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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[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?

[Steve looks up, over to where Bucky's indicating, and he snorts when he sees all the merch. That's one thing he can't really get over. Toys and action figures. People can buy toys of him. They always have, but he'll never get used to it.

All he wants to do is look at Bucky, but the moment is fragile. He can feel it. So he looks back down at his journal, where he's sketching a young girl he saw with an ice cream cone.]

Funny thing, that. I got this postcard from here, and it'd been a while since I came by, so I thought I'd visit.

[It's a shame that Steve isn't looking, because Bucky almost smiles at that. Not quite, but his usually dour expression gets a lot softer for just a moment.]

I remember spending my last dollar on rides here once, you got sick.

[Bits have been coming back, the journal was a huge help with that.]

I've been coming a lot, it's nice.

[He does look up after that first comment, and he catches a bit of that soft expression. He's not really sure how it makes him feel. It hurts a little, he thinks. But a good kind of hurt.]

Yeah? I came by in the first couple of months after I woke up. I couldn't stand it.

[He looks out at the crowds, smiles a little.]

Guess I just needed some time.

I'm not coming again.

[The soft expression disappears pretty swiftly. It's why he decided to come out to see Steve, he deserved the goodbye.]

I told you, I have a mission now, I'm leaving to complete it soon.

[Hearing Bucky say it aloud is even worse than reading it. Steve's getting a sinking feeling. He really doesn't like where his brain is going with this.]

What's the mission?

[He shakes his head, tiny smile tugging at his lips even if it doesn't reach his eyes.]

Do you want to ride the Cyclone with me?

[It's obvious Bucky's deflecting, but Steve can't bring himself to pry, not when it might mean Bucky just getting up and walking away.

He smiles back, but his doesn't reach his eyes either.]

Yeah, Buck. It'd be nice to try it without throwing up for once.

[He pulls himself up and off the bench, though it's with the slow and deliberate movements of someone not planning to just up and run off any second. Probably.]

You didn't try it when you woke up?

[Steve tucks his journal away in his pocket and stands.]

Well. You were dead. It hurt too much even trying to think about it.

[It's a blatant emotional vulnerability that Steve hardly ever admits even to himself. But it feels necessary right now.]

[The words hit dead on target and Bucky's expression twists into something akin to longing and guilt for a moment.]

Good thing you had other stuff to do, then.

[Other friends, other missions, another life.]

C'mon. I want to ride the back car, at least once.

[That might be the first 'I want' statement that he's used in decades, and it feels oddly nice.]

[Bucky's making assumptions, but Steve can't really correct him when he hears that I want. Good lord, he probably couldn't refuse Bucky anything when he asks like that.]

Alright, alright.

[But the line for the coaster is long, and not moving terribly quickly. So once they're in place, and they have a few moments of quiet, Steve tries again.

To do what, he's not really sure. Confess, maybe. Or just make a connection with his best friend.]

I've missed you.

[He doesn't like the line of people, he feels hemmed in on all sides and he's aware that any one of them could be an enemy. But he keeps his hands shoved deep in his pockets and keeps his posture deliberately slouched and non-threatening so as to not draw attention to himself.]

I know.

[He read the journal.]

But you carried on, Steve, you don't need me around.

[At least he says 'me' now, and not 'him'. He's sort of started to accept that he might be Bucky Barnes.]

[He's quiet at that, worried as hell that his worst fears are true.]

Honestly, Bucky? No, I didn't.

[He's quiet for a moment.]

I don't think I had to go down with that plane.

[It's something he's never admitted to anyone, and only recently has started to admit to himself.]

[His eyes snap up to Steve's face, something terrified and angry burning deep inside them.]

You had Peggy, why would you do that?

[He had other people who cared and needed him. And now he has that too, the Avengers who are a new set of friends and soldiers to fight alongside. Surely he wouldn't go down again if the opportunity presented itself.]

You were gone, Buck. [He says it softly. He shrugs.] I was angry, I was sad, I blamed myself. I might've had Peggy but I didn't really know her that well. I wasn't thinking. In the moment, I looked around and I didn't see any other options and I didn't look for any. I didn't need them.

[He's quiet for a long moment.]

I couldn't see what I had, not really. I see it now, but. Look, Bucky, I might be way off base here but I just don't want you making the same mistake I did.

[His expression shutters off again, though there's a slight tightness to his jaw that says hearing Steve might have wilfully ignored a way to survive is still getting to him pretty badly.]

It's different, Steve.

[He's not denying that those fears might be unfounded.]

Just shut up, or you can ride the cyclone on your own.

[He's hit a nerve, and that isn't remotely encouraging. But Steve doesn't want Bucky to walk away, so he just nods.]

Alright.

[But this ain't the end of it, Barnes.]

[That's what you think, Rogers.

He falls silent for a few minutes, just shuffling forwards when the queue moves slowly.]

The last time I rode this, I think it was with a girl.

[He's definitely more Bucky than he was the last time they saw one another, even if he's not all there yet.]

Probably. [It's as good a change of subject as any.] You were always taking girls out. You weren't even looking to get anywhere most of the time, I don't think. You just wanted to have fun, and you wanted to share it with someone.

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