I'm so late to be reacting to Captain America: WS, but watching 'the Falcon and the Winter Soldier' made me re-watch Captain America movies in new light. Now I'm a little obsessed with Bucky and Steve, and I just wish we'd gotten to see more of Bucky's initial recovery. Anyway, this one started as a drabble then got away from me. At the moment I'm considering this fic finished but there might be a second chapter if inspiration strikes again.
Btw the title is taken from 'Nobody' by Faith Marie which is a song that really fits Bucky's story.
Steve
There's a knock on the door.
It's exactly 4 AM, and absolutely no one would be knocking on Steve's door at this hour if it wasn't an emergency. No one would be knocking on Steve's door anytime. He supposes that's why Natasha keeps not so gently pushing him to get a life.
Steve garbs the shield and sneaks towards the door, ready for whatever fight has found him this time. It's funny, Steve used to be the one chasing fights. He looks through the peephole, the hallway is shrouded in darkness too thick even for Steve's enhanced vision. Steve supposes this is a fight then and not a friend? teammate in need, since he could swear that hallway light is left on throughout the night.
There's a knock on the door.
Steve pushes it open, shield already raised against an attack. But then the moonlight from his own window gleams across a masked face, and something inside Steve shudders. The man doesn't move, doesn't even blink. It's too dark to tell for sure, but Steve thinks the masked man's eyes are blue. He can see long hair, and a black uniform under a hoodie… and gloves, which is odd. The mask though, the mask is what really throws Steve. His first impression is of a spy or assassin hiding his face, but the more he looks at it the more restricting and dehumanizing it appears. Like a muzzle.
"Are you… okay?" Steve asks dumbly. The masked man stays silent. Steve wonders if he even can speak through that thing. His gaze falls back to the man's eyes, and there's something about them- if only there was more light.
And then headlights pass in the street below, and for a moment the beam falls on the man's face, and Steve knows those eyes. Only that's not possible. Natasha might have been right to push him into the world because Steve is definitely seeing things now. Steve tries to shake it off, and then he reaches a hand out towards the man because he hasn't attacked yet and maybe he needs help. But suddenly the man's entire body goes rigid, and he takes a wide step back while also raising a knife that's come out of nowhere.
Steve raises his shield in defense. He must really be losing it if he misjudged a situation this badly, all because he saw a flash of something familiar in a stranger's eyes. But a moment passes, and no attack comes. Steve glances at the man and sees him frozen, blinking at Steve with a dazed sort of confusion. And then he gets it. "I'm not gonna hurt you." He promises, lowering the shield. "I'm sorry if I startled you."
Once again there is no response, but the man does lower the knife.
"Would you like to come in?" Steve asks hesitantly. He knows at least ten people who would call him an idiot right now. But he steps away from the door, making a clear path. At first he thinks, he's not gonna do it, he's gonna bolt. But then the masked man takes a tentative step forward, and another, stopping just inside the apartment.
"Good." Steve encourages softly. He has the sense he's dealing with a trauma victim, someone either in shock on in the grips of severe PTSD. He has to wonder how the man found him. Was it an accident that he came knocking on Captain America's door? Or was he in trouble and came specifically to Steve for help? Steve pauses, should he call SHIELD? Furry might not be the most sensitive person, but he would know what to do. But then he looks at the man, who hasn't moved an inch since stepping through the door, and something in Steve says no. He needs to keep this to himself for now. If nothing else, calling for backup might actually make the man bolt, and for some reason the thought unsettles Steve more than it has any right to.
"I'm just going to close the blinds, and turn the light on, okay?" Steve warns and goes to do just that. He does leave the light in the hallway off, not wanting to startle the man still shrouded in the cover of darkness. "Why don't you come sit down? I can get you something to eat." He offers. When there's no reaction from the man, Steve puts a checkmark in the shock category and frowns at the thought. For all he knows the man could be in need of medical attention. He decides to push that to the back of his mind for now. He walks over to the couch and plops down with purposeful ease, then pushes a pillow to the other side to make more room. "This might be more comfortable." He adds for good measure.
Finally, the man follows Steve's lead, albeit slowly. He sits as far away from Steve as possible while still sitting on the couch, but his body doesn't relax. Now that the man is finally in decent light, Steve decides to take a better look. His previous assessment was correct – a black uniform, tight and constricting in a way that can't possibly be comfortable, a hoodie, gloves, and that damned mask. The long hair is in the man's face, so he can't get another look at those eyes. Not that he's trying to, mind you. It's also impossible to see whether the man has any injuries, which is both frustrating and worrying. Steve doesn't think the man would tell him if he was hurt.
"I can get you something to eat?" Steve offers again. He's stopped expecting an answer, so he goes to the kitchen and hopes the man doesn't disappear. Once out of view Steve briefly considers texting Natasha, but once again decides not to call any sort of backup yet.
He opens the fridge, frowns to see it mostly empty. So he hasn't been adjusting that great, who can blame him? He doesn't know much about shock, but he's been watching Harry Potter while making it down his list, and he remembers that sugar is supposedly good for these situations. He grabs a few different candy bars, fills a glass with water, and returns to the living room.
"I can order some real food if you'd like, but this should do for now." He holds up the objects so that the man can see, then slowly places the candy bars on the table within reach. He holds out the glass though and holds his breath until a gloved hand tentatively takes it from him.
The man stares at it.
Suddenly Steve realizes the problem. "Maybe you could take the mask off?" He asks. Steve would love nothing more than to rip that thing off the man's face himself.
For some reason, the man doesn't seem to share the notion. From what Steve can make out behind the curtain of hair, the man's eyes seem to widen, and he shrinks back into himself. The response screams fear although Steve can't understand why the suggestion to remove the mask would trigger such a reaction. Surely he's not wearing that thing voluntarily? "Why don't you take it off to eat, and then you can put it back on if that's what you want?" Steve suggests diplomatically. But the man shrinks back even more, which Steve didn't think was possible.
