It took me a while, but here's a little sequel/missing piece to "Deeper panic" – this time from Steve's POV. I've been busy lately and actually managed everything I mentioned in the last A/N of "Deeper panic". Got my PhD, got a job, a place to live, and last weekend I wore my Bucky cosplay for the first time and it was so much fun! (Plus, it was very interesting because I had only about 50% functionality of my left arm/hand, I feel even more sorry for amputee Bucky now.)

So today it's been 26 years since December 16, 1991. Gonna have a drink in honor of Howard and Maria Stark and also in honor of Bucky Barnes, who fought back so many years until they broke him.

Always remember

Steve probably looked at his phone a moment longer than he needed to in order to open his music player. He knew it was stupid to expect a message. His team mates were either wise enough not to contact him, or unable to. Sharon had more than enough to deal with to text him now. And actually, so did he, Steve reminded himself and scanned the plain room for a few seconds. It hadn't been long since he and Bucky had arrived in Wakanda and there was still much to be done.

He glanced at Bucky who was sitting with his back against the headboard of the bed and his knees drawn up to his chest. He was still pale, the memories of the nightmare as visible on his face as the numerous bruises and grazes. But he looked more relaxed now than Steve had seen him ever since their first encounter that felt like a lifetime ago. The corners of Steve's mouth twitched as he remembered their conversation, Bucky's memory of the day he'd listened to the radio, his incredulous question about The Boss, and most of all the genuine joy Bucky had obviously felt when he'd made fun of Steve in return.

For a few blissful seconds, it had felt just like the old times. And if a bit of music was all it took to make Bucky smile, then Steve would gladly spend the rest of the night just letting the chords work their magic.

After a couple of clicks Steve found what he'd been looking for. There were still times when modern technology confused him, and every once in a while he cursed it, but he definitely appreciated the benefits of it. Music – anything, anywhere, anytime – was one of them.

Born down in a dead man's town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground

Steve knew the song by heart and barely registered the words. His eyes were set on Bucky who was sitting with his eyes closed and his head rested against the wall behind the bed. The hard lines on his forehead and around the corners of his mouth softened, the ghost of a smile found its way onto his lips. Steve allowed himself a deep breath. This was real. He wouldn't wake up, shaking and dazed, frantically searching the empty room for a familiar face only to find nothing but the small voice that hissed two words. Your fault.

Those two words were the ever-present monster lurking underneath the bed. It had been raging for weeks after that fateful day when he'd watched his friend fall, had whispered to him while around him the real war had neared the end, had woken with him after the decades of sleep. He had managed to keep it at bay, night after night, until he'd thought it dead and gone. And then, one frozen moment in time on a bridge, a face, a pair of familiar eyes had made it scream and lash out more violently than ever.

Captain America had never been infallible, and eventually the world had learned it, too. But they didn't know that Steve Rogers' biggest failure was sitting right in front of him with a missing limb and more scars than any human being should be carrying on their soul.

When you fell, he jumped, the monster hissed, although he couldn't even remember you.

Steve ignored it as best as he could. Instead, he focused on his friend.

Went down to see my V.A. man
He said "Son, don't you understand"

They both had their fair share of scars, he knew that much. He probably should have attended one of Sam's counseling sessions once in a while. But somehow, Steve had never gone there again. Maybe he was a coward after all, he thought. It took a hell of lot of bravery to face your own damaged mind. Steve could only imagine what strength Bucky had had to muster to leave his past behind and get a hold on himself. It was a topic for another time, though. Maybe for never. He thought back on the months after Krausberg. They had never talked about what had happened in the POW camp. It hadn't been for lack of trying from Steve's side – but for once, his best friend had kept a secret from him. Not for the first time did Steve wonder how things might have turned out if he had known the details of Zola's experiments.

