Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or any other references to Marvel's spectacular universe.
Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Here's a little one shot that I hope will help make your Thanksgiving week a little brighter. As a gift to me during this holiday season, make sure you leave a review!
I dedicate this story to my wonderful friends. You guys are such an amazing blessing. I couldn't ask for more!
Couldn't Ask for More
The Winter Soldier slipped into the shadow of a tall building, glancing behind him to see if he had been followed. He saw no one, but he felt a presence close at hand. He had felt it before, and he knew who it was. Captain America. That stubborn man had been following him for more than a week. The Soldier might be elusive, but he simply could not shake the persistent super soldier from his trail.
What could the ridiculous man want, anyway? The Soldier had read the information at the museum, but surely the Captain knew that even if the Soldier had once been Bucky, he could never be that man again. And even if a part of Bucky were still somewhere in his mind—it was a possibility the Soldier could not wholly deny—there could never be a friendship between himself and Captain America. It was not possible, no matter how much the Captain believed otherwise.
And that was why the Soldier ran. He ran because he could not hurt this good man again. He ran because the Captain brought confusion and pain with him. He ran because he did not know what to do. All he knew was that he was programmed to bring harm, and he did not want to hurt anymore.
The Soldier scurried through the alleyway and climbed a metal ladder up several stories of the building. When he was near the top, he felt a drip of water land on his face as rain began to fall. Perhaps this would help him slip away. At last, he leapt onto the roof and ran across it, hoping to gather enough momentum to leap to the next building. However, before he reached the end of the roof, he was forced to stop dead in his tracks. Standing in front of him, dressed in his uniform, but without his shield or helmet, was Captain America.
For a brief second, neither man moved. The rain was now falling steadily, but it was virtually unnoticed. The Soldier suddenly came to himself and turned to run from the Captain, but a commanding voice kept him from carrying out his intention.
"Stop," Captain America said with authority. "Bucky, please," he added in a more desperate tone.
The Soldier whirled around fiercely. "Don't call me that," he said through gritted teeth. His fiery eyes suddenly filled with emotion. Snatches of memory flashed in his mind, and he saw the face of Captain America in them. He knew this man. He had once loved this man as a brother.
"Leave me be," he growled softly, trying to maintain an image of control, though sadness and confusion were growing recklessly in his thoughts. "Just stop following me."
"I can't do that, Buck. I can't let you go again."
"You're too late. Bucky is dead." The Soldier's face lacked expression as he said it. He had regained some more power over himself, but that did not stop the doubts from forming in his mind. Was Bucky really dead? The Soldier was becoming less certain the more he looked into the Captain's eyes.
Steve.
The name came into his head like a plea. Steve, help me, please. The Soldier tried to shake the thoughts from his head, but they seemed anchored to his soul. At the presence of such silent cries, Hydra's training sliced through his mind, causing him immense pain. His brow furrowed and his eyes misted over. How it hurt.
Suddenly he couldn't take it anymore. He had to remove himself from this situation. His panic must have been obvious in his eyes, because Steve took a step forward, reaching out his hand.
"No!" the Soldier roared. Involuntarily, he thrust out his metallic arm and punched Steve in the face.
Unprepared for the sudden attack, Steve fell onto his back. As on the Helicarrier, he did not retaliate or even adequately prepare himself for defense. He merely looked up at his friend with tears shining in his eyes.
"Bucky, it's okay," he said, holding out his hands as a token of peace.
The Soldier looked in horror at the blood on Steve's cheek and lip. What had he done? Turning from the scene in anguish, the Soldier dashed away as fast as he could.
"Bucky!" Steve called out desperately.
The Soldier could hear the Captain's footsteps behind him, but he did not turn around. He ran as fast as he could toward the edge of the roof. Gathering himself for a jump, he leapt over the alleyway and onto the adjacent building. He landed with grace and continued sprinting across the roof.
The next jump loomed ahead, and the evidence of pursuit kept the Soldier running at top speed. When he reached the edge, he jumped, but as his foot left the roof, it slipped on the wet ground, and he found himself with significantly reduced momentum. He did make it to the next building, but he slammed into the side, jarring his ribs badly. He clawed quickly for anything to grab in the split second he knew he had before falling downward, and his hands found a wooden piece of siding. Part of it broke from the building, but fortunately most of it held firm.
The Soldier looked about himself frantically, weighing his options. There were no windows on this side of the building, and if he dropped to the ground from this height, he would likely break his legs. The bricks that pressed against his side did not have sufficient gaps for climbing. The siding he clung to was the lowest of several long strips of wood, and he dangled out of reach of them. He would have to try to inch his way up the piece of siding in his hands until he could reach the ones nailed into the wall. Then he would only have to reach up and grab the edge of the roof. But any small movement could cause the siding on which he hung to break free completely.
A dark shape flew above him, landing onto the building near him, and the Soldier whirled his head around to see what the shadow had been. Several more staples came out of the wall and the siding slipped a few more inches downward. The Soldier gulped and blinked the rain out of his eyes as he looked at the hard pavement far below. The siding would not hold much longer.
"Bucky!" Captain America yelled in fear from a few feet above the Soldier's head.
Daring to turn his gaze up, the Soldier saw the Captain's face. Steve's face. A memory triggered, and he knew this had happened before. Steve stretched out his arm, though the Soldier couldn't be sure if he did so in real life on if it was only part of the memory.
"Grab my hand," Steve said.
The Soldier's dead eyes filled with a spark of purpose, and he extended his arm towards the man he had once been told was a threat to freedom. He knew now that such nonsense was indeed a lie.
