Greatest Price

{9}


Steve flipped to another page of the old album and for what felt like the hundredth time since he started viewing the pictures. He was extended on his couch, as he had been for 60 minutes, looking over a portion of the main substantial memories he had of his companions. One specifically was on his brain.

These photograph collections had been made to respect the majority of the Howling Commandos, however since Bucky had been such a focal figure in the gathering, he showed up in various pictures. Steve looked longingly at a fix of himself remaining with Bucky after a long mission. Them two were completely smudged and even marginally injured, yet they were grinning splendidly. Steve recollected that day; following a week of appalling travel, Bucky had perked him up with amicable mud battle. That arrogant rascal could simply discover somehow of making everything okay.

A tear spilled from the Captain's eyes and he brushed it away rapidly and moved to the following page. Every picture was a valuable bit of time, and in spite of the fact that it hurt Steve's heart to take a gaze at them, it was likewise by one means or another recuperating. If he could have Bucky once more.

"So let me get this straight, Stevie," Bucky teased, taking another swig from his canteen glaringly, oblivious to the gnawing icy walking over his etched face. He was inclining toward a wall his entire body listed and depleted. His blue eyes held an intense gaze on his friend sitting mindfully upright in a wooden seat, his wide arms collapsed over his uniformed midsection, battling with the measure of bulk choking against his pectorals. He wasn't accustomed to having a bulky group of a current combatant. They were sitting in a safe house, alone in the faint glimmers of waxen candlelight, the canvas of winter turned into a differentiation of light and obscurity as bits of snow begin to tumble from the thick mists floating over the devastated fields encompassing the property. Their weapons were equipped, senses on high alert and spirits defiant Bucky felt his lips jerk upward into a weak simper as he kept his eyes locked on Steve. "You enlisted shortly after I took those dames dancing at the pier?"

Steve shrugged his shoulders, indifferently "That was just the a small portion of it, Buck." he replied, gazing toward his astounded companion. After I was enlisted things at first didn't go so well-I was pathetic during training, but I showed them that it wasn't about strength and muscle to fight in a war, it was about having the guts to fight for something to believe in. That is freedom, Buck." he said immovably, his gem blue eyes gleam in the shadows shrouding over his chiseled face.

Listening to the measure of Steve's words, Bucky felt his heart seize into his midsection, he turned his head, and watch the snow course blankly over the approaching trees outside. He flicked his eyes down, frowning to himself. "I told you not to follow me here, Steve." he said, his deep voice, low and frequented "You always think that you've got something to prove...That you're trying to show the world that Steve Rogers can be a good soldier." He pressed his lips into a tight line, and clenched his hands to his sides. "You know after I left Brooklyn...I sometimes dreamed that when I returned home I would find your grave and you were gone because I wasn't there for you..." he stifled out, and then an onslaught of emotions broke over his face.

"Bucky, you have always been there for me, you don't need too, " Steve narrowed his eyes for a long moment, and then he got up slowly from the table as he registered the pain hidden beyond the dark haired soldier's pale blue eyes. He felt a heaviness press into his chest, as he extended out his hand, gripping Bucky's tensed shoulder. "You don't need too ever think that you've failed me. You have always been there during the worse and best of times...I thank you for that, Bucky Barnes. Without you watching my back ...There would be no Steve Rogers-No Captain America."

"My folks wanted to adopt you after your Ma died, we could have been brothers," Bucky responded, his voice a trembling at the constant and tearing sensation in his chest. He looked distraught and languished like he had been wounded, not moving just standing stoic and waiting for tears to roll down his face. "Now I see we have always been brothers..." He placed his gloved hand over Steve's sturdy armored shoulder. "I will never stop protecting you...I will always be your big and stupid brother."

Steve clenched his hands into fists and closed his eyes. Why hadn't he caught Bucky's arm in time? Why did his brother have to fall? Steve felt a burden of guilt on his chest as he thought of all the horrors his friend had endured at the hands of Hydra. All of them could have been prevented if only he had stretched out his arm just a little farther.

"Bucky," he wailed, "I'm too bad. I'm so too bad."

