Chapter 4

Coffee.

His torrent thoughts kept on repeating the same word like a broken record turning on the spindle in his mind, and his heavy-lidded eyes narrowed on the floor as he shuffled numbly down the hall. He was trying not to look intimidating, even though his face was shroud by darkness, and feral, pale blue eyes burned like sapphire underneath strands of long hair. He tried to look approachable, but it also didn't help he wore black and heavy combat boots. His five-eleven stature reeked hostile retribution, raw power and untamed urges to kill. He felt like a lone, scowling wolf trapped inside a flock of sheep.

Hell, even when the Soldier numbly passed nurses, they gingerly parted from his purposeful stride. He never paid attention, or read people's expressions, but when he spared a glance at a few people waiting in line in the hospitals main cafeteria, all he saw welled in their suspicious eyes was fear and judgment. His brain warred over the conflicting thoughts as he stood stoic , awkwardly in front of glass counter displaying glazed donuts, fruit bowls, muffins and yogurt cups.

'Do I even like coffee?' he questioned silently, glancing at the display board on the back wall. He stuffed his metal hand in the pocket of his jeans, and removed out a tattered wallet, while training his eyes on two electronic coffee pots brewing fresh grounded coffee, while a young woman, brunette, was crouched down placing another tray of muffins in the case. Grabbing her attention, he cleared his throat, nearly startling her as she jumped up and stared at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to sound gentle as his low baritone carried through the air. "I would like to large black coffees." He said, almost he was giving her an order for a mission. "I'm not sure what most people put in their coffees?"

"Cream and sugar." she answered him, grabbing two plastic cups from a stack, and carefully but efficiently pouring the smoldering coffee into each cup. "You're visiting a friend?" she asked, sounding friendly. "Every visitor comes here to get a coffee. I think caffeine relaxes the body when they're facing stress and worry about their loved ones."

'Is Steve Rogers my friend?' The Soldier asked himself, shifting his blue eyes over empty tables. His heart began to drum in his chest, and brows furrowed with lines of confusion.

The brunette moved back to the counter, and leveled her almond shaped eyes with him, and he stared intently at the color of seawater swirling in her irises. It had been a long time since he gazed into warmth, human people without coldness and hatred. She gave him the total amount, and he paid with cash, and walked away from the counter without sharing another word to her. He lifted the rim of the cup to his mouth, his upper lip quivered as he inhaled the steam, and after taking a sip, he discovered that he did enjoy the taste of coffee.

After a long moment of standing stoically outside the door frame, he slowly walked over to the corner of the white painted room-cringing inwardly at the EKG machine, IV drip lodged into Steve's wrist and visual reminders of his raw brutality he unleashed on the golden haired man's face a few days back, when he followed orders without reason, guilt and humanity. He stumbled on his boots, lightly cursing as coffee managed to spill into little puddles on the floor. He allowed his clear blue, disquieted eyes to drift over the bed as sound of dismay ragged from the depths of his raw throat as stale heat scraped over his lungs.

"Steve is going to beat this," he blew out a sparse whisper, curling his fingers into fists as his nails dug into the soft flesh of his right palm. "He's a fighter..." He reminded himself, angst tensed over his gleaming forehead. "He never backed away from a fight. He was too stupid."

He halted his strides at the foot of a bed-narrowing his misty eyes down at the massive, bulky and stubborn punk he once cherished greatly as his best friend, Steven Grant Rogers, smile dolefully at his darkened presence.

With a small shiver, the Soldier inched closer to Steve, standing ridgy near the mattress. Steve had become three shades whiter-almost ashen and so frail in the face since the last time he really took a moment to rake his eyes over his anemic friend, his collar bone bruised, rib bones covered with gauze under his thin hospital gown and his sharp cheekbones stained with dried smears of blood. Steve lifted his head slowly, meeting the Soldier's firm gaze with his serious blue eyes—shimmering with crescents of burning defiance.

"Hey," He said, his voice uneven and cracked, bespoke with exhaustion. He sat in chair next to the bed side, looking directly at Steve with his steady blue eyes. He extended out his metal hand, and handed Steve the coffee. "I wasn't sure.." He swallowed in mid-sentence. "I couldn't remember if you liked it plain or sweet?"

Steve remained silent, he narrowed his eyes at the coffee in his hands.

