MCU (c) Marvel Studios

'Cause I'm broken when I'm open and I don't feel like I am strong enough. 'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome and I don't feel right when you're gone away. You don't feel me here anymore… — Seether featuring Amy Lee

A heavy silence hung between them; no sounds broke it, nobody came to alleviate the awkwardness. Bucky could hear himself breathing, eyes fixed on Steve. "Oh." It was all his friend said. Whatever else Steve was thinking about slipped away behind that downtrodden pensive mask, he had seen him wear so many times before: when girls gave him that disgusted look of annoyance, when people ignored him, when bullies laughed as he struggled to get up because 'I give up' wasn't in Steve Rogers' lexicon. The look that said: I'm forever invisible even when I appear not to be.

He had threatened Natasha if she broke Steve's heart, instead he broke it. Natasha had told him she no longer loved him, yet he held onto something that was no longer there, onto a woman that was no longer his. He could still remember the few nights they shared together in Russia. The smell of her skin and hair, the way her body molded against his, the huskiness of her voice as they made love. All of it. He wasn't lying when he told her those were some of his happiest memories. Now he was ruining any chance his best friend had with the woman they both had feelings for. "I'm sorry," he admitted. The jealousy in his heart withered and died in that moment; he felt free, as if he could finally breathe.

"So, you and Natasha, huh?" Steve said, looking at him. He nodded, licking his lips. "Bucky, I—"

"Look," he said and decided to go just throw caution to the wind. Steve deserved this chance at happiness, especially after losing Peggy. "I'm a jerk" — he couldn't help but smile when Steve gave a little laugh — "and I'll admit that… I'm jealous. I'm been jealous of you… of what you've become for a while. I know my relationship with Natasha is in the past but… being with her were some of the happiest moments I had during my periods of lucidity while you were in the ice. I treasured them, and I was hoping maybe, I could reclaim them." He rubbed his face with his hand. "Please, don't hate me Steve. I'd hate to have a woman come between us; you're like a brother to me."

"I don't hate you, Bucky," he said, his voice soft, full of concern and brotherly affection. "In a way, I understand where you're coming from."

"You do?" he looked at his friend, blinking to keep the tears at bay. He refused to cry, even though he knew Steve wouldn't begrudge him for it.

"Yeah." He swallowed thickly, finding a spot on the pristine floor to stare at. "I still love Peggy. And… even though she's dead, sometimes I feel like… I can't love Natasha as fully as I should be able to because a part of me will always belong to Peggy and if I let that go, then it wouldn't be real. That I can't go back and tell her how I feel. So, I hold onto it, hoping against hope that this is all a bad dream and I'll wake up in camp, Peggy leaning over me and thanking God I'm alive." He sniffed, rubbing his nose and bowed his head. "I feel like I'm in a dark world, and my love for Peggy was my guiding star and its fading and I'm scared." He swallowed.

"Steve, I—"

"I'm scared that if I let it go, I'll be all alone in the darkness," he whispered, and stood up. He patted Bucky on the shoulder as he headed towards the door.

"Steve, where you going?" he asked, worried Steve may do something to hurt himself. While his own mental instability was obvious, he knew that Steve suffered — often quietly — as well. He was a man adrift, lost among time. At least he had been aware of the passage of time each time he was thawed, he got a crash course on the new tactics, on what had happened between one thaw and the next. The changing decades had been like leaves, something you notice at the edge of your reality only for it end up being blurred into the background. For Steve, Bucky understood, it had been different. One minute it was 1945 and the next it had been in the mid-2010s. There was no gradual easing into it, Steve had been tossed into the next century — next millennia even.

"Somewhere…" he stopped, staring at nothing; the footsteps of the guards and servants moving down the hall were heard, the soft hum of machinery within the walls, their even breaths. Steve scuffed the ground with his foot. "Where I can be alone," he finally said and left the room. He watched the door hiss shut and Bucky had a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Natasha!"

Natasha looked up from putting the final touches she needed to make sure everyone got out of Wakanda and into their altered identities as seamlessly as possible. "Bucky?" she asked, arching a brow, wondering why he was here. "Is there something wrong?"

"Do you have a moment?" he asked, as he pulled up a chair and straddled it. She made an amused sound in her throat.

"For you, I have two," she said with a wink. Bucky flashed her an awkward smile, running his hand through his hair. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I…" he stopped. She was surprised how easy it was to read him. As the Winter Soldier he was a towering figure of ice cold discipline and frigid execution. A block of ice made metal and flesh. Never betraying any emotions, robotic even and executed his orders down to the very last period. Contrary to Bucky, who at the moment was as easy to read as a book.

"Yes?" she hated pulling things out of people. It wasn't that she couldn't do it, it just was that when she interrogated people she preferred for them to craft the noose they'll hang themselves with instead of her doing it for them. It was easier and more fun that way. Bucky was going to make this difficult she realized with a twinge of annoyance.

"I told Steve about us, lisichka," he mumbled, bowing his head to avoid her gaze.

"What?" she stood up and lifted his chin with two fingers, digging her nails into the soft flesh just behind the bone. She kept her face impassive, though she did feel a bit pleased to note he winced at the pain.