Steve wished more than anything that he could pour out his distress to his friend eye to eye. Yet with the Winter Soldier demonstrating considerably more slippery than Cap had dreaded, Steve ended up getting to be tired of the pursuit. He had vowed to seek after Bucky until his quality fizzled him, however shouldn't we think about after?

Steve's ponderings were interfered with when he felt the cot underneath him move. Turning his look, he saw that the dark feline had nimbly bounced onto the bedding beside him. Some way or another the cat's vicinity was relieving, practically like the organization of a decent companion. Rogers grinned and contacted stroke the feline.

"In a way, you're like your namesake, Bucky," Steve said to the cat as he scratched its shoulders. "You're a good listener and a good comfort."

"No I'm not," Bucky murmured, squashing his needle-point teeth into his fuzzy lips. He felt the weight of Steve's hand push against his angled shoulder bones. He offered no safety, submitting to swoon mindfulness. He listened to the gravity in Steve's words, every breath had gotten to be embellish in his ears, and his blue eyes obscured ever so marginally, attempting to make mental figurings and the amount of blood volume was streaming in his boiling over his veins and coursing hugely through his framework, yet his paws had begun to tremor, and the motivation to lash out an assault blurred when he saved a look into his companion's grave blue eyes, the same shading that made the red flashes vanish from his foggy vision.

As he felt his heart resettle in his midsection, he chose to talk by and by, however his voice appeared obstructed and throat crude as air arrived at his lungs. The surface of his injuries didn't bubble or murmur as he inhaled, and he wasn't reluctant when he gazed up at Steve. Those were great signs that his brain had developed sufficiently stable for his to capacity without his antagonistic nature, he gazed up inactively at the super-officer with disdain, his gag jerked somewhat into a glare as he kept his paws locked on the spreads. His face looked withdrawn, midnight hide rumpled and ears smoothed against his head. He poked against Steve's arm murmuring with despondence ragging up his throat. "I'm not a good friend, Steve." he meowed, attempting to jug Steve's consideration.

The feline's whimpering just about appeared to be so methodical it couldn't be possible be irregular commotions, yet Steve couldn't place why. In fact, it almost seemed like the poor feline was issuing a lament. Steve continued to stroke the cat, letting a long sigh escape his lips. A tiny noise made him look to the part of the room where the kittens were nuzzled together. It appeared that they were waking up, and, Steve thought about whether they were hungry.

I bet you guys could use some food," he said aloud, glancing back at the adult cat near his side. "Does milk sound good?"

Steve stood from the bed and walked across the cool floor to his refrigerator. Inside was a partially full carton of milk, and he placed it on the counter, looking at the black cat in his peripheral vision. It had hopped down from the bed and was stalking cautiously towards him. He smiled and talked to the feline as he located a saucer.

Where did you and your little sidekicks come from, anyway?" he asked, pouring the milk into the small bowl. He set it onto the hard ground near the kittens and then drew out a glass for himself. When his cup of milk was ready, he put away the jug and settled on the floor, crossing his legs and staring at the tiny kittens as they began to move.

The little female wobbled on her delicate paws closer to the soldier. Her nose jerked as she got a dubious whiff of milk, yet she solidified in mid-step, shy and uncertain whether to approach Steve as her purged stomach snarled, making her back curve up somewhat. She meowed, yet it seemed like a cry of pain, and her ears straightened at the same time her spooky sapphire eyes took in the new encompassing. She required her mom, and it in her senses to whimper for aid, she and her twin sibling was just a couple of weeks old, whatever is left of the litter didn't make it due to hazards, and without Bucky as her defender she would have passed on from starvation. As opposed to approaching the dish, she brought down her body, putting both of her frontal paws together and bolted her eyes back at Steve.

"A little skittish, I suppose," Steve mumbled under his breath.

He pressed his hands against the floor and hurried a couple of feet regressive, giving the little cats an unhindered way to the milk. He cast a sidelong look at the dark feline, pondering whether it would come to drink or not. In the event that the cats would not consume all alone, maybe their guardian would influence them. Steve knew by their size that the kittens without a doubt obliged continuous meals, and he hoped that the event in the street had not traumatized them.