"How are you feeling?" the Soldier asked, biting his tongue as the distinct corners of his mouth altered into a frown. "Wait, that was a stupid question to ask." He pressed his lips tightly, narrowing his head, a sinking despair began growing in his gut. "I know you want be to be this Bucky Barnes again, Steve, it's so hard to remember who I used to be..." he avowed.

"Yeah, but I know who you are, Buck." Steve answered in a nonchalant tone, his voice quiet and weak. He glared up at at his friend with his stern blue eyes. He placed his hand gently over other man's metal wrist. "You will remember everything...I will help you..no matter how long it takes. I promise you that, Buck."

"Why do you want to help me?" He asked softly, he felt tears prick in his eyes. "I'm not someone that you should help, I know that I'm dangerous..." he ceased his words and acutely listened to the muffled sounds of Steve's labored breathing echoing in his ears—he grimaced as the chiseled lines of his broad cheeks and jaw tightened; his own eyes hinting a fever and face flushed. "I want to have a name again..." He took a deep breath, watching Steve's chest rise and fall. He leaned over, reached out and placed his hand firmly on the blonde haired 'super-soldier's broad shoulder. "I don't want to be a ghost anymore, Steve."

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, "Buck?" he didn't query in disbelief, instead he peered seriously into his lifelong friend's fixed gaze— his glittering blue eyes morphed into the color of bluish-gray alloy caress of the morning sunlight. "I need you to trust me.." He closed his eyes momentary, and drew out a deep, cleaning breath. "I need you to believe that I will help you find yourself again."

"How can you help me?" The Soldier respired sharply to Steve, trying to hide the tears glimmering in his dreary blue eyes at they wondered throughout the room, the viranuim shield leaned against the metal frame of the frame seized his attention, the metallic colors of red and silver gleamed under the light as it cast over floor and over the bed. The shield became a symbol of r memory as recognition veiled over his face. "I remember this..." He said with a dim undertone, and moved to the end of the bed, and lifted up the shield close to his chest. His metal fingers absently run over the smooth engravings, as he stared down at the star in the center. "You used to make the Germans yield when you threw it." He smiled fondly, and lowered the shield back down. His hands tucked solemnly as he began to walk over to the window. "At first I thought it was a stupid weapon to use in the front lines, but you proved me wrong." He hung his head down.

Steve observed the crestfallen expression on his friend's face and looked back at the shield. He heaved out a disgruntled sigh and looked at the sadness masking over Bucky's unbalanced azure eyes. He gritted his teeth and sat back against the pillows and set his jaw hard. "You were the one that pulled me out of Potomac River...It was you?"

"It doesn't matter." the Soldier dejected, and stifled his lips into a firm grimace. He felt a small seed of remorse plant itself in the layers of his heart, burning resentfully as he looked at Steve serene face. "A soldier never leaves a fallen man behind." he breathed out a sharp exhale, and bit into his lower lip. "I couldn't watch you drown...You're a good man. That's not how good men die." he revealed, his voice troubled and frayed.

Steve felt the icy, condemning guilt pierce through his own heart, and his stomach twisted into knots making the bile slosh against his insides. He felt sick. He lifted a hand up from the mattress and gestured the Russian assent to advance closer, just for a second he saw the familiar gleam in his blue eyes, but it dissolved as darkness of malice cloaked over his ruddy and unshaven cheeks. "You're a good man, Buck." he wheezed out, feeling his tongue become thick as cotton. His words muffled, but true. "You've always been a good man. No matter what they've done to you." He dropped his gaze, and pressed his lips tight. "I know you have the serum in you, Bucky. The enhance speed, strength and agility...You need to know that it was created to make good men great in this world and bad men worse. I think in time you will understand the truth and use it like I did."

A tear slipped down the Soldier's jaw and he feels the world spiraling around him. "You were meant for great things, Buck. But you got lost, and I stopped myself from trying to find you because I thought you died..."

"It's not your fault." He finally stammered out, the words clogging against his throat. "I'm sure if Bucky was found...He would say the same thing, Steve."

Steve sighed, and gave him a watery smile. " I think I just found him." He whispered, and watched a small ghost of smile grace over the other man's neutral lips. He felt a warm, searing hope enter his broken heart before he faintly closed his eyelids shut and drifted into a peaceful slumber with the presence of his friend watching over him.