The siding tore free from the building at the Soldier's movement, and he let out a cry as he began to fall. But suddenly he stopped. Snapping his head back in the direction of the roof, the Soldier saw Steve had grasped the end of the siding. It was slowly slipping through his bare hands, and from Steve's grimace of pain, the Soldier knew that the staples were piercing the Captain's skin. All of the Soldier's weight was pulling the sharp nails down, digging deep gashes through Steve's palms, but the stubborn super soldier held on.
Steve shifted his legs around and slowly began to rise. The Soldier got higher and higher until he could reach the roof's edge. He quickly gripped its sides, and Steve let the siding go with a gasp. He hurried to his friend's aid and hoisted him onto the solid ground, collapsing into a sitting position and clamping his hands shut as soon as the Soldier was safe.
The Soldier was now free to run, but suddenly he couldn't. He just had stood to his feet, but when he cast a last glace at Steve, he became rooted to his spot. Steve. Something triggered in the Soldier's mind when he looked into Steve's pain filled eyes. Pity. But not just pity for a good man. This feeling was far too potent to be generated by mere respect. What little reverence and admiration the Soldier remembered feeling in the past had never made him wonder if his heart was being torn out. This was not pity for a hero or a soldier. This was deep and sorrowful pity for a friend. His friend.
"Steve," Bucky said in a broken voice.
Steve's gaze focused with hope, and his jaws parted. "Bucky?"
"Steve," Bucky said again. He took a step toward his friend before crashing to his knees. He lifted his hands to cover his face as he doubled over, sobbing bitterly. So many emotions erupted in his mind that he was oblivious to his surroundings. He was not aware that his friend had moved until he had been wrapped in a close embrace that warmed him to the core. He put his arms around Steve's strong back and gripped his friend tightly, unwilling to let go. He wept into Steve's shoulder, finding comfort there that he had not known for many years.
"It's okay, Buck," Steve said soothingly. "I am never going to let you fall again."
They stayed like that for a long time. Bucky was completely content, and he would probably have never moved except that he eventually remembered what had just happened. Pulling back, Bucky noticed that it had stopped raining. The sun was just beginning to peek out from the clouds, and light streamed onto the rooftop. Steve's face was illuminated by the sun's rays, and Bucky saw that it was streaked with not only rain, but tears. Blood still touched the corner of his mouth, and a bruise was forming on his cheek. However, what stood out the most was Steve's small, yet powerful smile.
Bucky then turned his attention to what had worried him in the first place: Steve's hands. The fingers were still tightly curled together, but blood seeped through them and ran in a line down his hands.
"Your hands," Bucky breathed.
Steve jerked them back like a child. "I'm fine," he insisted, though he was hardly convincing. He quickly realized this, and he gave a sheepishly grin followed by a casual shrug. "Well, what had to be done had to be done."
It was quiet for a moment; both men simply stared at each other and cherished the ability to do so. But then a shadow of grief passed over Steve's face, and he looked down in shame.
"Bucky," he said slowly. "I'm so sorry that I didn't catch you when you fell off that train. It's my fault that Hydra found you, and that they—"
"Don't you dare," Bucky said angrily, standing up. "It wasn't your fault, and I don't want you to ever say that again." Bucky's tone was harsh, and his face was serious, but then his expression softened. "I can't listen to you beat yourself up like that…punk."
Steve beamed and stood up beside his friend. "You always were a jerk."
The sun was now setting, and the two men looked at it silently for a few moments, enjoying its beauty. Neither had been without a burden hanging over his head for a very long time, and now the peace seemed even more glorious than they remembered.
"I am probably the most thankful man that ever lived," Steve said distantly.
"No," Bucky said, turning to face Steve. "I am." He glanced down at Steve's bloody hands and felt tears form in his eyes again. Steve had risked everything for him countless times. Steve had endured excruciating pain with only selfless hope in his eyes. Steve had been loyal to the point of death, and all of it for love of his brother, who had caused him so much pain.
"I have the best friend in the world."
Steve's smile softened slightly, and he put his arm around Bucky's shoulder. "Come on, soldier. Let's go home."
Bucky fell from a train in 1945, barely surviving the incident. He lost his left arm as a result, and then he was subject to countless tortures until his spirit broke. He was forced to carry out murder after murder, flooding his hands with innocent blood. Throughout a period of seventy years, he was locked in the cold bonds of Hydra, used only as an emotionless weapon. And even when he had escaped Hydra's grasp, the scars they inflicted remained real and painful. He could never live or think normally again. But Bucky had Steve, the best friend in the world, and he couldn't ask for more. He was both immensely thankful and wholly content.
I hope you guys enjoyed it! Friendship is one of the most important and beautiful things on the planet to me, and as many parts of the world take a few days to remember what they're thankful for, I decided I'd write a story to match the spirit of the season. A big, fat, holiday thanks to my friends out there: y'all mean so much to me.
If anybody liked this, stay tuned! I should be posting another Thanksgiving fic about Captain America today or tomorrow, and more will follow. The more reviews I get, the harder I'll work on the stories!
As an interesting side note, I noticed what could be seen as some symbolism in this little story after I finished writing it. I did not mean to put this in there at all, but now that I've picked up on it, I thought I might share it with you. Once I was a lost runaway like Bucky. I had all kinds of stains from sin, and shame weighed me down like a heavy burden. But then one whom I had wronged stepped forward and allowed His hands to be pierced for my sake. That would be Jesus, the greatest and most loyal friend of all. Let no one forget all He has done, and let no one attribute our blessings to anyone but Him. He is the giver of all good things; let us all give thanks to Him this Thanksgiving. Can I get an amen?