3

Steve lived in a small apartment in New York that he had gotten with Peggy Carter after the war. Steve had never been able to get into the war, and although a few years had passed, he still felt resentful sometimes. Especially since his best friend had gone and died there and there was nothing Steve could have done.

They drove to the apartment in the dark and Bucky ducked under the window the whole way.

"Who are you," Bucky said for the third time that night. Once they'd arrived at the apartment, he'd hid himself from all windows by sitting in a far corner. Steve didn't know what to do for him, so he'd given him a blanket and Bucky took it and wrapped it around his shoulders, tied himself up in it tightly. He was staring warily at Steve and hugging his arms around his knees. Steve, cross-legged across the floor a few feet away, leaned over on his elbows and sighed.

"Steve Rogers," he replied for the third time. "Steven Grant Rogers. I'm your best friend."

"Why don't I remember you?" Bucky asked and Steve swallowed.

Why don't you remember our last thirty minutes of conversation? He wondered.

"I don't know," he replied tiredly.

They would have this conversation more times throughout the night, and Bucky would cover his face or grip his head afterwards and groan, in obvious pain, but Steve didn't know what was happening or how to help him. Then, finally, Bucky said something different.

"Who am I?" He asked and Steve looked at him.

"Bucky Barnes," Steve replied. "James Buchanan Barnes. My best friend."

"Why do I kill so many people?" He said and Steve felt a chill run down his spine. His stomach turned.

"Um," he said, suddenly at a loss. "Um, well, you were a soldier." He watched Bucky's eyes shift downwards and he tightened his blanket around himself.

"Did I want to be a soldier?" He asked. Steve didn't know what to say.

"You don't have to do it anymore, Buck," Steve said back. "I have you now, they can't make you do anything else." Bucky stared at the ground.

"Okay," he said.

Maybe thirty minutes later, Steve spoke. Exhaustion was consuming him. He felt like he could drop dead any minute. Peggy's voice rang in his head to rest.

"I'm not feeling well," he admitted. "I, uh, need to sleep." Bucky looked up and stared at him with his eyes empty and Steve realized he didn't know how to read him anymore. He didn't know what was left of Bucky in this man who didn't know his own name. "You need to stay in this apartment, okay? Don't go anywhere?"

"You can't sleep in front of me," Bucky said quietly, as though he were confused and Steve blinked.

"Huh, why not?" He asked.

"I could kill you," Bucky whispered back. "I could kill you with my bare hands. You can't sleep in front of me." Again, Steve was speechless. What was he supposed to say to that?

"I trust you, Buck," he replied. "Best friends, remember?"

"Sleeping people are vulnerable," Bucky said.

"Well, best friendship lesson one," Steve said as he pulled himself to his feet and made his way over to the door across the room. "Friends are vulnerable," he said. "Together. That's part of the point." Once he reached the door, he pulled it open and turned back towards Bucky. "Well, do you want to come lay down or are you going to sit on the floor all night?"

Steve watched Bucky pull himself to his feet slowly and follow Steve cautiously. Steve let him in and changed into pajamas. The whole time, Bucky stood by the door and stared at the floor. Steve, mid-way through pulling his pants up, glanced up at Bucky and studied his face. There were lines there that he didn't remember, and a heaviness. He stopped and stared until Bucky's eyes flickered up and met his and Steve looked away again. He finished pulling on his pajamas.

"You just seem," he started and then stopped himself, realizing he didn't know how to go on. Bucky was staring at him now. Steve turned his back and pushed his hair back with both hands. "Nothing," he finished. "You seem tired, that's all."

Steve offered Bucky clothes to borrow to sleep in, but Bucky refused.

"What, you're going to sleep in that?" Steve asked, gesturing to his thick pants and heavy black jacket. Bucky chewed on his bottom lip and nodded. Steve didn't know what to think. He didn't know how to respond or what to say. He was Bucky, but he also… Well, he also almost wasn't. Steve didn't know what to do. What's the protocol for finding out your long-dead best friend is alive and has forgotten everything and is now an assassin sent to kill the director of SHIELD? Steve felt like he was watching himself from outside. He did everything mechanically, make dinner, put on pajamas, go to bed, as though Bucky wasn't standing behind him like a shadow, tense like a scared rabbit, and miraculously alive. Steve thought he was maybe in shock.

Steve laid down on one side of the bed, pulling up the sheets, and motioned for Bucky to take the other side. Stiffly, Bucky followed his direction and sat down on the other side of the bed.

"You've got to take your boots off," Steve said quietly and after a second, Bucky leaned down and undid his shoelaces. He pulled off the boots and swung his legs up onto the bed. Steve watched him and felt a lump grow in his throat. His vision was blurring. "Buck," he said quietly and Bucky looked over. His eyes had looked like that all night-scared and red-ringed and wide. Deer in the headlights kind of stunned. The lump grew and he choked a little. "I've missed you so much," he whispered and Bucky only stared. Steve scooted over slowly and Bucky tensed a little, but let him get closer. Steve knew Bucky might jump if he touched him, but he couldn't stop himself and he grabbed him and gripped him as hard as he could. Bucky tensed and shuddered, but Steve didn't let go and after a few seconds, Bucky relaxed. He didn't move his arms to put them around Steve. Steve squeezed him and he felt tears fall, as hard as he had tried to stop them.

After a minute, Steve pulled away and wiped off his face. He scooted back over to his side of the bed and grabbed up the covers and threw them over himself, turning his body away from Bucky and he reached up and pulled the string on the lamp next to the bed. The darkness fell over them. Bucky was still sitting upright on the other side of the bed.

"I won't kill you," Bucky said after a few seconds and Steve pressed his tired face into his pillow. Tears were threatening again.

"I know," he said and took a minute to pull himself together. He bit the inside of his cheek hard. No tears, no tears! Cut it out!

"You won't go anywhere either, right?" Steve added once he'd gotten ahold of himself. Bucky didn't answer and Steve opened his eyes and looked over and saw Bucky staring at him. "Right?" Steve asked again and Bucky looked down.

"I won't," he said.

After a few minutes, Steve felt the bed move as Bucky laid himself down carefully. He couldn't sleep, his mind was so filled with thoughts and emotions, and he was scared that if he went to sleep, he'd wake up and find that Bucky had been a dream, but eventually his exhaustion got the better of him and he fell into an anxious sleep. A few times during the night, he woke in a haze and whirled around to make sure Bucky was still there and every time, he was.