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 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.

[He snorts a little disparagingly, he can hardly imagine being that carefree flirtatious man. His words are deceptively light, but underpinned with bitterness.]

And look at me now, I bet my own Ma wouldn't recognise me. Which is fair, I guess, since I wouldn't recognise her.

People change, Buck. It's not exactly unusual.

[Steve looks over at Bucky, looks him up and down.]

Yeah, she'd probably nag you to cut your hair and shave, but she'd recognize you. I did.

You never even considered I was just someone who looked similar?

[It seems crazy to him that Steve had staked his life on someone who he thought had died in the war.]

Never.

[Steve scratches the back of his neck as he thinks about that. Yeah, maybe he should have considered that.]

It was more than just looks. I just... knew.

[He glances sideways, a slightly strange look on his face.

Was there something more to their friendship in the past? He doesn't know, he keeps remembering odd feelings, but nothing that would support them.]

What you did was stupid.

Oh, absolutely.

[He actually laughs at that. People have been telling him that... Bucky has been telling him that his whole life.]

But it worked.

[He contents himself with a glare to his side, pretty much killing himself is not the right definition of 'it worked'. But he doesn't say anything else as they finally get to the front of the queue and the attendant directs them into one of the cars.

Bucky fastens his safety bar in place and waits, feeling oddly nervous. He's not done something like this in a long time, just for fun.]

You ready?

[Steve's also kind of nervous as they get seated. After all, the last time he was on this thing, he weighed a hundred pounds less and threw up after.

But hey. It'll be fun. Right?

He looks over at Bucky and smiles, trying to focus on the excitement of the ride and the people around him, not the idea that there's a distinct possibility that this is the last time he'll ever see Bucky.]

Yeah, I think so. You?

Doesn't matter if I'm not, it's too late to get off now.

[The car jerks into motion.

It's such a strange sensation, being boxed into a little rollercoaster car with the man he tried to kill, surrounded by strangers who have no idea how dangerous the man in their mix is.

The ride itself isn't as exhilarating as he remembers it being, maybe because he's done things far more deserving of adrenaline since the last time he rode it, but it's still oddly enjoyable. It's over too fast, they're rolling back to the platform in what seems like moments.

He glances over at Steve, for just a moment the hint of a regretful smile on his face.]

This is my stop, Steve, it's time to go.

[It really is almost a letdown, after everything Steve's been through. But it's entertaining enough, and he doesn't get at all nauseous. He takes the opportunities to look at Bucky when he can, and when it's all over, Steve wishes it could've lasted forever, if only so he doesn't have to say goodbye now.

He feels tears pushing at his eyes, and he can't bring himself to fight them.

He turns to face Bucky and shakes his head.]

It doesn't have to be like this, Buck. It doesn't have to be goodbye.

Yeah, it does.

[His voice is slightly softer, but it's the only indication that this might be even a little hard for him too.]

It's the end of the line, Steve, it's time to accept that.

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