Bucky was tapping his index and middle finger against his knee. For a moment Steve remembered the Winter Soldier, the cold eyes, the determined stride as he approached to kill; he heard the clicking and whirring of metal preparing to strike and the aggressive yelling; and he saw the cold eyes widening in horrible understanding and recognition seconds before Steve's own eyes closed and let him drift into unconsciousness. His friend had gone through Hell, abandoned and abused, and he had made it through to the other side. The sheer thought of what he had endured was enough to make Steve's stomach churn.

If he had known what Zola had done and would do – the man wouldn't have been taken alive. A bullet would have been mercy compared to what Steve would have done to him, God help him, he knew it was true.

I had a brother at Khe Sanh fighting off the Viet Cong
They're still there, he's all gone
He had a woman he loved in Saigon
I got a picture of him in her arms now

Something changed in Bucky's posture. The tapping stopped. The muscles of his lower arm twitched as he clenched his hand. Quickly, Steve hit the forward button. Inwardly he cursed himself. No matter what good memories Bucky associated with that song – it was still a song about war, about killing, about dying, and as such, probably not the best choice for someone suffering from PTSD in all its glory. His gaze met Bucky's and he gave him a reassuring smile. The flicker of fear in his friend's eyes didn't go unnoticed. Steve found it suddenly very hard to smile and not ball his fists at the injustice of a world in which the kindest man he'd ever known was scared of being triggered by a piece of music.

The times are tough now, just getting tougher
This old world is rough, it's just getting rougher
Cover me

Bucky nodded ever so slightly in Steve's direction. Thank you, the gesture said. There was no need for words. Steve watched as his friend closed his eyes again. He trusted him, and that alone was more than Steve thought he deserved. Sure, he had helped him and God knew if Bucky would even be alive if Steve hadn't found him in Romania. But still, if he hadn't tried so hard to find him those two years, if Zemo hadn't known how much he cared for a fugitive, if –

No. No more if's. The past was the past and he'd deal with the present as best as he could. Steve stifled a sigh. Things had been much easier when everything had been less grey and more black and white. Now, the frontiers between good and bad had shifted, become less defined, and friendships were caught in the crossfire of two sides waging war. So much had been broken and Steve asked himself how those pieces could ever be put back together. He might apologize. He might admit that he'd been wrong.

It would be a lie.

No matter what had happened, his heart had not changed. He still believed in the good of his actions, and he clung to the hope that they had been worth it. He had made mistakes along the way, but he was, after all, only human. Humans failed.

Now young faces grow sad and old and hearts of fire grow cold
We swore blood brothers against the wind
I'm ready to grow young again

The speakers of his phone were awful. The guitar was a bit too shrill, the voice sounded slightly off. But technically, it was still better than listening to music coming from an old radio through the thin walls of a shabby flat.

Who would have known that those years in Brooklyn - when money had been worthless and even bare necessities hard to come by, when Mrs. Rogers had struggled so hard to make a living for herself and her sickly son, when Bucky had asked her if Stevie was gonna die with so much fear in his voice that Steve had heard it even through the rattling in his chest with every labored breath – would eventually be the best memories? There had been days when Steve had been sure that he wouldn't live past the age of 20, but he'd always been a fighter. If Death wanted him, he would have to drag him kicking and screaming after prying him from his mother's strong hands, he'd known that.

Well, Bucky would have had a say in that matter, too.

He took care of you all those years and when he needed you the most, you weren't there, the monster hissed.

He couldn't have known. He couldn't have. Silently, Steve repeated the words in his head, recalled Natasha's and Sam's words as well, but still… But still.

Somehow he always came back to this.

There's a war outside still raging
You say it ain't ours anymore to win

He'd dropped his shield not once, but twice now. Some might say he'd done it for Bucky, and they wouldn't be entirely wrong. But Steve knew that it ran deeper than that. He remembered the day when he'd talked to Peggy. All we can is our best, she'd said, when he had doubted and questioned himself and his role in the world. He had done his best, over and over again. But still.

