Steve does his work efficiently and well--pulling the bullets out and closing up the wounds with neat stitches learned during wartime, then bandaging up the spot.

Steve's heart is pounding. He has Bucky, for these few sweet moments, but he's so close to losing him again.]

I don't want to lose you again.

[His voice shakes, just the tiniest bit.]

But if... [His voice breaks, and he has to pull his hands back because of how they're shaking.] If what you need... is to go... [He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then steels himself. This is not about him. This is about Bucky.] If you need time on your own, then I won't stop you. You need to be able to make your own choices, and figure out who you are, and I won't... I won't interfere with that.

[It hurts somewhere, deep down, to see Steve in pain. It's almost like being back on the helicarrier, when the wounds had been physical, but it had been Steve's words and his emotion that had reached him. This was no different, and he finds himself unable to bear the cloying sadness in the room.

He surges to his feet all of a sudden and bolts for the door, out of the bathroom and out of Steve's room as fast as he can manage. He's relying on Steve's word, and on the element of surprise, to get him out of there before he can be caught. He needs to be gone, he needs to not think about Steve Rogers again.

Assuming Steve lets him go, it will be several weeks before anything more is heard of Bucky, he disappears off the map again. But then Steve might start noticing that things are slightly off in his room whenever he goes back there - clothes out that weren't out before, a box of old photographs disturbed, an empty packet of cookies discarded by the night stand. Not every time, but at least every few days and getting more frequent, like someone is coming in and searching for something that they never quite find.]

[Bucky bolts, and Steve lets him go.

There's a part of him that very nearly gets up and chases after him right away, but he doesn't. He made a promise. So as much as it hurts, Steve moves slowly, and cleans up after himself and Bucky. With hands that don't even shake, he makes it as if Bucky was never there.

He doesn't tell his team about what happened.

And he stops looking.

Because he made a promise.

Granted, a part of him had been hoping Bucky would choose to stay, or help him come up with a compromise, but he made a promise. And Steve's going to honor that.

For the next couple of weeks, he manages to go through the motions of being Captain America. What keeps him together is the knowledge that Bucky is okay, Bucky is alive, and maybe, just maybe, Bucky will come back some day. When he's ready.

Weeks go by, and Steve pulls it together. He has to. For himself, and for his teammates. But then stuff starts getting moved.

Steve's smart, and highly observant. He doesn't memorize the positions of everything in his room when he leaves, but he can tell when things aren't where he left them. So when things start ending up in new places, Steve lets himself hope.

And he starts to leave things out, just in case. Things that seem normal enough to be out, just in case anyone else is looking. Cookies, protein bars, other snacks. Old photo albums. His journal.

Steve had kept his journal very private, because in it he'd been writing memories of life before going into the ice. His life was the matter of public record, for the most part, especially after receiving the serum. But he didn't want the only record of his life to be what historians interpreted of it, so he'd started writing memories. What growing up in Brooklyn was like. The smell of his mother's baking, when she had the time, energy and money for ingredients. What Bucky's family was like, and what Bucky was like. The sights and sounds of the streets of New York, what it was like to go to a Dodger's game. What it was like to nearly die of a hundred different maladies that could easily and cheaply be treated today.

What the war was like.

And everything after the ice, too. Because hell, why not. He writes about what he's thinking and feeling. He never writes directly to Bucky, but when he knows Bucky's visiting, he leaves his journal out and writes with Bucky in mind--stories he thinks Bucky will like, both past and present.

And hell, even if Bucky isn't reading, it helps. It helps him to organize his thoughts and understand them, and even if yeah, he's crap at acknowledging his feelings, it helps sort those out too.

If Bucky is reading... well he just hopes it helps.]

[Most of the food never gets touched when it's left out so obviously, but the photographs and the journal are always in obviously different places. And then, one day, the journal is gone.

For nearly two weeks after that, there's no disturbances at all.

Then, just as suddenly as it disappeared, the journal reappears. Some of the pages are crinkled as if they've been turned too many times even in such a short period as two weeks, and one page that he'd written about Bucky's family on is gone altogether, torn out. But, for the first time, something is added to the room. A postcard with Coney Island on the front of it, and handwriting on the back that hasn't changed since the 1940s, neat cursive of the sort that all kids used to have to learn and practise until it was perfect.]

Steve.
I have a last mission now. It's nearly over.
Bu
Jame
Barnes.

[He should've known better than to be so blatant about the food, in retrospect. But Steve takes heart from how his journal and the pictures move around.

He's not expecting it when the journal completely disappears, though. Still, he takes it as a good sign and makes sure he keeps breathing and tries not to worry.

He almost succeeds.

When the journal reappears he goes over every wrinkle in every page, every sign that Bucky had been through it, and what he paid the closest attention to.

The postcard he reads and rereads and tries to suss out the meaning of. What's the last mission? What happens when it's over? Why Coney Island?

Steve has no idea. He promised he'd stop looking, but as he stares at the postcard, he gets the urge to see Coney Island again. He'd gone, once, after waking up from the ice, when he was still trying to figure out how much the world had changed, but he hadn't spent long. He just couldn't do it.

Well. Maybe it's time for another visit. Just to see. And if the postcard is a deeper message from Bucky, then... then he'll see.

So he goes to Coney Island on a bright summer's day in a ball cap and sunglasses. He knows it's a crappy disguise, but it's astonishing how few people recognize Steve Rogers when all they know of him is Captain America.

He buys a hot dog from Nathan's and wanders for a bit, listening to the happy screams and laughter until he finds a spot on a bench that manages to have a good view of both the water and the crowds. He pulls out his journal and sketches scenes in front of him and scenes from memory.

He promised not to go looking for Bucky. So if Bucky's here, and wants to find him, then Bucky can find him. He's even got a bag of candied nuts if he does show up.

If not, then Steve will just go home, no worse for wear. Either way, he'll have some sketches, and that's not a bad way to spend a day.]

[Some things don't change so much.

Even though there are newer rides and newer attractions, all blaring noise and colour, there are still the older stands and the older rides there too. The sound of people having fun, the smell of carnival food, it's been the same since before Steve was born and will probably be that way long after he's gone.

Maybe that's why Bucky finds it comforting. It's a piece of his past, and when he comes here then he sometimes gets flashes of memory, images of a better time. The postcard hadn't been an intentional message, but it still gives clues away. Steve is probably aware of someone watching him for at least fifteen minutes before a man in another baseball cap slides onto the other end of the bench.

He looks a bit better than last time, he's moving with an ease that suggests his wounds have healed, and he's wearing fresh jeans and a new hoodie with the big Avengers A on the front of it, one of the many pieces of Avengers merchandise out there now. He still has the look of a hunted animal, posture too tense, but he gives off a credible outward appearance of just being a relaxed guy on a bench with a stranger.]

[Ever observant, Steve feels the prick of watchful eyes for a little while, but he keeps his attention on his sketching. He's not here to look for Bucky. If it's Bucky, Bucky can come to him.

And then, remarkably, he does.

Steve's heart is pounding, but he keeps a relaxed posture. He looks over at Bucky, takes him in with a quick glance, and can't help a small smile. He looks much better than last time. Still not great, but definitely better.]

Nice sweatshirt.

I won it.

[His voice is gravelly, like he hasn't used it in the weeks since he last saw Steve and got the bullets taken out of him. He nods down the decking and it's not hard to see the game he's talking about, because it's utterly bedecked in Avengers merchandise, from Captain America shield keyrings, to Iron Man boxer shorts, to cuddly Hulks, they have everything and most of it is tacky. The game is a shooting one, a rifle to knock down bottles.]

Why are you here?

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