Steve took a long drink of the cool drain in his glass and wiped the remaining parts from his lips. He set the glass down, and after that he saw the adult cat was indeed approaching the little kittens and the saucer set out for them. Steve, who noticed small details as a habit, had marveled at the grace with which cats carry themselves, but this strange feline seemed even more meticulous as it stalked across the apartment. Its sharp, perceptive eyes scanned the area, picking up all movement and assessing any sign of danger. The animal's manner was as precise as that of highly trained agent, or perhaps even more accurate than that.

Steve gradually lifted up from his spot and strolled to the table where a pad of paper and pencil lay, having been left there a couple of days back. Coming back to a sitting position on the floor, Steve considered the agile creatures before him and started to portray a drawing of them. Drawing had constantly helped him ease anxiety amid the War, and since he had stirred from the ice, he had discovered the cure no less well-suited.

The drawing slowly took structure as the felines went about their dinner. As Steve had trusted, the older cat gingerly advanceed to the saucer and wheedled the little cats to drink. Steve grinned at the scene before him, including shadow and point of interest with his gifted pencil. At the point when his portrait was done, he remained from his spot and set the cushion of paper back on the table. Turning around, he took gaze at the dark catlike and grimaced.

"I assume you eat meat," he said, strolling over to the fridge

He wasn't certain what sort of meat a feline would like, however he assumed that basically anything would do, particularly for a hungry stray. He scavenged through the drawers and finally discovered some turkey lunch meat. He put the compartment on the counter and took out a blade, cutting the nourishment into little, nibble size pieces. He set these on a plate and brought it down to the floor.

Steve clicked his tongue, attracting the attention of the black cat. "Want some more lunch?" he asked gently.

The entreating words quieted Bucky to chicken his head up, "I'm not eating that," he sneered or rather murmured, curving his back with disdain. "Why do you care about my life?" he doubted, withdrawing his paws out from his hairy digits. He genuinely didn't get it. He despised the very thought about the aggregate sum of lives he crushed while affected by HYDRA's control.

It was a sicking sense to feel such a great amount of blame, to convey agony and battle against replays of bad dreams devouring his incoherent personality. It made his stomach grip and stir. He loathed the prospect of murdering an alternate guiltless without reason, and above all else he despised feeling the heaviness of his wrongdoing dragging his spirit considerably further into the pit of his judgment toward oneself. On the off chance that he could reset time, turn back the clocks and return his past, he would have discovered away to keep Zola from sparing his injured body from extreme hypothermia-he would have kicked the bucket a respectable man and a decent friend. He would have saved such a variety of lives on the off chance that he didn't been restored on the operating table.

"I don't deserve this from you, Steve," Bucky lowered his head, and felt a dull pang in his chest, praying that somehow the super-soldier would hear his broken voice carried with hardened disdain. "You're a good friend...And I'm a monster."

Maybe it was without a doubt that Bucky's supplication to God was heard and replied, or possibly it there was an alternate, obscure power at work in the circumstance. Regardless of what the reason, it now happened that what had once been unintelligible whimpers originating from the dark feline's mouth were presently heard by Steve as genuine, English words. Bucky likewise perceived the change on the double, however for him it was not almost as stunning as it was for his companion.

Steve began up rapidly and looked watchfully around the flat, attempting to discover the genuine wellspring of the voice. His faculties had obviously let him know that the feline had talked, yet his reason had generally as fast rejected such a thought and bungled for an alternate choice. Everything he could expect was that there was a gatecrasher in the room, one who sounding astoundingly like Bucky.

Steve gradually edged to the wall where his shield was propped up, and when he was inside extent, he jumped towards it, getting it from its place and planning for an assault. None came. He filtered each fissure of the premises, yet he could discover nobody; nothing was level strange.

"Who's there?" he asked in a legitimate voice.

He risked a look at the feline, a piece of him still halfway accepting that it had been the one to talk. Staring down at it now and being certain that it was really simply a creature, he thought about how he could have been so effortlessly misdirected by his normally sharp ears. Pretty much as he turned his look somewhere else, the feline talked once more.

