Chapter Two

He Has to Try

Sam learned not to sneak around the tower or to yell things into the next room without knowing who exactly was in that room. He learned that the lost man was there to stay, for an undetermined amount of time. He also knew that the soldier wouldn't stay long just by taking one look at those eyes. With all his experience with PTSD patients, Sam knew when someone was broken beyond repair.

The question was, why was Steve even trying?

He had to know that the man was a lost case.

"Uh, Steve?"

"Yeah buddy?"

How should he put this… "When I said I would help you find your friend, I thought I was helping you find someone you knew." Sam shifted his weight under the glare that Steve was oblivious to. "That doesn't seem like the Bucky you talk about. I mean, are you just on a wild goose chase with this guy? Searching for something that might not ever be found?" Steve had turned away, leaning in the kitchen counter so Sam couldn't see if he was mad or not.

Steve held his head. "Score's two-two," he said faintly.

"Huh?"

"Pepper and Nat versus you and Tony."

"Widow actually thinks he can be turned around?"

"The people who support me versus the people who don't. And I know your thoughts on Nat. She doesn't really think he can be changed, but she still supports me." Steve turned around to look at his friend. "Do you support me with this?"

Sam just stared back. He couldn't imagine that man getting better. All he saw was another thing for Steve to blame on himself and another reason for him build up more walls than the ones he already had. Sam just didn't want to see Steve get hurt, to set out thinking he can help Bucky get back to normal and end up failing.

Steve turned back around to face Sam. "If you need an explanation, I can't tell you."

"Why not?" He didn't like the sound of that.

"It's..." Steve breathed in and out, his shoulders sinking. "I just can't," he said, looking away.

Sam raised and lowered his eyebrows. "Could you explain to anyone?"

Steve started fidgeting, moving his mouth a lot and rubbing his palms with his fingers. "I don't know. I can't imagine talking about it to anyone." He was rushing his words, trying to get it all out quickly so he didn't have to keep talking about it.

"You really can't tell me? I'm your friend, Steve. I only ever want to help you. That's kind of why we even became friends."

"You wouldn't understand." Steve said sternly and started to walk away.

"Wait, Steve. Just… Is it worth the price you're going to pay?" All Sam wanted to do was make sure Steve didn't get hurt. There aren't many nice guys in the world and the few that there are don't deserve to get hurt.

Steve looked back at Sam. "For him, I would do anything."

He could see it on all of their faces. They all wondered "Why is he even trying?" They all were thinking the same thing, that Bucky was lost, but no one wanted to tell him. They all thought that the Winter Soldier was him, that there was no Bucky left inside that mind. But they didn't understand. No one understood, not that anyone could. Their situation wasn't a very common one, after all.

Steve saw Bucky in that lost man. He could see that echo of a man, that almost-there, almost-surfaced version that no one but Steve knew. He had to try to get that man back to the surface. That man that he grew up with, fought with, that man he patched up each time he fought to protect Steve. They became the people they once were with each other. No one understood that connection, the frayed strands that attach one man to the other. Those frayed strands that were clouded under years of fog, layers upon layers of fog that built up by Bucky's memories being erased and by Steve being buried in ice.

That fog lifted once, when Steve told the lost man his name and promised him he was with him, until the end of their line. He would be with Bucky until those frayed strands slipped from each other.

But those strands had yet to slip. Steve would get Bucky back, regardless of how many times anyone thought "Why does he even try?"

"I still don't understand it." Tony was always the one to bring it up. "The guy's hopeless."

"Steve told me that I wouldn't understand. Made it feel like no one would."

"Do you get that feeling because maybe we're… Different?"

Three sets of eyes looked at her. "What do you mean, Pepper?"

"Well… Tony. Why do you try to get Extremis out of me, even though you know I'm stable?"

Tony didn't get where she was going with that. "Because I want to fix you. You're like this because of me."

Sam though he understood. "So you think he's just trying to fix his mistake?"

"No," Pepper waved her hand, dismissing Sam's conclusion, "I mean… Tony, why do you want to fix me? For what reason do you want me to be to get better?"

He cared for her. He hated seeing anything bad happen to her. He help only a few people close, and she was his number one. "Because I love yo-" Tony's voice stopped, but his lips pinched together to finish his word and to give an expression of realization.

Pepper held out her palms as the three experienced that same expression.

Most of his days went by with a lot of sitting, TV watching, and eating. Your basic freeloading.

"Aren't you bored? There isn't much to do around here." The blond guy would ask.

"I'm trained to act when told to. I don't get bored. I'm just on standby." Like a weapon.

He could see the blond give him a look and sit on the other side of the sofa, taking the remote from the center cushion that separated them.

"What's this?" The blond nodded to the TV.

He really wished the guy wouldn't try having a conversation with him. "A show."