Three things happen then. The glass slips through the man's fingers. "Hey-" Steve reaches out without thinking, and then he's on his back on the floor, with a knife pressed against his throat. It happens so fast that Steve has to blink away the whiplash, only then does the instinct to fight return. And Steve is ready to do just that, but then his eyes finally meet the man's - wild, and blue and familiar.
Steve's world comes to a violent halt and then starts anew, only now it's been twisted so drastically Steve has no hope of ever catching up. And it's depressing that this is the second, maybe even the third time Steve has experienced this.
Steve breathes the name, or maybe that's only in his head, but then the knife is being pulled away and the man is hunched in a corner halfway across the room.
Steve swallows. He's wrong. He must be wrong. Because Bucky Barnes is dead. Even if he somehow had survived that fall all those years ago, he'd be dead from natural causes by now. Steve is merely projecting the ghosts in his head. It's a PTSD thing, and maybe after this Steve will relent and go see a therapist. Scratch that, he will definitely go see a therapist before he loses it completely.
But for now, the man is right there, and he has Bucky's eyes even if he can't possibly be Bucky. So Steve picks himself off the floor. "It's okay." He says calmly, even though he is anything but calm. "I'm okay, and so are you." He holds up his hands and slowly approaches the man, stopping once he's just within arm's reach and lowering himself to the floor.
They're on the same level now, but the man is pointedly avoiding Steve's eyes. "Hey," Steve keeps his voice soothing. "I know you're nervous, and I can't imagine what happened to you, but I want to help. But I- I need you to take that mask off." Steve winces at how demanding he sounds. He wants to rectify it but can't keep the desperation out of his voice any longer, and it bleeds through. "Just for a minute. I'm not gonna hurt you, but I need to see your face. Please. I just- just…" Steve runs a hand over his own face, trying to collect himself. "Please."
Oh-so slowly the man raises his hand to the mask. Steve holds his breath. The man pulls the mask over his head and Steve finds Bucky staring back at him.
Steve can't stop the horrified Oh God that falls from his lips. It reminds him of Zola's lab all those years ago, of finding his friend strapped down and delirious when Steve had thought him dead. It's the same kind of relief mixed with growing horror because Bucky is alive, but what have they done to him?
"Bucky?" Steve manages to choke. He just barely manages to stop himself from reaching out, suddenly remembering how well that went the first two times. And Bucky doesn't really react, just keeps on staring at Steve with a completely blank expression, something Steve has never seen on his friend's face before. Steve clears his throat. "Is- is it really you?"
Something does shift in Bucky's eyes then, too fast for Steve to read. And Steve thinks he's not going to get a response, but then unexpectedly- blessedly Bucky reaches for Steve, his right hand coming up between them. Steve grips it without hesitation, noting the way Bucky's body tenses at the contact and then relaxes. Steve holds back the urge to pull his friend into a hug.
Afterward, Steve manages to coax Bucky back to the couch. He brings a blanket but Bucky stares at it as if unsure what to do, and Steve decides not to test his luck by tucking his friend in himself. He has a thousand questions, but Bucky isn't talking, and Steve thinks maybe he needs some sleep, maybe he'll be better in the morning.
Bucky is looking a little more relaxed now, so Steve decides not to try to move him to the bedroom. But he's not willing to let his friend out of his sight either, so he brings a pillow for himself and settles in the chair. He fakes sleep, hoping Bucky will follow his lead. But internally he's too wound up to even try to sleep, and what if he wakes up and Bucky is gone? What if he wakes up and realizes Bucky was never here at all?
After a while, Steve cracks an eye open and sees that Bucky does appear to be asleep. What happened to you, Buck? He thinks. Steve had been sure no one could survive that fall. But now he thinks, maybe someone enhanced could have. Steve had. Steve should have pressed more about Bucky's time in captivity, should have jumped after him then and there, or at least brought a rescue team afterward.
Should have, should have, should have. But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he had sat in a bar feeling sorry for himself. While Bucky was-
What? Was he frozen at the bottom of that ravine, just like Steve was? It would explain how he hasn't aged, but not any of the other things. Certainly not Bucky's current behavior, or appearance. Steve knows how disorienting waking up in a new century can be, but this is something else. This is fear and trauma, the kind that could only have come from abuse. Steve isn't a vengeful man, but he swears whoever did this will pay. But even more importantly, he swears he will help Bucky. Whatever it takes.
Till the end of the line.
I've also been working on a post-WS fic which is currently sitting at 12000 words. I'd like to have a bit more written before I start posting, but if you liked this then keep your eyes out for that one (is it bad that I have 3 deadlines next week and I'm doing this instead?).
Here's a little sneak peak, if anyone's interested:
That evening Steve leaves his window open. He doesn't expect the invitation to be accepted, but the thought is there, and maybe that's what matters. He also makes a sandwich and leaves it on the porch. I know you're there, the metaphorical sign says, you can come closer. But the next day the sandwich lays untouched. Steve tries the same tactic the next night, with similar results. That's when he has the sinking realization. It comes in the memory of Natasha, checking their water bottles for signs of tampering during their everyone we know is trying to kill us phase. Back then Steve found it amusing, you think the vending machine is out to get us? He'd quipped. But that was before Steve met the Winter Soldier, and today the memory is accompanied by growing horror. Steve swallows it and goes out to buy premade sandwiches, sealed packaging. It's the third night and Steve leaves the packaged sandwiches on his porch.
The next morning, they are gone.
Most of the story is actually set from Bucky's POV and is focused on exploring Bucky's broken mind, while Steve is in the background trying to bribe Bucky with food like a stray cat.