I'm rereading TFOW right now and the most painful part about it is that, in about a year, I'm gonna reread this and think the exact same things.

Also, this site is being stupid right now, so I can't read/respond to reviews.

Chapter 10

Steve had expected not being able to sleep for most of the night. He had not anticipated not being able to sleep at all. That unpleasant surprise left him lying on his bed, his gaze fixed to the ceiling while he tried to dial back his awareness that Bucky's room was only a little ways down the hall.

Bucky was alive. Bucky remembered.

(How much? How much did he remember?)

"'Physically limited from performing well in service', huh?" Steve muttered. So Bucky knew that Steve had been sick when he was younger, but the way he talked about it—an assessment from a soldier. Not a friend.

But he said it. He knew.

Everything was quiet even though both Sam and Natasha were also in the house; Sam was on the pullout couch, insisting that Natasha take the one remaining bedroom. Not to anyone's surprise, Natasha hadn't argued that much—not that Sam would have let her take the couch even if she'd tried. Natasha would have to leave soon, but for now, they were working with their current arrangement. Bucky seemed to be relatively fine with it. He hadn't tried to leave despite having plenty of opportunity to do so.

He's here. I found him. Bucky's alive.

Steve blew out a breath. He wasn't going to sleep no matter what he did, so he got up and stretched, enjoying the midnight quiet. The snow had mostly let up, leaving Steve with a view of white-covered trees bathed in moonlight just outside his window. A ways away, the nearest house had its porch light on. From their investigations, Steve knew that the house had a teenager who was prone to coming home late.

He was tempted to say "Kids these days", but considering that he had spent his spare time picking fights when he was younger, he figured it wasn't his business.

Nothing stirred when Steve stepped into the hall, and he silently made his way to the kitchen. Sam was snoring quietly on the pullout mattress, one hand hanging over the edge, his fingertips brushing the floor.

Steve grabbed a banana, only to pause before unpeeling it. Recalling past unpleasant experiences with awful bananas (did no one else taste how bad they were?), Steve went for a pear instead. After cutting it into equal sections he took his place to the table and quietly ate, the familiar taste gradually easing his mind.

At least they couldn't mess up pears. Or watermelon, for that matter.

He finished the first quarter and reached for the second, only to stop when muffled shouting echoed throughout the house.

Sam stirred in his sleep but didn't wake. Steve frowned and got up, quickly heading back the way he'd come while remaining alert for any threats. None of the proximity sensors had gone off, and both Natasha and Sam had checked them multiple times to be absolutely sure that they were functional.

Another strangled yell, followed by several suspicious thunks.

The noises were coming from Bucky's room.

Steve opened the door, ready for anything even though he already suspected what was happening. He saw Bucky on his bed, the covers thrown off—one sheet had caught on a picture, dragging it to the floor—and his body covered in sweat. His face was contorted, his metal arm whirring in protest as Bucky spasmed on the bed.

He spoke rapid-fire Russian only to switch to English and then a language Steve didn't have the mind to identify midway through and Steve darted forward, determined to wake him up, if only to spare him from whatever nightmare had him in its clutches.

"Bucky!"

Shouting didn't work. Steve avoided a wild swing from Bucky's metal arm and pinned him down as best he could. "Bucky!"

Bucky's eyes shot open upon contact, but they weren't focused on Steve at all. In an instant, Steve found himself on the floor, the breath gone from his lungs and his chest aching. He rolled out of the way of a follow-up attack on instinct, but Bucky was relentless. Steve defended as best he could while stepping back before drop-kicking Bucky when he felt the bed frame against his calves. The younger man hit the ground hard while Steve bounced back to his feet off the mattress.

"Bucky, wake up!" Steve said. "Bucky!"

"—m awake," Bucky muttered. He was splayed out on his back, having remained still after Steve kicked him. From the way he was staring with glassy eyes at the ceiling, Steve couldn't tell whether he was actually awake. "Too early, pal."

Steve knew that sleepy drawl like he knew that backs of his own hands, and hearing it send a shard of glass through his heart. "Buck…"

Bucky was abruptly on his feet and on guard, clearly staring at Steve as though the last two minutes hadn't happened. His eyes were cold and he had a knife in his hand. Steve hadn't even noticed him grab it in the brief moment they'd been fighting. There was no hint of a sleepy drawl in his words when he spoke. "Why are you in here?"

Steve swallowed the hollow ache in his throat before answering. "You were having a nightmare. I woke you up."

"Oh." Bucky straightened. The knife disappeared. "Sorry."

"That's not—" Steve started, only to pause midway through and soften his tone. "That's not something you have to apologize for. If you want to talk…"

"I'm fine."

Steve pursed his lips, unwilling to accept that answer. Bucky was still breathing heavier than normal and his gaze kept darting about the room as though he expected to see something emerge from the shadows.

Like hell Steve was going to just leave him like that. "You don't have to talk, then. Come on; we're having a midnight snack."

He didn't take no for an answer and soon they were in the kitchen. Steve pushed the remainder of his fruit at Bucky and cut up another pear for himself. He was sorely tempted to sit next to Bucky, largely because Bucky looked so lost sitting alone at the table while staring at the plate of pears. But Sam had made it clear that Steve had to respect Bucky's barriers, that Bucky had to get used to being around them without being pressured. He could only push things so much.

"If you don't want your pear, I can eat it," Steve offered. Bucky glanced at him and then back at the plate.

"I'll eat it."

And he did. Slowly. Steve stayed with him quietly until Bucky finished and they went back to their own rooms. The entire encounter had a surreal quality to it, made even more so by the fact that neither Sam nor Natasha had woken up for its entire duration.

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