Hello!

This is a Bucky-centric fic I started quite some time ago and am starting to flesh-out some more. I'm getting a little excited about it :)

*I started this story before "Civil War," but the story will divert to head in that direction eventually

*Author's Note: This story takes place in the Marvel Cinematic Universe BUT with some X-Men along for the ride (aren't we all pretty sad we won't be seeing THAT movie anytime soon!).

Katherine Pryde/Shadowcat will be a main character, so some of her X-Men friends will be mentioned or may pay a visit to the story! I'm not really considering this a cross-over since I'm more-or-less ignoring the X-Men Movies. This is my own take on fitting Shadowcat into the MCU. That being said, a working knowledge of the X-Men comics won't be necessary; any people/places/powers will be explained within the story as needed. Being an X-Men fan will (hopefully) just make the story and any cameos a little extra fun :)

ENJOY!

1.
Do My Eyes Deceive Me?

It was dark, but that wasn't bothersome. He knew the dark; he'd lurked in it extensively. That was not necessarily an aspect of his personality he longed to embrace on a regular basis, but he was comfortable there in the unlit hallway.

Bucky knew he was being creepy. It wasn't normal, really ...not socially acceptable, at least. He shouldn't be watching Steve- not while he was sleeping. It was odd. It would definitely be misconstrued if he were caught ...

Not that he would be.

No one else was in the apartment- he could hear that. Plus, he had already prowled the entire suite to double check when he woke up.

And it was doubtful that Steve would wake. For such a broad man, Bucky moved silently; stealth was a long-engrained skill. Now that he had taken up vigil, squatted there in the doorway, he had no need to move. He only watched without shifting about; he was excellent at remaining still ...such a skill was necessary for a sniper.

But he wasn't eyeing Steve down the barrel of a gun.

He was simply ...watching.

So that he could be sure.

Sometimes he just needed to see. Needed to see that Steve was okay. It was important because he could remember. Bucky remembered shooting Steve. His best friend. He'd shot the blond more than once.

It didn't matter that he had not been sure who Steve was at the time because he had very clear memories, now. He could remember holding the gun, aiming along it at Steve, and his bullet meeting the mark again and again.

At the time he had merely been accomplishing a mission.

Now ...now, it made his stomach roll.

He sometimes woke in a sheen of sweat after a nightmare replayed the events in his mind. Other times, he would actually get sick and wretch ...but he didn't tell Steve this.

Steve would feel guilty. Guilty. As backwards as that was, Bucky knew that it was true. Steve had always been a martyr, and these days he was desperate to protect his old friend; he wouldn't want Bucky to beat himself up for what he'd done under HYDRA's influence. Instead, he would use that enhanced brain power of his to find a way to take responsibility for the whole debacle ...even if it meant rewinding time so far as to claim he should've saved Bucky back on that damned train.

That argument had been made before and had ended in a fight ...a very literal, physical fight. It hadn't been pretty; Bucky had just been so mad.

So he didn't tell Steve every single little detail anymore.

He wanted to save the time and energy that would go into a fight about history and blame and reasons. He wanted to save their friendship any pain - Lord knew he had already caused enough of it already.

He stared towards the blond head laid upon a pillow in the bed before him. Steve slept soundly. His breathing was deep and regular. He was fine.

He was fine, and he would probably stay fine.

He was Captain America these days, after all. He was not little Stevie who had to be looked after following any bump or even a substantial scare- his body matched that stout heart of his, now.

Bucky lapsed into thought about memories of them together back before the war. He didn't remember absolutely everything from that time, yet -bits and pieces were missing and he wasn't sure about chronology-- but most of it was there for him. A lot of it was hard and dark and horrifying, but there were lighter times, too: camaraderie, laughing, music, friends ...even a few girls when he'd been lucky.

When the brunette pulled himself back to the present, he knew he should get up and leave the doorway. He had been lingering there too much.

And Steve was just fine. Perfectly calm and safe.

Despite that he knew this and could even see the evidence directly in front of him, it took Bucky a little while longer to force his legs into standing and then to retreat from Steve's room.