"Wait," Bucky drew out a sharp breath, off balanced on his four paws, unsure if Steve visually heard his voice. He understood human emotions, and the kind of grief one carries that piled on their shoulders when they left nothing left to fight for, but he never had to deal with this moment as barriers had been broken the moment he gazed longingly into Steve's gentle, and yet guarded blue eyes. It felt like a strategy for session he had obtained back in the Red Room-target obtaining implied termination,or at any rate giving oneself to the examiner for discipline.

It had been his way of life for almost a decade, and he was safe to agony in any structure not sympathy or fellowship. Quiet has dependably been his asylum , yet now he was arriving at an impasse of feelings and urges to murder. Inside his changed body, Bucky felt his vexation debilitating to leak out, however he stood his ground, solidly and immovable and leveled an insurable scowl at Steve.

Russian didn't move off his sand paper-like tongue-it blurred in his throat. Amid his preparation in the Soviet underground, his instructors just took the time to show him the fundamentals of the dialect, little and definitive words when ordering his agents when in surveillance, yet now his voice changed into rich, brash and American-it turned out unmistakably when he talked, despite the fact that his psyche is still modified to issue out in Russian.

The change provided for him to reuse his old voice-the healthy Brooklyn tone with a slur of Irish. He took a full breath and constrained himself to talk afresh, without the low murmuring clamor of a cat. It wasn't as troublesome not like it was a couple of days before-perhaps his humankind was gradually coming back to him. He needed to take a risk.

"Don't freak out, punk...I mean Steve." He hopped smoothly on the chair and then climbed onto the counter staring at the dumbfounded captain. "I know it's hard for you to understand this, but you need to shut up and listen."

Steve's mouth went dry and his jaw hung open. He didn't comprehend what to think or how to react. The feline was talking. What other clarification could there be? Nobody said the feline was genuine, however it most likely was talking. Steve had never become aware of mechanical creatures, however he gathered that somebody may have designed them at this point. In the event that PCs could fit into one's pocket nowadays, what were the cutoff points?

However crazy and suspicious the circumstance was, Steve couldn't totally decide out the likelihood that this feline was some way or another associated with Bucky, thus he did as the feline said. He quiets down and tuned in. He couldn't hazard harming Bucky, regardless of the possibility that the shots of this cat truly being in any capacity joined with his friend were thin, best case scenario.

"That is better," the black cat said with a chomp in his gravelly voice. He sat on the steel ledge, long tail swaying and pupils obscured as he held Steve's appearance in his overwhelming look.. "I'm not some stupid house cat if that's what you think...I happen to be a remorseful and dangerous assassin who crossed paths with an old hag and somehow I became this fleabag." he grumbled under his breath, lifting up his metal limb, allowing Steve to spare a blank glance at the red star painted on the chrome plates of his left frontal limb. "Look familiar?"

Obviously it looked recognizable. Steve had harped on the picture of Bucky for quite a long time and days, not able to overlook it for long. That arm, now that he contemplated it, looked precisely that the Winter Soldier's arm to the most moment point of interest.

Steve dealt with a gesture, however no words would leave his mouth. His throat appeared bolted up, and he realized that in the event that he attempted to talk, it would turn out as stammering nonsense, so he didn't even attempt. He basically kept his eyes settled on the feline and kept on listening.

"Steve do you know me?" Bucky's voice trailed away. His eyes shut, and he was lost for a long minute, long gone memory developed in his brain, and he declined to gaze at his friend. An insight of a scowl twisted his gag before he stopped to close his tears. Crying, yes, he was crying, feelings disappeared and dribble down his fur. A low and throaty groan thundered out of him. "I want to remember you, there are some sometimes that I have forgotten, but everything else seems like a blur...It feels like my past doesn't exist." he meowed wistfully, and lowered his body, tucking his paws under his stomach, and trembling as his ebony fur became slick with more tears. "I never meant to do those things..."

Steve felt pity and adoration wash over him, and in spite of the fact that he challenged not touch the feline, for on the off chance that it was without a doubt Bucky, he may not respond well to any kind of contact, Steve felt his tongue relaxed from stun. Taking in an unstable breath, he made a sound as if to speak and talked.

