I don't know how long I sat there, thoughts running through my head too fast for me to catch them. The darkness behind my hands was comforting and I didn't look up until I heard the door open behind me. I turned, blinking to clear the dark spots from my eyes, and I gaped as his face came into focus. He'd shaved. It made him look so much younger, and as his eyes met mine, I caught a glimpse of the man in the pictures beside Steve Rogers. He crept round the sofa to stand above me, shuffling his feet. He was wearing David's clothes, and his hands were deep in the pockets. I jerked my head sideways, and he sat down cautiously, watching me as I considered him.
"How did you know what floor I live on?"
"I followed you the first day after we met," he replied, totally unabashed. I stared at him.
"That's really creepy," I said, stuck between indignation and amusement. His face twitched and his shoulders relaxed a little as I shook my head and sobered. "You know what Sam told me?" His jaw tightened and he gave a jerk somewhere between a nod and a shrug. "You're Bucky Barnes?" Looking away from me, he stared at the blank wall, his expression blank.
"I think so."
"And the Winter Soldier?" He nodded, but didn't look at me. My eyes traced down his left arm. I wanted to ask to see it, but bit my tongue. "Bucky, please, talk to me." He rubbed his eyes with his right hand and gave me a hopeless look.
"I don't know how," he said. He looked so lost.
"What's the first thing you can remember?" I asked him. "Your first memory." He looked away again, back towards the wall.
"I don't know. I've just got flashes, but I can't place them."
"Anything from your childhood? School?" He frowned at the wall.
"I can remember a group of children, but I don't know if it's from a school."
"Are they your friends?"
"No." His reply came fast, and vehemently. "They're doing something... or were going to... I had to stop them." My eyes narrowed slightly as I considered him.
"Why? What were they doing?"
"I don't know!" he said, growling a little in his frustration. "Something... bad. Wrong. It made me angry." I hid my triumph. He could still connect emotions to the memories. That, in my mind at least, was a good sign. It was when the veterans remembered traumas as nothing more than images that I got worried.
"What the first thing you remember clearly?" I asked. His face was still as he thought.
"I was on a... an aircraft? No. It was big, and it was flying... A... A helicarrier?" He looked round at me in askance and I nodded, though my stomach felt leaden. I'd seen the shaky footage of the three Insight heli-carriers crashing down into the Potomac. "I was fighting him. He... he was attacking someone. And I couldn't stop him. But I tried." His eyes snapped to mine. "I tried!" I nodded silently, and he sighed. "I made him stop eventually, but he fell. He fell into the water." He swallowed, closing his eyes for a second before continuing. "So I, I went after him. Pulled him out. I made sure he was breathing, then I..." He sighed. "I left." I narrowed my eyes.
"Why did you leave?" He grimaced slightly.
"I... I couldn't stay," he said. "I couldn't face him. Not then."
"Who is he?"
"Steve," he whispered. I gave him twenty seconds of silence.
"And after that?" He shook his head.
"I hid. I knew he would look for me. They'd taught him how to hide," he grimaced as I fought not to frown. "I used it." He muttered.
"What about Sam?" I asked. He looked round at me, frowning.
"Who?" I frowned back.
"My boss. The guy at the VA today." Bucky's face twitched.
"Oh." I waited.
"He was... I don't know. He recognised him."
"He?" I asked, but Bucky shook his head violently and I backed off, considering him. But even as I opened my mouth, my phone rang. Bucky jumped at the sudden sound as I pulled it out. It was Sam. Speak of the devil. I thought wryly, as I glanced back up at Bucky. He was staring at the name on the screen with a mixture of wariness and suspicion. With an internal sigh, I took and call and put it on speaker.
"Sam?"
"Hey Beth."
"Listen..." I said, before he could continue. "I'm sorry about earlier, going off on you like that. It's just..." I sighed, "I don't even know what to think right now."
"Don't worry about that. I just wanted to make sure you're okay... are you okay?"
"Yeah. I guess." He seemed to understand, and I tried to ignore the stab of guilt in my chest.
"Where are you?"
"I'm back at my place," I told him, without looking up at Bucky.
"Okay, just... just be careful." I gave a tight smile at his words.
"I always am."
"And Beth... if you see him again, call me." I hesitated, looking up at Bucky. "Elizabeth? Promise me." I closed my eyes.
"I promise that if I find him, I will call you."
"Good girl. I've got to go."
"Okay, I... bye Sam." I hung up, and met Bucky's blue eyes.
"You promised," he said tightly as I put my phone back in my pocket.