He was not really prepared to go to sleep, so he paced the living room restlessly. He wouldn't be able to return to sleep yet; there was no point in even pretending to try.

After some more fidgeting, Bucky decided to use the gym upstairs- Stark Tower had one whole floor reserved for working out and training. There, he will be able to burn-off his energy. He quickly changed in his bedroom, but then he hesitated at the elevator. He was perfectly free to use the gym; he had a locker of clothes up there, even. However, he was suddenly hesitant to leave the floor without Steve.

'He's fine,' he reminded himself.

Steve wouldn't mind being woken up if Bucky needed him ...if he were upset.

'I'm not,' he attempted to convince himself. 'I'm fine, too...'

Still, to appease himself, he did a second check of the apartment.

All good.

Satisfied, he slunk onto the elevator to go upstairs. Because Steve didn't need a babysitter. Plus, Stark Tower had impeccable security.

Anyway, there was no known threat in the place.

Bucky couldn't help that he sometimes got an ominous feeling that someone was watching or coming.

It had been getting more tolerable. He could trust that he was safe most days, but the very real possibility that HYDRA was looking for him still wore on him and made him hyper-aware. He couldn't quite shake that vigilance, which likely contributed to some of his nightmares and flashbacks. He had gotten better in the few months since Steve had found him, but he wasn't free of the horrors of his past or the anxiety they caused, and he certainly wasn't free of confusion or bouts of deep anger.

He had, for the most part, improved in how quickly he came back to himself and remembered where and when he was. He could reason with himself more often, now. Progress seemed much too slow, but Steve promised he had been doing well.

'Some days...'

Upstairs, Bucky faltered when he stepped through the opening elevator doors. There was movement and noise- someone was there. Luckily his eyes found a source immediately before he could get upset.

A woman with a dangling, brown ponytail was on a treadmill. That was all well and fine- not like she was hurting anything- except that it was quite late and he hadn't considered the possibility of having any company. Though he didn't immediately consider her a threat, Bucky watched the woman closely while he moved through the gym. She was an unknown quantity, so she couldn't be entirely discounted. Not yet.

The woman didn't make a move to acknowledge him, which was all the better as far as he was concerned. She had cords trailing from his ears- headphones. They may be the reason she hadn't looked around.

So Bucky went about his own business, ears perked but otherwise ignoring her. He helped himself to a punching bag, one of the ones with a dense core and reinforced chains suspending it. The improvement was courtesy of Tony Stark who, like his father, was a huge nerd and therefore seemed to enjoy the challenge of adding super-power accommodations to his building. Bucky still needed to hold back with his bionic arm, but the bag generally kept well. Beating on it in a steady, strong rhythm was calming to him. He could stop his mind's spinning and slowly grew content while he exerted himself.

He only stopped and spun round when there was a beeping noise behind him that was unlike the regular pace of the woman's jogging, which he had grown used to. His movement must have caught her eye because she looked his way after she clicked-off the treadmill. She nodded, brown ponytail flicking, and that was the end of her notice of him as far as he could tell.

His shirt was sleeveless, leaving his arm on display since he had not expected to see anyone- normally he might have taken precautions to conceal it. She hadn't taken a second glance, however; it may as well not have been there. Which was ...a bit of a shock. He stood there and blinked a few times, surprised by how at-a-loss the gesture (or lack of one) made him feel.

Tony talked openly about his arm whenever the chance presented itself.

Steve continually told him not to think of it as a weapon.

Pepper had done her best not to look when he'd met her.

Maria made snarky 'Bicentennial Man' comments that he didn't really understand.

Sam has calmly talked with him about how some guys he knew form his VA days would love such a high-tech prosthetic.

This woman ...accepted it? Didn't care?

'Why would she?' Bucky rolled his eyes at himself.

He didn't completely pull himself back to task, though. He shuffled toward the weight bench along another wall, but before he could sit he caught sight of the quiet woman disappearing into the locker room ...through the wall.

But ...no.

That could not have been real.

He looked properly. She'd been ...and then she'd gone ...but she couldn't have walked through a wall.

Bucky jumped to his feet.

