This started off as a short two chapter fic I was planning, but it's already growing pretty fast, so we'll see how it goes
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Bucky was lost.
That wasn't entirely true, he knew where he was, a street in Brooklyn where he and Steve used to live before the war. He thought about Steve a lot. He still didn't remember everything, but he remembered a lot. He remembered taking care of sickly Steve after his ma died. He remembered bigger Steve rescuing him from Hydra the first time.
He remembered waiting for Steve when they took Bucky again, after he fell.
He didn't know how Steve got big, but he knew somehow they were both Steve.
He knew Steve had cared about him.
He just didn't know if he would still care. He had killed so many, hurt so many. Steve didn't like people who did that.
His familiar thought spiral was interrupted by a small noise nearby, and he reached for his knife instantly.
There was no one nearby, but he heard the sound again, small and high, and determined it was coming from the alley next to him.
While it didn't sound threatening, he had to be sure.
He edged into the alley with his knife raised, and looked around.
At first he saw nothing.
Then he looked down.
Under a small torn apart box was a brown dog. No more than a puppy most likely, and extraordinarily skinny. He judged this was from lack of food.
It made the small noise again and his mind pieced together that the dog was whimpering. Out of fear or hunger, he didn't know, but he slowly knelt to better face the small animal.
"Hello." He said quietly. The small animal looked up at him with wide brown eyes.
"Are you going to hurt me?" He asked it. He didn't remember the proper protocol for interacting with dogs, and he knew it would most likely not understand him, but it felt strangely good to talk to the small animal.
"You are small. Are you afraid?" He asked it, and it seemed to sense his meaning because it whimpered in response.
"I will try not to hurt you small dog. I cannot promise. I have hurt many. But I will try."
The dog crept out of the box and sniffed his real hand curiously. He watched it carefully in case it attacked him, but he let it.
His mind didn't quite know what to do when the small animal started to lick his fingers. It did not hurt, and the small animal was shaking less, so he allowed it to continue.
"Are you all alone too?" He asked it.
It rubbed its head against his hand and he remembered the neighbours had a dog that used to do that, a big golden retriever, and Bucky would run his hand through the fur on its head for a while before the neighbour folks took him back for his walk.
He did the same slowly with the small animal, and it soothed them both.
"You are hungry." He estimated, from the number of ribs visible on the small animal, and his metal hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a small packet of meat he had stolen from a gas station. The small animal looked up quickly at the smell of food, and Bucky placed a small amount of the meat in his real hand before lowering his hand back down.
The food was quickly consumed by the small animal, and he found himself running his hand along its head again.
"You are very affectionate small dog." He noted, and the small animal let out a tiny bark, which sounded to his ears to be a happy one.
Bucky stayed with it, feeding it the last of his food and running his hand along its head until dark.
"Goodbye small dog." He said before standing and walking away.
To his surprise, the small animal was at his side, walking beside him.
"No. Go back to your box small dog. I am not your human." He commanded it before walking again, but it kept following him.
He found a dark grocery store and broke in to resupply his food, and still the small animal followed him.
He stole what little food he could carry and left again, but if he walked a little slower so the small animal could follow more easily he did not do it consciously.
He found a bench and sat down, and after some effort from the small animal to jump up on his own Bucky picked it up gingerly and set it down next to him.
He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he bolted up from his dream.
In his place in the chair it was Steve. Steve screaming, Steve enduring unbearable agony, and Bucky screamed with him, screamed for them to stop hurting him, but they were all him. They were all Bucky, making Steve scream, and feel this pain.
This was why he did not return to Steve.
He was gently snapped out of his panicked awakening by something small and soft rubbing against his real hand, and he luckily remembered the small animal before instinctively killing whatever was touching him.
"Do you see bad things when you sleep too small dog?" He asked as he relaxed his hand a little and stroked the small animal's head.
The small animal soothed him, and he discovered he did not mind its company. He in fact felt a small degree of joy that it had not left during the night.
He followed his day's routine to perfection, as he always did. He rationed his stolen food, now accounting for the small animal as well, and ate his portion for the morning along with the small animal, who ate much faster than he did.
He found a quiet place and built up his strength until he could hear the bustle of noon street activity, at which time he distributed the small animal's portion of food and ate his own.
He dedicated the remainder of the day to locating things from his memory, today it was the shop he faintly remembered Steve's ma working at when they were kids, a used clothing place that old ladies were always dropping donations to.
The place was still there. Many of the places he remembered weren't, but this one was. It looked newer, the sign was blue now instead of green, but it was the same store.
He went in, and it was much the same as his memory, and he stood for a moment to take it in. It smelled the same, it looked the same, the edge of the bin he ran his fingers over felt the same.
He saw the staff looking at the small animal that followed him, but determined they were no threat to it or him and proceeded to ignore them.
He needed new clothing anyway. The long sleeved hooded garment he wore to conceal his arm was beginning to decay, and he had to position his fingers carefully in his pocket so as not to let the metal be visible through the hole in it.
A small female human approached him. "Excuse me mister?"
He saw an older human watching her from a short ways away, and was on his guard. "Yes?"
"Can I please pet your puppy?" She asked with a smile, and he noticed gaps in it as though she had been in a fight and had her teeth punched out.
He paused a moment before nodding, and she knelt to run her hand over the small animal's head.
The small animal seemed to enjoy the affection and he returned to looking for a new hooded garment.
"What's his name?" The small human asked him.
He had not named it, nor did he know it needed a name until this moment.
"Steve." He said after a moment.
"Like Captain America? He's so brave! Mommy says I'm gonna marry a man just like him some day!" The small human babbled, and he did not know the protocol for verbal response in this situation so simply nodded.
"Come on honey, time to go. Say thank you to the nice man for letting you pet his dog." The small human's keeper said as she came over to reign in the child.
"Thank you mister! Bye Steve!" The small human waved, and the small animal made a noise of contentment as they left.
He used what little funds he had left to buy the hooded garment and left, with the small animal still at his heels.
The remainder of the night was finding a new place to stay until morning. He never stayed in the same place twice.
Today he found a small shelter in a park, and hid inside.
As he sat back and watched the small animal he remembered playing with a dog back when he was a kid, a bigger dog but still littler than him. He threw a ball and the dog ran after it in the little room they were in.
He picked up an acorn that had fallen into the park shelter and rolled it at the small animal.
The small animal pounced on the acorn and slid it between its paws before it nudged it with its nose and sent it sliding back to Bucky.
He slid the acorn to a different part of the room and the small animal followed it, pouncing on it once more and playing with it before returning it to Bucky's hand.
This was how he spent the night. He slid the acorn across the floor and watched the small animal paw at it as he contemplated the name he had told the small human.
"Steve?" He asked softly, and the small animal looked at him.
"That is your name small dog. Steve." He informed the small animal.
It barked and slid the acorn back at him.
He slid it back as he thought about Steve and slowly went to sleep.
This went on for one month and three days. The small animal would soothe him from a nightmare, he would exercise, find a new place he remembered, and devote the rest of his night to simply thinking.
The small animal became less small now that it ate regularly, though it was still very small, and it travelled with him everywhere, even helping him carry stolen food in its mouth.
He was surprised to be awoken one night by it barking, before he had had the chance to experience another bad dream.
There was a tall muscular figure in the dark, and he pulled his knife, but stopped when he heard the voice.
"Buck is it really you?"