He'd found his faith shattered when SHIELD had been compromised, he'd lived with the knowledge that the actions of the Avengers had resulted in collateral damage, he'd talked to the press and smiled and found excuses when inside he'd been screaming. The wars had never stopped, just changed, and his role had always been clear. Eventually he'd come to the point where he'd almost forgotten what life in peace looked like. He'd had his shield, his suit, and the world needed Captain America, didn't it?

Maybe the world didn't need Captain America as much as Steve Rogers did.

Maybe he had hidden behind the stars and stripes and lost himself in the process.

Maybe Ultron had been wrong; maybe he could live without a war, but couldn't remember how.

He had dropped the shield without even thinking about the consequences. He wondered if there'd come a day of regret. His old life was over – again. Steve couldn't help but ask himself how often a man could start over in life. Was there a limited number of times you could restart? And how would that new beginning look like? Right now, everything was a blank space.

I want to sleep beneath peaceful skies in my lover's bed
With a wide open country in my eyes
And these romantic dreams in my head

His thoughts turned to Sharon. He still didn't know what it was between them. He felt something for her, sure. He wouldn't have kissed her if he didn't. A long time ago, even something as simple as dancing had seemed impossible without the right partner. Maybe Sharon was the right one for him. She was intelligent and kind, courageous and loyal. She was a great woman and for some reason, she seemed to genuinely like him.

You're a fugitive now, it's too late. You let her down just like Peggy and Bucky, the monster gnarled.

Steve bit his lip and tried to calm the voice inside his head. He willed himself to be rational about it. Was there even a future for the two of them? He realized that he had no idea what Sharon wanted in life. Heck, he didn't even know what he wanted. Many decades ago, he had been a different man. When he'd been young, he hadn't even considered the possibility of finding a dame with more than pity for his frail, sickly self. But back then, he'd dreamed of it. He would never have settled for just any girl, though. Bucky had called him a hopeless romantic and then tried to set him up with one of his current date's friends.

He wondered what had happened to these dreams of old. Had he really become so cynical? Had that dream been frozen just like the rest of him and never been thawed?

Keep it together, Rogers, you've got more important things to worry about.

Trying to stretch his legs, Steve shifted a little on the mattress. It was enough to jostle Bucky and Steve almost expected him to comment on his age letting itself known. He wouldn't mind the jest. He had been on the receiving end of some pretty powerful punches and even though he wouldn't admit it, he felt them. There was no way he'd worry his friend with it, though. Cuts and bruises and some cracked ribs would heal in a fortnight. He'd had far worse.

Yeah, and the reason for that is sitting right in front of you, the monster snickered. You let him fall, that's what you gonna get.

It was much harder to ignore that.

He felt a light kick against his ankle. Bucky looked at him questioningly and Steve realized that his frowning hadn't gone unnoticed. Bucky might not be back to his old self, but apparently his Steve radar was working reliably.

"It's nothing, Buck, don't worry."

There would be a time and place to talk about such things. This wasn't it, but eventually there would be.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at Steve, though didn't say anything. His gaze rested on Steve a while longer before he finally closed his eyes again. It didn't take long until the smile returned to his face.

Now you hung with me when all the others turned away, turned up their nose
We liked the same music, we liked the same bands, we liked the same clothes

Now we went walking in the rain, talking about the pain from the world we hid
Now there ain't nobody, nowhere nohow, gonna ever understand me the way you did

It could have been a peaceful moment if it wasn't for the serious talk earlier. Steve hated the idea of Bucky going into cryofreeze again. He understood, rationally, his arguments for that decision, but that didn't make it any easier. After everything he'd been through, Bucky shouldn't have to be reasonable in a way that made him dependent and vulnerable, to put it mildly. It wasn't like Steve didn't trust the people of Wakanda. King T'Challa had proven that he deserved trust and the medical team here was outstanding. They'd do their best to make Bucky feel as comfortable as possible. And Bucky was right, he was a risk.