"I promised that I would call him if I find you. I've already found you. I hope I'm not going to have to do it again," I said, a mock severity to my tone. His mouth twitched, ever so slightly before his eyes moved past me, staring out the window. I turned, sitting back on the sofa as I followed his line of sight. The sun was sinking. I hadn't realised it was that late. Frowning, I tried to account for the loss of time, but my thoughts slipped away as I stared silently out of the window, looking at nothing, thinking of nothing.
It took several minutes of silence before I looked back round at Bucky. His eyes had shifted from the window to a blank space of wall, and his face was eerily blank as he gazed straight ahead.
"Bucky?" He made a small noise, but otherwise, didn't respond. "Bucky, what do you want?" His head whipped round and his blue eyes locked on mine.
"What?"
"What do you want?" I repeated. "Where do you want your life to end up? How long are you going to keep running? How long can you?" He gazed morosely at me.
"I don't know." He said. "I don't know how to stop running. I can't just live a normal life after everything... everything that was done..." He looked away.
"What makes you happy?" He looked back at me, and I dropped my gaze under his deadened expression, swallowing back my remorse. A slightly painful silence fell. Without looking at Bucky, I stood up and stretched, glancing at the clock before moving over to the kitchen. Carefully keeping my back to the room, I moved along the cupboards. It didn't take long.
"What are you doing?" he asked, and I jumped on hearing his voice right behind me. I hadn't heard him get up from the sofa.
"Cooking," I replied, then paused with my hand in the bag of pasta. "You're not allergic to anything, are you?" I looked round in time to see him shake his head with a bemused expression.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to give you something you can't eat?" I glanced round as he rolled his eyes and had to look away quickly to hide my grin.
"That's not..."
"Why am I cooking?" I scoffed. "Because it's getting late. Because I'm hungry." I turned fully at last and pointed a spoon accusingly at him. "And because I've never seen you eat anything." He stared at me, apparently stunned, and a dreadful thought crept through my mind. "You do eat, don't you?" He nodded, still looking bewildered, and I relaxed a little as I turned to fill up the kettle, then crouched to examine the contents of my fridge. "Broccoli or carrots?"
"... I don't mind." I could hear the shrug in his tone seeing it. Scowling at a block of cheese, I tried again.
"How are you going to make big decisions when you can't make little ones? First answer that pops into your head; Broccoli or carrots?"
"Broccoli." The word comes fast and sure, and I smiled as I extracted the green head and put it on a board.
"Much better," I said, my fingers dancing over my knives. "Keep going, first answer. Dogs or cats?"
"Dogs."
"Too hot or too cold."
"Too cold. Oh." The kettle flicked off, but I ignored it, twisting round to examine his startled face.
"Oh, indeed. I thought you were frozen for 70-odd years?" He nodded silently, looking down. My eyes flickered downwards too, and rested on his hands, which were gripping the counter. The left one was gloved. I turned away, quashing once again the insane desire to ask to see it. I couldn't see that going well. Instead, I grabbed the kettle and poured boiling water over the pasta as I search for another question to ask him. Or anything to occupy my thoughts, other than that arm.
"What's your favourite colour?"
"Green."
"Really?"
"Apparently." I laughed, but he shook his head. "I don't know where I'm getting this from."
"That's the point," I said gently. "It doesn't matter where it's coming from. It's you. Isn't that enough?" He looked away, his jaw clenched. I stood perfectly still, eyes narrowed as I watched him. "Are you having an internal debate right now as to whether green is the favourite colour of Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier?" I asked. He didn't reply, and the silence was answer enough. I shook my head and moved to stand right in front of him. "Listen to me. You're not one or the other. You don't even have to be either." But his gaze was hopeless as it locked on mine.
"But Steve..."
"Steve will have to deal with it," I told him firmly.
"Everyone's going to look at me and see a monster." I crossed my arms and frowned, but I didn't want to lie to him.
"Maybe. Until you show them something different. But all I see is someone who prefers broccoli over carrots, and managed to make Joey speak more than I've ever seen him do so before." Bucky's expression relaxed a little, and he offered me a weak smile. I returned it, then went back over starting to cut up the broccoli.
"Do you want some help?" Bucky asked after a moment. I smirked without looking round.
"I'm fine." Not that I doubt your skills with a blade. I quashed the thought before it could slip out, shaking my head as I kept my eyes on the knife in my hand. We were both quiet as I moved around the kitchen, adding the broccoli to the saucepan before getting a tub of garlic and herb cream cheese from the fridge and putting some bowls to warm up. Occasionally I would glance over at Bucky, but he was lost in his own thoughts, and I left him to them. Only when I had returned the pasta to the saucepan with the cream cheese did his eyes snap up again, and continue following me around. I let the silence remain until I'd slid a filled bowl in front of him with a fork, and we'd begun to eat.