"I know you didn't, Buck. HYDRA's requests and the blood that came about because of them stains their own hands, not yours. It wasn't your deficiency."

Steve desperately wanted to ask for more information, specifically about Bucky's current predicament, but he decided against it. Surely the trauma of being a cat was more than enough, and Bucky definitely didn't need someone grilling him about the whole situation. If he wanted to speak of it, he would. Steve looked into the cat's face, trying to see his friend in it and send him comfort without words. As he gazed, he did think he saw Bucky looking out at him from behind the cat's perceptive blue eyes, and he smiled as encouragingly as he could.

"It's going to be okay, Bucky."

"Okay?" Bucky growled as he was shaken out of his stupor by Steve's compassionate words. His hide swarmed and cat muzzle cut into a wild glare. "I'm a stupid cat!"

"Well," Steve said, running his hand through his blond hair and sighing, "you won't be forever. If you were changed into one, we'll just have to change you back. There's got to be a way."

Bucky scorned irritably, "I can think of one," his voice drew darker, and claws spring out. "Put a bullet in the hag's head, and watch her bleed until she reverses this curse or whatever it's called. It's effective and plus it will spare your life..."

"My life?" Steve asked, not able to veil his astonishment. "What have I got to do with it?" Realizing that his tone was bit excessively forceful, Steve brought down his voice and included an extra question. "Does this include me, as well?"

The entire issue was silly and way out of his group, yet Steve still needed to tread painstakingly and in a way deserving of his friend. Regardless of what right Steve needed to frenzy, this wasn't Bucky's fault, as Steve had beforehand said. He expected to work with Bucky on this one, pretty much as they had dependably managed their issues before.

Bucky tore his eyes far from Steve's firm look, and huffed out a baffled murmur. He sensed the sudden misery spinning inside Steve, and the anguish the malleable warrior attempted to stow away. " If we can't discover a way to change me once again into a human...You will wind up like yours really, Steve." he brought up brutally, however it must be said.

Steve's eyes became wide, and he sucked in a breath of stun, yet said nothing. Truth be told, he was quiet for some time, pondering what had transpired. This was a considerable amount to take in, and he had no clue how to move ahead at all. After a couple of minutes in thought, he spun around and strolled over to the table where his telephone was resting. He would never be utilized to this bit of innovation, yet he had figured out how to send a content.

"Bucky, this is past me," he conceded, giving his companion an edgy look. "Would S.H.I.E.L.D. have any intel about how this...transformation could happen? I understand that you may not have any desire to examine this, yet we don't have a great deal of choices. How precisely did this happen? In the event that this witch lady you've said is associated with HYDRA, then there may be some information about her in an old document some place. I have friends that could uncover it."

"No," Bucky immediately responded, jumping off the counter and moving to the table, fast paces until he remained before Steve, he needed to achieve the commander on a genuine level. "I can't be traded off, Steve. In the event that the rebel operatives of HYDRA found that I'm a cat..." He stopped a breath, and stole a look at the dozy cats lapping their tongues in the dish of milk. They were targets. "They won't stop until each stray is dead." he certified, dismally.

Steve realized that he could believe his contacts inside S.H.I.E.L.D., however he chose not to press Bucky on the issue. On the off chance that Bucky was unwilling, then they would discover an alternate arrangement. Steve moaned and set the phone back onto the table. At that point, grabbing a chair in a seat so he was on a level with the feline, he investigated its eyes and argued.

Bucky, I know this is all out of whack, and it's horrible and unjust, but we need all the details we can get so that we can properly examine the facts. Would you please tell me everything that happened? Please? I want to get you back to normal, pal, and I can't do that if I don't even know all that happened in the first place. Maybe if you go over it aloud, we'll notice something you'd missed before, and we can capitalize on it.""