"About what?"

He sighed, groaning in his head. "Alaska."

"Wanna go to the pictures?"

Apparently the blond couldn't get the hint.

"No one says that anymore."

"Says what?" This guy couldn't be this clueless…

"No one says "pictures" anymore. They say movies."

"But… they're pictures."

"They move." How old could he be.

The blond thought about it. "Fair point."

As much as he didn't want to keep talking to the guy, he was sure that the others were staying away from him, more so than normal. Not that he didn't like being left alone, but he was being avoided so the blond could engage in oh so riveting conversation with him. They were being avoided by everyone so there was more time for the blond to talk to him. "Where are the others?"

The blond was surprised at his sudden interest, not at all suspecting what he already knew. "Oh, I dunno. Weird. There's always someone around here." The lack of their presence never occurred to him? "Wait, where are you going?"

"To find them." Blondie didn't have to act like he was off to blow something up. "I like knowing where people are. They can't surprise me that way."

The blond followed him through the tower, the both of them getting looks when they ventured down into the "business" floors of the tower. Everyone knew of the Winter Soldier, especially the people of the tower. When they weren't looking at Steve to make sure it was fine that he was there, they looked at him, wondering why he was allowed downstairs.

"Uh, can I help you two?" A thick man asked. The balding man with facial hair had a constantly cautious look about him, holding up his arm slightly to stop them on their search. Not that an arm could really stop them, considering one of them had a weapon of an appendage. He looked at the thick man's name tag, raising an eyebrow at it. "That isn't a name. That's an emotion."

"Sorry to bother you, Happy. We're just looking for the others."

The thick man who shared a name with a false emotion lowered his arm and pressed a fat finger to his phone. "They're looking for you, Tony."

"The birds are up?"

He resented being called a bird. Birds are fragile and weak.

"Yeah. Want me to send them down?"

"You better, otherwise Soldier Boy'll tear the place apart like Bruce if he doesn't find what he wants."

He also resented being called Soldier Boy.

The thick man led them to an elevator and told the blond which floor to go to. He hated elevators. They don't have an easy way out. Steve noticed how Bucky fidgeted in the elevator, how he kept rubbing his nails together and shifting his weight from leg to leg. "Not a fan of elevators?" It was news to him. Steve looked over when he didn't get a response. He was staring at the doors and his face was unsettled, his eyebrows pulling together and relaxing randomly, his mouth fidgeting, and he was closing his eyes longer than the standard blink.

"Buck?" Steve made the mistake of putting his hand on Bucky's shoulder.

It happened faster than Steve could comprehend. Bucky had Steve up against the wall of the elevator, holding him up with the metal hand on Steve's collarbone with Bucky's thumb rammed into his throat, the flesh hand set just under Steve's jaw. By the force that Steve felt behind Bucky's grasp, it was probably good that the metal hand wasn't the one holding his neck. It wouldn't have been so gentle in comparison.

Steve couldn't move his head, but that didn't stop him from looking at Bucky. Panic. Fear. Like before, he was an animal acting on instinct, lashing out at anything that got too close. He realized then that he needed to be more cautious with Bucky, make his intentions clear before he did something. A little late to come to that conclusion.

The elevator dinged and opened. The people inside didn't get out.

Once Bucky's breathing calmed, though only slightly, Steve slowly raised his hand to the one under his jaw. He held his hand over Bucky's and could have sworn that he felt the hand on his neck loosen its grip, so lightly that he almost couldn't tell. Steve pressed the tips of his fingers to the back of Bucky's, using his thumb to peel Bucky's hand off of his throat.

He stood there with Bucky's overworked fingers held by his own. Steve pulled his head from the metal wall of the elevator, bringing it down and level with their fingers, breathing into the hand that he was holding. With that look that Bucky still had on his face, with a new confused twist to it, Steve had to make sure that he was grounded. Bring him back from wherever his mind was and to the current time. Away from the memories of his past, away from Hydra, and to the present. Hydra wasn't in the present and wouldn't be in their future.

Steve didn't notice that he had pulled Bucky's hand closer, those fingers barely touching the tips of his nose, his lips, his chin.

When the elevator dinged again and started closing, Bucky came back to the present and pulled his hand away, almost with a look of disgust, catching the doors before they closed and exiting in a rush.

Steve closed his eyes, wrapping his fingers around the air where Bucky's hand had been seconds before.

She should have been able to see it.

Not that she didn't eventually catch on, but she should have noticed it earlier. Like when Steve requested to have a lone red star on the left shoulder of his new uniform. Natasha caught it right after she saw that star in the same spot and the same size as the Winter Soldier. Steve explained that he wanted it to commemorate Bucky and would keep it until he found his friend. Natasha isn't an easy woman to fool.