But still.

Deep down Steve knew that he was being selfish. A selfish coward.

He held on so tight to that connection to his old life that he forgot to think of those around him. His heart had been broken with Peggy's last breath, and with everything else going on he probably would have run and hidden if it hadn't been for Sam. Sam, and the knowledge that Bucky was out there, on the run but alive, the one Steve had failed but could still save.

Some might claim that he had rescued him – actually, Bucky would be the first one to say so – but in Steve's opinion, no one had saved his friend but Bucky himself. He had played a small part by setting things in motion, but he was no savior. He wasn't a hero.

Heroes were selfless. Heroes were sensible. Right now, he was neither of those things. The sheer thought of watching Bucky going into cryo again made his stomach do a most unpleasant turn. It conjured memories of nightmares in which he'd seen his friend lying broken on the snowy ground, with frost creeping up his body until, at last, once blue eyes had glazed over and become empty.

He was scared.

He was afraid of watching the whole procedure, of losing Bucky again, and most of all he was terrified by the idea that it might take years for the doctors to find a cure.

Steve didn't allow himself to even consider the possibility that they might never find one.

There was so much he would like to talk about, so many things he wanted to know, wanted to tell, and still the clock was ticking mercilessly against them. It was ironic, he thought, that two people who were almost forever young could run out of time. They weren't the same young men they'd once been, some memories were lost forever, but even during their short time together the small, precious moments had been enough for Steve to realize what he'd been missing all these years. He had come to love his team mates, each and every one of them in their own way, with all their flaws and. But most of them had only seen him as Captain America for too long. Sam had been the first to actually see him for himself. It had been more difficult with Natasha and Clint. And Tony – no. He didn't want to think about him.

So was I.

Their relationship had always been difficult, the differences almost too big to overcome. But somehow, they had managed, had learned to trust each other, and eventually even developed a friendship that had seemed impossible at their first encounter. Now this friendship was broken and Steve had no idea if they'd be able to fix it. Sometimes, the pieces were just too ragged, too scattered, to be put back together.

None of these friendships compared to what Steve and Bucky had had. If there was even the smallest chance to get just a fraction of it back, Steve would move mountains to accomplish it. In the end, it always came down to this. It made the prospect of yet another farewell all the harder to accept.

It was Bucky's choice, and God knew he deserved to make his own decision. Steve would support him, he would stand by and put on a brave face, knowing that Bucky had much more reason to be afraid, and he wouldn't let that mask slip until much later.

And I'm just calling one last time, not to change your mind
But just to say I miss you, baby

Good luck, goodbye, Bobby Jean

There was one difference, though. This time, for the first time since 1943, they would get to say goodbye.

Don't do anything stupid until I get back.

He'd done some stupid things in his life. Trying to jump the – ridiculously small - fence to chase after some rogue who'd robbed a girl back in '38. He'd ended up with a broken ankle, an asthma attack and one very mad James Buchanan Barnes. Stupid. Following said James Barnes to Coney Island to ride the Cyclone. Immensely stupid. Taking too long to understand Agent Carter's signals and missing the opportunity to take her dancing. Beyond the scope of stupidity.

Taking the serum and becoming Captain America? No regrets there.

He couldn't help but wonder how his life could have been if he had never done it. He'd certainly be long dead by now. He would never have met Peggy. He would have stood by, bound to watch instead of doing something, while the war was fought and eventually won. He would have opened the door to a crying woman, learning about the death of his best friend from a telegram, never knowing what really happened.

He forced himself to think of something else.