"What are you thinking?" I asked him. He didn't answer right away.
"I'm thinking that this is really good," he said. I didn't bother replying, and he sighed. "I don't want to run forever," he said quietly, and I felt a flare of triumph that I kept a long way from my face.
"But..." I prompted him.
"But I don't know how to stop," he admitted. I had to take another mouthful of pasta then, to stop myself speaking. This had to be his decision. He pushed his food around for another minute, then sighed and looked up at me. "Steve." I held his gaze, waiting, waiting... "I've got to see him, haven't I?"
"Only if it's what you want." I said gently. He closed his eyes for a second.
"I don't know what I want. I'm not even sure how to want," he said after a second. "But I need to do this." I nodded and returned to my food, and he followed suit. We finished eating, and I persuaded Bucky to have a second portion while I polished off my first. He helped carry the bowls over to the side and wiped them dry after I'd washed them. Then, I faced him, very serious as I pulled out my phone.
"Are you sure?" I asked him, and he nodded, though his jaw was clenched, and his eyes were wide. I dialled Sam's number and put it on speaker again. It rang several times, the sound echoing around the kitchen, before he picked up.
"Hello?"
"Sam. It's Beth." He was silent. He knew. "Look, I..." I sighed. "Is Steve with you?"
"Yeah, he's here." I took a breath, then rattled off my address. Sam paused for a moment.
"We'll be there in 15," he said. Bucky's face paled, but he didn't move.
"Put him on." I said wearily. There was a moment's pause. Then...
"I'm here." Bucky went stiff at the sound of his voice, though it was unfamiliar to me.
"What was Bucky's favourite colour?" I asked. There was a moment of stillness on both ends.
"Green," he said. Bucky clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes closed, his whole body trembling. I hung up as he dropped to his knees. Putting my phone away, I dropped down beside him as he swayed.
"Hey," I said gently, "it's okay." I reached out slowly and touched his arm gently. His eyes opened and they were glittering.
"I was right," he whispered through his fingers. "I was right."
"Oh, Bucky," I said gently. "Come on." I pulled him to his feet and drew him over to the sofa. He was still shaking. Almost on instinct, I wrapped my left arm around his shoulder, and after a second, he leaned into the contact. Rubbing his back, I closed my eyes and felt the tremors slowly leave him. But even after he'd stilled, he didn't pull away, so we remained huddled together, waiting.
.
At the sound of footsteps just outside the door, we both looked up. Someone knocked softly.
"Oh god," Bucky breathed. "I can't... I can't..." I slipped away from him.
"Yes you can," I said firmly, and went over to the door. With a single glance back at him, I flicked the lock across, and pulled it open. Two men stood there. Sam was slightly to the back, almost hidden behind a face that I recognised from the pictures, though I'd never seen him before. I didn't say a word, but stepped back out of the way. Steve Rogers strode into the room, but froze as he saw Bucky on the sofa, just as immobile. Sam stepped in behind him, and I closed the door before walking across the silent room and standing by the end of the sofa, looking between the three men.
"Bucky?" Steve's voice wavered slightly. Bucky climbed to his feet slowly and took a hesitant step forwards. To his credit, Steve didn't move, but remained in place.
"I know you." Bucky's voice was low and fierce. Almost defiant. Steve swallowed, and nodded. They were both staring hungrily, drinking in the sight of the other one. I retreated, turning away and humming to myself to give them a little more privacy. They didn't need an audience for this. Sam joined me in seconds, and together we tried not to listen to the hesitant words behind our backs.
"You promised that you'd call me," Sam said. I glanced sideways.
"I did." He scowled.
"When you found him."
"I'd already found him." He shook his head.
"You're a real idiot sometimes," he scoffed, but I grinned, and a glance over my shoulder was all I needed to believe that I'd done the right thing.
"Yeah. I know." I threw Sam a sideways look. "So are you ready to tell me why you have Captain America on speed dial?" He grimaced, but had opened his mouth when another voice interrupted us.
"Sam." We both started and turned round. Bucky and Steve stood shoulder-to-shoulder, facing us. "We need to go." Sam nodded at once, and moved over to the door. Bucky hung back, his eyes on me. I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
"You'll be fine." I stuck out my hand and he came forwards to grasp it.
"Thank you," he said, his eyes very serious. "For everything." Part of me wanted to hug him, but I didn't, taking a step backwards instead and handing him a small scrap of paper with ten digits written on it.
"If you ever want to talk," I said, and he smiled as he looked up from my phone number. As always, the expression lit up his whole face. Then they slipped out the door, and were gone. He was gone.
A/N: Slight change to schedule; next chapter on Friday, then another on Sunday. :D