Usually it's the women that pick up on the too-long glances and lingering movements. She did eventually see it, though it should have been sooner because of her reputation. If Steve was that good at hiding something that the Black Widow couldn't notice it right away, then for how long had he been hiding it?

"Steve? You know you can tell me anything, right? We're like best buds now." Natasha hid her real reason for talking behind her smile and light tone. She passed it off as normal conversation.

Steve looked up from his book with a smile to match hers. "Yeah, I know. What's this about?" He always had his suspicions with her.

Natasha looked down, her smile shrinking. "I just wanted to remind you."

Since it was Nat, Steve knew there was something more to her words. He tried to continue reading after she left, but found himself just looking at the words on the page instead of reading them.

It would take something short of a miracle for Tony to even begin accepting Bucky. No matter how many times they all told him that Bucky "wasn't himself" and "Hydra made him do it," Tony wasn't going to forgive the bastard. If given a reason to hate someone, he holds onto that reason for as long as he can, up until teaming up to save New York or being taught a lesson by his years-dead father changes his mind. Only something impressive can change Tony's mind. No half-assed efforts will persuade him of something. Until then, he would detest the Soldier.

Not even signs of affection would change Tony's mind, even if it was his best friend that felt that affection.

"I thought you were dead, Buck."

"I'm not Bucky. He is dead."

Tony almost walked in on their conversation. He knew from experience that it was a lot more beneficial to stay back and listen rather than walk in and scare Bucky and piss Steve off.

Bucky sounded fierce, though he had no intention to move Steve's hand on his forearm.

He sounded fierce, but he didn't fight back when Steve slid his hand from Bucky's forearm to Bucky's waist, his other arm sliding to wrap around the shorter man's shoulders. Steve made sure not to put excessive pressure on Bucky's bad shoulder.

Bucky put his arms around Steve, resting his chin on the taller man's shoulder. "I'm not Bucky." Even he didn't sound convinced.

"I know, I know," Steve replied reassuringly, lightly rubbing around the metal shoulder. "Does it hurt?"

He was used to telling the doctors that he was fine so they would just stop trying to make it "better." He had almost said "No," however, there was something different from what he had always experienced. It wasn't Hydra asking him even when they could give less than two shits about if his shoulder hurt or not.

"Always."

Bucky let Steve rest his head on the metal shoulder, the weight actually pleasant and definitely not what he expected.

"I wish I could do more to-" Steve was cut off by Bucky shoving him away. He watched Bucky flee the room and looked on in surprise, listening to the sound of his feet hitting the floors as he ran.

Steve didn't understand.

What happened?

He looked around for anything that could have set Bucky off. He wasn't surprised at all when he saw Tony. "What the hell did you do," he stated more than asked.

"I guess he just doesn't like me." Tony was barely visible from behind the corner.

Steve walked past him, hearing "The feeling's mutual" from the irritating man.

Natasha was in Steve's path, instantly knowing the look on his face. "What happened?"

"He went running off. Help me find him."

They searched the whole tower. There couldn't have been a place where Bucky could have gone. It was obvious to them that he left.

"Dammit, Tony." Steve threw his hand down, then ran his fingers in his hair. "Why do you always have to do stuff like this?"

"Like what?" Tony challenged.

"Scare him off! We're trying to keep him here, not give him a reason to run away."

"It isn't the first time it's happened. He'll stay. He knows this is better than Hydra, so just calm down."

Don't people know not to tell an angry person to calm down?

"He didn't leave the tower before. There's a big difference here." Could he just stop acting like it wasn't his fault and own up to something for once?

"Well it's not like anyone wants him here anyways." Tony raised his eyebrow at Steve. "I don't know what's going on between you two, but-"

"I'm the only one that can rein him in, that can calm him down. All you see is a murdering psychopath. You can't see the flickers of the old Bucky that I can see because you don't know the old Bucky. No one can see the Bucky that I know," Steve threw his hand to his chest, "The Bucky that I-" He stopped himself with a shocked face. Steve put his hand down and looked to the side, his jaw jutted out.

Tony scoffed. "The Bucky you what?"

Steve turned away, speaking lower, like he shouldn't have said anything, "You wouldn't understand."

Sam and Nat looked at each other like they already knew.

Steve changed the course of his words. "I spent the whole time since I woke up from the ice thinking that he was dead because of me. I felt guilty for letting him fall, and I still do. I couldn't help him. I couldn't save him the one time he needed me. And Hydra got a hold of him. No one gets it…" Steve sat down, slumping into the chair, "It's my fault that he's like this. I'm not just gonna give up on him, like how he wouldn't give up on me when we're both in danger. I can't. I can't… I cannot give up on him. I can help him now. I can't let him fall again."