A smile played at Steve's lips as he recalled the summer of 1935. It had been extremely hot for weeks, so that even Steve with his bad lungs and generally crappy health could sleep with his window wide open. Bucky had cursed the heat, because work at the docks had been even harder than usual, and Steve remembered how Bucky's sisters had laughed at his white hands standing out in stark contrast to his red, sunburnt arms. Bucky had actually considered working without his gloves just to get a more even tan – not that the sunburn could count as such. It had still been visible in November. During that summer, Steve and Bucky had discovered the pool in Mr. Stokes' garden. They had snuck out of their houses at night, met at the fence, Bucky had given Steve a leg-up before climbing the fence himself and they'd stayed there until sunrise. Bucky had almost been late for work, their mothers had been furious, but it had been worth it. The eight days until Mr. Stokes' return from his business trip were still some of the best that Steve could remember.

Glory days, well they'll pass you by
Glory days in the wink of a young girl's eye

Today, Bucky couldn't probably care less about a tan and a fancy haircut; he had no dame to impress and no dance to go to. Steve's heart ached thinking that he might never do. In that moment, as he looked at his friend with his lips pressed to a line and melancholy threatening to take him down, Bucky's chin dipped slightly. His hair fell into his face and his hand slipped from where it had been resting on his knee. Apparently, the sudden movement shook him awake at the last second. He blinked a few times before he let his head fall back against the headrest. He probably hadn't even noticed, but Steve had seen it.

For the blink of an eye, Bucky had fallen asleep.

It was weird to be affected by such a simple, everyday act, but Steve suddenly found his eyes burning. It was a good kind of burning, though, stemming from happiness rather than sadness. It was a small, but undeniable proof of the newfound trust Bucky had for him. It was nothing like their first encounter in Bucharest when he'd looked at Steve with all the expression of a caged colt. Neither was it like the beginning of the night when Steve had been lying on the sofa, watching his friend tossing and turning in his bed from across the room. This time, Bucky was relaxed.

Steve wished he had a pencil and a sketchpad to keep the moment on paper. The next day, the peace would be gone, and whatever was to come then, he would face it alone. But this – this was a moment he wanted to always remember. He wished he could just stay there and look at his friend, at peace, free to choose his life, safe and maybe even happy. No camera could capture this the way a pencil could. If he could draw but one last picture, this would be it.

God, if Sam knew what he was thinking, he'd never hear the end of it.

Steve Rogers, on behalf of every straight man on this planet, he'd once said, could you please just be gay? Once we find that brainwashed assassin boyfriend of yours, you two settle down somewhere far away where girls can't find you and when they cry over the loss of Steve Rogers, I'll be the one to comfort them.

He had then proceeded to smack him across the head and mumble something about the unfairness of the world and Steve's unwillingness to bring his looks to good use being a waste of resources. Good times.

Well, Steve and Bucky were indeed far away now. But Sam was imprisoned – God knew how much he enjoyed the company. And as for Bucky… it had never been like that. Steve would find it hard to explain exactly what it was between them. Then again, no one had ever really asked.

Friendship wasn't meaningful enough. Everybody had friends these days. Facebook friends, gym buddies, friends with benefits – it had taken Steve a while to understand the concept of that one! –, the list was endless. Nothing on that list even came close to the connection they'd had. Still had, he corrected himself, somewhere underneath the scars and bruises. It was still there.

Maybe they would never go dancing or to science fairs, they would probably never get married and be godfathers of each other's children. But Steve believed, with every fiber of his being, that they would finally go where Bucky had promised to take him all those decades ago. To the future.

Sudden silence interrupted his thoughts. The album had reached the end and intuitively Steve entered a song name into the search bar that was one of his few guilty pleasures.

Years have gone by, my my how she grew
I liked her looks when I carried her books in Kalamazoo

The familiar 40s beat made Steve tap his feet with the rhythm. It brought back memories of a night in some shabby bar, back when the world – his world – had still been in one piece. There was no going back, he knew that. But he could go forward and even though he might have to take some steps on his own, he wouldn't really be alone.

After a while, he found an online radio stationed which he turned on. Bucky registered the change in music and looked at Steve with furrowed brows from across the bed. Steve smiled and shrugged, not knowing the singer even though the song sounded familiar, and he glanced at the computer.