She couldn't have, and yet he had not noticed her veer to the right and continue down the hall. He should know; he was superb with details.

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

He thought he should storm across the room and barge into the locker room (he didn't care that it was a lady's room) and demand to know what tricks she was pulling ...but it may have just been him. He might have imagined it or seen the moment incorrectly...

But that wasn't something he normally did.

He could, though; it wasn't like his mind was always 100% reliable these days.

If this had happened when he had just arrived downstairs after his paranoid vigil in the apartment, he might have stormed in on the girl in suspicious anger. He had calmed some, though, and hurried silently to the elevator bay instead.

Before he committed to making a scene or threatening anyone, he would check-in with Steve. He had learned this tactic after pinning Natasha (or Natalia, as he remembered her) to a wall when she'd visited from Europe. If no one was in mortal danger: ask questions first. Incidentally, he still wasn't sure he trusted Natasha entirely, but Steve did so he was suspending his own judgements.

Because Steve was reliable and predictable ...he was safe.

Even so, he felt edgy as he quietly traversed Steve's apartment and sidled into his pal's doorway. He flicked on the light without preamble.

"Steve," he hissed.

He knew he didn't have to be too loud- Steve would wake easily.

It was a habit they shared.

Indeed, Steve sat up quickly, though he squinted against the room's light.

"Buck?"

"Uh-huh," he moved into the bedroom.

"S'goin on?"

"Tell me somethin' ...can people walk through walls now?"

"What?"

"Walls- c'mon. 'M I crazy or what?" he scowled and kicked at the foot of Steve's bed.

He really might be crazy. This would just be the nail in the coffin on that topic.

Surprisingly enough, Steve looked untroubled. He just dropped back against the mattress with a huff and scrubbed his hand through his hair.

"You meet Katie or something?"

"Who?"

"Where were you, anyway?" Steve mumbled.

"Gym. Why? Who's this?"

"Young, dark hair ...yay high?" he waved a hand around indiscriminately.

"Uh-huh."

"Katherine ...Katie. She works here for Tony," the other soldier recounted and rested his eyes closed again. "She's a mutant ...walks through stuff. She calls is phasing..."

Mutant.

Bucky knew what a mutant was, certainly.

Gifteds.

Inhumans.

Powered people.

HYDRA had used many such people, both voluntarily and ...others not so willingly. It had not bothered him as The Winter Soldier, had never occurred to him that what some Gifted Individuals could so should be special or shocking. They had simply served a purpose, then.

Now ...well, now it obviously hit the "What the Hell" button in his head.

"Oh," was his simple response. "So it's normal?"

"Normal? I dunno," Steve sighed. "Nothing's normal ...but she's alright, yeah. She helped Sam and I find you."

"She did? I don't remember that," Bucky frowned and rubbed uncomfortably at the back of his neck.

Making a last-ditch, panicked attempt to ditch Steve in Europe had been a whirlwind. Eventually, Steve and Sam had cornered him and talked him into coming with them to New York, but he only remembered those two being involved ...unless you counted the pilot of their jet.

"Well, we found you in Prague," Steve recalls, emphasizing the city to remind Bucky how far away he had been. "Katie traveled with us when we were in the States, but she stayed in contact by phone when we left Boston to track you in Europe after you raided that safe house in Belgium. She had commitments back here..."

"Okay..."

No reason to panic.

Nothing was wrong.

"You embarrass yourself?" Steve grinned lazily.

The thought of him doing something stupid in front of a girl was amusing to Steve. It probably wasn't fair- he wasn't the same old Bucky- but he couldn't help it.

"Didn't say nothin'," he shrugged.

"Could've at least said hello ... ...whattcha doin' up? You alright?"

"Sure."

"... ...wanna watch a movie from JARVIS' list?"

JARVIS had provided a list of the American Film Institute's must-see movies that the pair were slowly making their way through.

"Nah, sorry I woke you."

"Meet you out there in a sec..."

Bucky should feel bad when he turned around to go out to the living room, but ...he didn't. He was a little relieved. Maybe in the morning he would feel self-conscious, but for right now ...this was what friends were for.

Thoughts?!