Bucky intensely listened to the measure of immovability in Steve's voice, and felt the incongruity of the circumstance. Though those fretful evenings of couldn't care less for a thin blonde haired kid while he battled against high fevers, diseases and shallow breathing, he was currently the person who required Steve's ensured, and in spite of the fact that he couldn't deny it, he was happy to have his closest companion viewing his back. "I try to remember, but I don't think it will be enough to help you with the details." he sighed evenly, and then looked down at his paws. "I do know the hag or witch worked for HYDRA...She knew me." his voice became soundlessly distant.

"Well," Steve said, giving a smile of encouragement, "that's certainly a start. Perhaps this was their plan all along. We should probably go out and look for this HYDRA witch herself."

The discussion was suddenly decreased off by a progression of noisy howls originating from the cats. Bucky looked over at them and moaned, shaking his head somewhat. Who would have suspected that several little cats could be so much work?

"They require me," he said, bouncing nimbly from the table. He strolled rapidly over where the cats were yowling close to the void saucer. He inhaled their commonplace fragrance and licked each of their temples. "What do you need?" he asked, to some degree bothered.

"Maybe they just need some rest," Steve suggesting, getting up from his chair and coming over to the scene. "Let's go to the bed; they can sleep, and we can talk."

Bucky consented to the consistent proposition, and he snatched the little female by the scruff and started conveying her over the floor. As he did as such, he got an alternate agonizing indication of what he had been decreased to. He close his eyes hard, attempting to overlook what had transpired, however he was mindful so as not to damage the little cat gripped in his jaws.

"Bucky, let me take her," Steve offered, stooping down and gently taking the kitten from Bucky's grasp. In his other hand, he held the little male, who was still letting out a string of discontent moaning. Bucky said nothing out loud, but inside he thanked Steve for his consideration. Steve could not understand what it was like to be a cat, but he at least had the sense and care to try to help.

Bucky leapt to the soft sheets of the bed and sat up, back erect and tail curled around his feet. Steve placed the kittens near to Bucky's side and moved the blankets around them to keep them warm. Then he himself sat on the mattress and waited for Bucky to say something. Looking into the cat's eyes, he saw a struggle, and he felt pity once again stab his heart.

"Bucky," Steve said quietly, "are you alright?"

It was an inept inquiry: Bucky was not okay, and Steve promptly lamenting asking it, yet now it was past the point of no return. Bucky's eyes flashed at him in anguish and fury, and for a minute, Steve thought he may lash out. The feline stayed in its spot, however his back curved and his hide remained on end as he vented his grievance.

"I'm a cat, Steve!" he stifled out. He pointed with his dim paw at his own hairy body. "A useless, dirty creature!"

"No, you're not," Steve quickly and adamantly assured. Bucky turned upward with tear-filled, urgent eyes, simply sitting tight for Steve to attempt to improve it all when he didn't think it conceivable. "You're trapped," Steve proceeded with, "yet we're going to get you back to normal. You're not a cat, Sergeant Barnes! And you're not a weapon either. You are a human being under a curse, and I'm going to reverse it; I promise."

Bucky felt a minor fire of trust glimmer in the profundities of his spirit at Steve's words. The Captain sounded so certain, so beyond any doubt that everything was truly going to turn out right, that Bucky had some major snags doubting him. At that point a sudden memory climbed in his psyche, and he saw Steve again in his past, grasping him. As of now, he longed for that alone.

"Steve," he said gradually, battling through the disarray and trap of HYDRA's molding. "My friend..."

Steve couldn't wait any longer. He reached out his hand and drew Bucky close to his chest, hugging him tightly and forgetting for a moment the cruel fate that had befallen his friend. The only moment that he let his mind return to the present was when he felt the nudge of a kitten's nose on his leg. The two baby cats had snuggled up by his side, almost as if they sensed the closeness of the brothers.

Bucky closed his eyes and let all thoughts of his condition fade away as he felt the warmth of Steve's solid shoulder against him.

At this moment, he truly believed that all the wounds of HYDRA would be washed and cleaned in time, and perhaps he could really be Bucky Barnes again. Steve's friend.


A big thank you to my co-writer Thalion Estel who did wonders in this chapter. Team work makes writing so much more fun, and I couldn't have done this chapter without her. Thank you to all my readers and followers. I hope everyone has a blessed and merry Christmas. Enjoy the season.