The red-headed English man. He could live with that.

"Reminds me of our flat in Brooklyn. We couldn't afford a radio, but Mrs. Stanley from next door would turn hers up so loud that we could hear it through the walls."

Bucky flashed him a broad smile in return.

"I think I remember that. Glory days indeed." He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and studied the inside of his palm for a moment. "Damn, I never thought I'd ever find myself listening to music with anyone ever again, let alone with you."

Steve choked down the lump threatening to form in his throat.

"Well, I never thought I'd still be alive in the 21st century. I guess sometimes good things happen after all. Doesn't make up for all that's happened, but –" His voice trailed off.

"Yeah. It's something."

Steve rubbed his chin. The stubble prickled against his palm and he winced when he probed the area of his jaw where a bruise had already formed. It wasn't the first time he'd been on the receiving end of a fist to the face, but somehow it hurt more today that it had back in the back alleys of Brooklyn.

"Are you sure you're alright? Might wanna have the doctors check on you again", Bucky said with narrowed eyes. "He hit you hard and I don't know how I can deal with you passing out in my bed. People might talk", he added with a wink.

Steve grinned wryly and attempted to kick Bucky. He stalled at the last moment. Even though it was just an act, he decided they'd both had been kicked enough for a lifetime.

"It's the new millennium. I actually think people might not talk half as much as you'd expect. But don't worry, I'm fine and I have no intentions whatsoever. Plus, I'm not the one whose semi-conscious ass had to be dragged back to the jet, jerk."

Steve didn't realize his slip of tongue until he felt the pinch of sadness when Bucky didn't react to the nickname. Immediately, he scolded himself for his disappointment. There was so much that his friend remembered. Small steps would still lead to new destinations.

"So what about the girl?" Bucky asked, serious again. "What's her name, Shannon?"

"Sharon. Like the actress." When Bucky looked at him questioningly, Steve did a quick search with his phone and handed it over. "Sharon Stone. Movie star. Never heard of her?"

Bucky shook his head and looked closely at the pictures before giving the phone back.

"Pretty. Doesn't look her age. Then again…" He gestured at himself first, then at Steve, and gave a one-shouldered shrug.

"I'll put her on the list", Steve decided, then explained: "Sam gave me this list of things to catch up with, movies and music mostly. I feel like every time I get to scratch something off, two new things show up. I was so proud after doing that Star Wars marathon – Tony was the only one who managed to stay awake with me and I guess he had like five gallons of coffee to thank for that. And then they released a new film which Clint decided called for another marathon."

He rolled his eyes in a very exaggerated manner. In truth, though, the movie nights in the tower had always been great. Steve had never forgotten his first movie – he and Bucky had snuck into the theatre – and all those decades later, he still enjoyed the way he could escape reality for just a while and get lost in foreign worlds.

"Sounds nice", Bucky said and gave Steve a lopsided smile. "I'm afraid that by the time I get out of here, there'll be a dozen Star Wars movies and our marathon will last two days."

Steve tried his best to ignore the way his chest tightened at Bucky's choice of words.

It won't be long.

He focused on the second part of the sentence.

"Sounds perfect to me, Buck. I take that as a promise."

"As you should. Wars in space… might be fun. Like, on screen. Not like the alien army or whatever it is you fought a couple of years ago."

Steve didn't even ask how Bucky knew about that. He might have hidden well enough, but apparently he had found ways to do his research. Steve didn't really want to be reminded of that time. He had been catapulted into an unknown world and, having lost everyone from his past, he had tried his hardest to adapt and help to save this new world from the same evil that should have been destroyed decades ago. He had learned then, in those first weeks, that evil was never vanquished. It could hide sometimes, blend in with the good, lay low, but eventually it would come forth. It was frustrating.

Without evil, you wouldn't have anything to fight, the monster snarled. It would drive you mad.