The Soldier stood, doing what he does best: remaining in the shadows, listening, trying to decide that course of action to take next.

"It isn't your fault-"

"I was the only one that could've helped him and I didn't. If no one else can be at fault, then why isn't it mine?"

But this time, the Soldier didn't have orders. He had his mission, but he couldn't finish it.

He didn't know what to do next.

He didn't know, so he did what he never does. He stepped out of the shadows. All eyes went to him, but he only cared about one pair.

Turns out, Bucky never left the tower. He went to the roof, trying out some of Tony's booze, though he already knew it wouldn't help.

He looked exhausted, more so than usual. His eyes were puffy and slow, looking like they didn't want to keep opening. He was chauffeured off to someone's old room, not caring who they told him it had belonged to.

Steve liked the room for Darcy because it was all the way across the entire floor, but if Bucky was going to sleep there, it was all the way across the entire floor. Steve reluctantly guided Bucky to his new bedroom with one hand on his shoulder blade. It was minimally decorated and the bedding was black, since it seemed Bucky liked the color. Steve tried talking to Bucky and failed to get a response, awkwardly turning around and leaving. Steve told him "Good night" before he left.

For the first time since Bucky came to the tower, Steve slept in his own bed.

He was disappointed more than confused when he discovered that his pillows didn't have a foreign, Bucky smell to them.

He knew for a fact that Bucky went through his things, but nothing looked out of place. The bedding was the same way as when he made it and his desk looked normal. It was like Bucky was never there to begin with. That thought scared Steve.

For once, the biggest threat to the amount of sleep that the residents of the tower received wasn't insomnia from nightmares or panic attacks. Out of the ordinary, they were sleeping rather well.

But the sea is calmest just before the storm.

Steve heard it first. The screams. Those screams were nothing new to the tower. Everyone seemed to have a reason to be afraid of their dreams.

Yet, no one had ever screamed Steve's name like it was their last hope at escaping their nightmare, their hell. No one screamed for Steve, calling out for him to come save them from their torture, calling out like it wasn't their first time pleading for Steve to rescue them. The screams woke him, goosebumps chilling his entire body.

Once he realized that it wasn't part of the norm for the tower, Steve took off across the floor, hitting his foot when he swung his door open but not caring.

The others were just waking up by the time that Steve threw Bucky's door open and saw him on the floor, tangled in his own bedding and trapped like a fish in a net. By the way the lamps were knocked off of their night stands and the way the bed was moved over a good five feet, Steve knew that whatever was going on inside Bucky's head wasn't good.

It took Steve so long to process everything that happened, the mess of lamps and blankets, the mess of the man trapped, the sounds that were coming out of the room. By the time he could even begin to try to think about what to do next, everyone had already made it to Bucky's room and were trying to decipher the situation for themselves.

"Buck." The room smelled of sweat and tears in a combination that Steve knew was the smell of fear, like rain and salt. Whatever he was saying was coming out in Russian.

The look on Natasha's face was genuine.

Tony quickly told JARVIS to record and translate whatever Bucky was screaming and relay his words into text. Sam and Pepper read over Tony's shoulder, their faces breaking and Pepper having to look away.

Steve lowered himself next to Bucky, who was still thrashing and trying to escape. He could feel the fear, the heat that was coming off of Bucky. He grabbed at whatever blankets that he could and tried prying them off, stopping only when he was punched in the jaw and kicked in the chest.

Bucky stopped screaming. Instead, he was crying, his voice hoarse when he continued to mutter things in Russian. He stopped thrashing, then started jerking his limbs around every few seconds.

"Buck-" Steve's voice cracked from all the pressure built up in his chest and behind his eyes. He didn't want to try to talk again for he feared that he wouldn't be able to keep hold of his emotions. So Steve pulled Bucky to him and held him for as long as he could before he was shoved back by the petrified soldier.

Once he realized who it had been that held him, Bucky's eyes turned from big and fearful to lidded and tear filled, his eyebrows from raised to pulled together, his mouth from an upturned lip to taut and quivering.

"Steve-" the absolutely broken man had to whisper. His raw voice couldn't handle anything more.

Steve pulled Bucky to him again, this time meeting the other man half way, those shaking arms reaching out for Steve. "What's wrong with me?" Bucky asked, a sob overcoming his words, his head going to Steve's neck.

The anguish in Bucky's voice and the way his grip tightened on Steve's shirt made it hard for him to answer. "Nothing that can't be helped." He couldn't even try to hide his shaky voice.

Steve looked at the others, completely lost in what to do next.

After everyone else went back to bed, Steve managed to get Bucky back into bed and just held him. He had to keep Bucky together, had to make sure he didn't fall apart right there in his arms.

He held on tightly and didn't let go.

He didn't allow himself to let Bucky go.

Not again.

Not ever again.