Steve shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. He focused on Bucky. Evil could be defeated. Living proof of that was sitting right in front of him. Bucky had been stronger than HYDRA.

"I guess the shrinks would appreciate this. Me making plans for the future, I mean", said Bucky quietly. "Like I don't see myself as a lost cause."

"That's because you aren't, Buck", Steve answered immediately and maybe a bit too harshly. "I know you're not."

Bucky didn't reply at first and Steve felt the knot forming in his stomach again. He didn't want to have this discussion. He could tell Bucky a thousand times over that he would be fine and still not get through to him.

"Buck, you –"

"I know I'm not. Not anymore, I suppose." Bucky smiled cautiously. He glanced at his left shoulder, touched the stump with the black cap on it, then examined his grazed hand. "I thought I was too broken, but being here, with all these people who want to help… with you… it makes me almost believe that I'm not beyond repair. Fixable, somehow."

Steve hated the way Bucky chose his words. He wasn't a machine with broken parts, much less a malfunctioning weapon. But his friend didn't seem bitter, so Steve decided to swallow down the words he wanted to say. At least Bucky believed that he could be fixed. It was an accomplishment, given that not long ago he had been so full of doubt after his nightmare episode. It wasn't what Steve ultimately hoped for, but it was… something.

"Remember the bike your dad found at the scrapyard?" The image of the bike had just popped up in his head. "It was completely useless at first sight. Dented handlebar, flat tires, rust everywhere… but your dad said, 'You'll ride that thing on your tenth birthday', and you did."

Bucky creased his forehead in concentration. Steve watched him and his heart almost skipped a beat when he saw the change in his friend's eyes. Confusion turned into recognition, and his pressed lips turned into a smile.

"It was green, wasn't it? With a bit of black?"

"Exactly. Your dad must have worked nightshifts to sand, prime and paint it. I don't even know where he got the paint. But it turned out perfectly."

He emphasized the last part, hoping that he got the message across.

"I don't know what happened to it", Bucky wondered. "I guess I grew out of it eventually."

Steve hesitated before he answered carefully.

"It was handed down to your brother."

He watched Bucky closely, almost regretting the mentioning of one of his siblings the same moment he'd said it. The effect of the words was palpable. Bucky paled visibly, the smile vanished, and Steve wanted to kick himself.

"Buck, I'm –"

"Don't be sorry." Bucky took a deep breath. "I did my research, I know I had siblings. It's just…"

He bit is lower lip and avoided Steve's eyes.

"It's just that I keep forgetting what they looked like. I wrote down their names and the images came up in my head, but they never stayed. It sucks. But there's nothing I can do about it, so I guess I should just be happy that I remember them at all, even if their faces are a blur. Tommy had blonde hair. Annie used to steal mum's lipstick when she was fifteen. I remember the black ribbon with tiny white dots that she had in her hair one day."

Steve struggled to fight down the lump in his throat. The day Bucky was thinking of was the worst day of his life. If losing Bucky had felt like the earth was ripped from under his feet, then laying his mother to rest had made his universe implode. His goddamn pride had made him put on a mask that he hadn't even allowed Bucky to see past. It had taken his best friend weeks until Steve had finally agreed to share a flat with him – to save money, Bucky had said, but Steve knew that he had been worried sick about his orphaned friend and needed to keep an eye on him. Bucky had worked himself tired at the docks and thrown in extra shifts to get food on the table and save Steve the embarrassment of going to one of the numerous soup kitchens. He hadn't cared about the fact that Steve couldn't work half as much as Bucky due to his poor health.

If Steve was sure about one thing, it was the fact that he wouldn't have been alive by the time Pearl Harbor was bombed if it hadn't been for Bucky.

"A penny for your thoughts."

"Not a chance."

"How about… one buck?"

Bucky said it with all the seriousness he could muster, which was taking a lot of effort, judging from the way he pressed his lips together and still couldn't suppress the corners of his mouth twitching. Steve on the other hand didn't even try to keep himself from smiling broadly. He didn't know whether Bucky had just come up with the bad pun or actually remembered it from the past, but he couldn't care less. He shook his head and looked straight at his friend.

"I already got one, that's enough."

And God knew he meant it.

Bucky didn't answer for a while. He tucked a lose strand of hair behind his ear and bit the nail of his ring finger. From the corner of his eye Steve could see the sky through the window. The night was almost over, the sun would rise soon. It wasn't the first time that he had spent a sleepless night, but it was certainly one he'd remember.

"Enough…" Bucky repeated, his voice just a whisper, as if he was talking to himself. "I know I am, for you. But how can I be enough for myself?"

"Buck –"

"I've been on the run for two years. I never knew what I was missing. But this…" He let his gaze wander across the room before he set it onto Steve. "I can't remember the last time I had this. And if I hide again, I'll always remember it, and I'll miss it. But as long as this stuff is inside my head, I need to hide. I can't really be around anyone. People will get hurt."

Steve opened his mouth to object, but Bucky stopped him.

"It's a fact, Steve. They will get hurt, one way or the other. You will get hurt. And you don't deserve that."

"Neither do you."

"Maybe I don't, maybe I do. All I know is that I want to live a life. My life. I need to be myself again and maybe, somehow, I can make amends for what I've done."

This time, Steve didn't try to interrupt him. He could see from the expression on Bucky's face that his friend had made his decision.

"It'll be the best for everyone. The people here are geniuses, they'll find a way. You need to believe that."

Bucky spoke firmly, and Steve understood the underlying plea.

I need you to believe for the both of us.

He nodded and fought against the tightness in his chest.

"I will."

He gave his best to make his voice sound strong. He would never let Bucky see that he was still scared. He would swallow his own fears, so that Bucky could face his. It was a kind of bravery that he had never needed to possess before, and maybe it exceeded Captain America's strength.

But Steve Rogers could bring up that bravery to face this fight. As long as he had someone worth fighting for, he would do it, even if he'd tear himself apart in the process.

"I promise, Buck."

A/N:

I couldn't resist throwing in that bit about Steve and Bucky being gay or not. Both Chris and Seb have admitted that the Steve/Bucky relationship has been a bit Brokeback Mountain style at times, so I thought it was funny to actually have the characters at least brush the topic. Personally, I don't think they are, so I'm sorry, dear Stucky shippers. I hope you enjoyed the story anyway.

Sharon Stone was Seb Stan's teenage crush and he actually got to meet her on TV where he flirted so hard with her (only to blush like a schoolboy when she called him cute). It's on Youtube and absolutely hilarious!

I don't know the names of Bucky's siblings so I made them up.

Songs:

Born in the USA (note: for me, one of Springsteen's most powerful songs, and I kind of think that it fits Steve. It's a song by someone who loves his country but isn't blind to what is going wrong it and who doesn't hesitate to speak out against it)

Cover me

No surrender (note: one of my favourites)

Bobby Jean (note: I actually contemplated to leave out the "baby", but then decided against it, even if it might make it sound like I ship Stucky. But there are different interpretations of the song and I'll with the following: (from Wiki) "The title character's name is somewhat gender ambiguous,allowing for various interpretations. Nonetheless, "Bobby Jean" is often considered to have been written about his long-time friendship with Steve Van Zandt, who was leaving the E Street Band at the time: for example, Swedish journalist Richard Ohlsson made the interpretation in his book Bruce Springsteen: 16 Album that the title contained both a male and a female name because "the friendship with Bobby Jean is so strong that it's almost a kind of love." When this song is played live with the E Street Band, close ups of Van Zandt are often shown on the bigscreens."

Glory days

(all by Bruce Springsteen)

(I've Got A Gal In) Kalamazoo (Glenn Miller)