"I told him about us!" Bucky bit out, but he didn't struggle. He could probably best her, even with one arm, but they both knew she was in control. That was the thing with creatures that possessed venom, they are usually smaller, and their venom gives them a much needed advantage in the scheme of life. They both knew: a widow's bite could take down a grown man.

"Why?" she asked, her tone curious but laced with anger. "He didn't need to know. There was no reason to tell him unless—" she stopped, a shocked expression passing over her face only to be replaced with a devilish one that spoke to a secret knowledge she only possessed. "I never thought you would be afflicted by such things."

"Can it, Romanoff," Bucky growled, jerking his face away. She let him with an amused chuckle. "I'm not proud of it, and I regret ever telling him. You were right. Steve didn't need to know. I was being an idiot."

"We all make mistakes," she said with a little shrug. He snorted. "Why did you do it?"

"Do you want to truth?"

"Lies are too sweet for my liking and half-truths make me gag," she said, that manipulative smile plastered all over her lips. "Never cared for honest falsehoods either."

"You're a piece of work, lisichka," he growled.

"It makes me good at what I do."

"Clearly."

"I like that you still call me that," she said, "Steve calls me 'darling' and it's a bit old fashion, but feels very American." She pulled a strain of his hair through her fingers. "I'm your lisichka."

"Natasha," he said, his voice hoarse, "make up your mind. Either stop flirting with me or give up on Steve." He grabbed her bicep. "Because the reason I told my best friend about us is because I was jealous of what you two have, jealous because I was still pining for a you — a woman I can't have — and I was hoping Steve's damnable morals would kick in and he'd step aside to give me a chance to be with you again."

She blinked, glancing at his hand around her bicep to the tight line of his lips and his clenched jaw. At one time she would have found that expression arousing, now she just found it annoying. It was instinct for her, to wrap people around her finger, using their vulnerabilities against them. Bucky was no exception. In fact, the only exception was Steve, she just couldn't be anything than a hundred percent honest with him. Something about him drew it out of her, compelled her to be authentic around him. "He didn't, did he?"

Bucky swallowed. "I wouldn't let him."

"Hm." She leaned in close, their noses almost touching. "And you should know me better." She pulled her arm free from his grasp and crossed her arms over her chest. "Where's Steve?"

"I don't know," he said, "he said he's going somewhere to be alone."

She looked out the window, studying the expanse of jungle that she could see. Steve was out there somewhere, alone. He shouldn't be alone, being alone wasn't good for him. She licked her lips. She had to find him, she will find him, because she imagined home she saw him. "Okay."

She did find him, sitting atop a rise that over looked the plains. It was a good trek from the palace, the scintillating city with its juxtaposing of old and new behind her like a glowing jewel in the gathering dark. The dried grasses crunched beneath her feet and she waved her hand about her face to scatter the evening gnats and mosquitos. The night wind was sweet upon her tongue, the musky scent of the savannah coating the back of her throat with the pleasant sense of freedom. It was warm in the gloaming with a promise of a cool night, the first stars appearing in the inky doom of the sky. She had to shield her eyes from the setting sun's final glare, and he was there before her; hunched up, trying to appear as small as his great bulk would allow him to appear, his from silhouetted in the dying aureate glow of the sun. "Steve?" she said, her voice so soft that the wind swept it away. She walked towards him, standing by his side. "It's beautiful," she said, watching the landscape before her.

A hyena laughed in reply to a distant bird call; the air warm upon her face. She watched the small herd of gazelle walk across the savannah. It was peaceful here, as if all the cares and horrors of the world simply melted away. She put her hand on his shoulder. A goat bleated behind her, and somewhere beyond the horizon and lion roared. Though night was ascending, the savannah came alive as if the animals were thankful that the harsh heat of the day had finally been vanquished by the gathering forces of the night. In the east the moon had already climbed over the city, bathing the world in its cool silver light. He grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers.

A soft sight escaped her lips as she sat down and pulled him close. He wrapped his arms around her and hid his face in her chest. She watched the nighttime landscape, running her fingers through his hair as his shoulders shook with his silent tears. She didn't say anything, didn't have to say anything. She angled her head towards the heavens, watching the stars gather in the darkening sky. The warm wind dried her silent tears. Sometimes the lives they lived hurt so much and it felt as if all the agony and pain and the weight of the caked-on blood would eventually crush them. Yet, they still managed to trudge on, despite it all (or in spite of it).

His hair was soft, a bit dusty from sitting out here for so long and for the first time she felt a profound sense of peace. The world could end tomorrow, an asteroid blowing half the planet into space and she would be content with the life she led because of the man in her arms. A star fell, and she watched it arch through the sky into the horizon beyond. The memory of the girl she once was, caused her to make a wish upon the shooting star. "I promise Steve," she whispered, "that as long as I live you'll never be alone." Because I'm home with you, I am home.

Whooo

I liked this chapter. I love the writing in the chapter. It's a bit on the short side but it's still very deep. Next chapter should be longer.

Also, I graduate college next week and I need to start looking for a job and I'm lowkey anxious as fuck about taking this next step (and when I'm anxious a procrastinate hard which isn't good but I'm so anxious about The Next Step).

Thank you for all the kind words and encouragement, and for reading (especially to my silent readers, you guys are the bestest! Always reading the new chapters. I'm glad you read it.)

Remember: if you wanna comment but not sure what to say just leave a kudos in the comments (because AO3 didn't get the memo that we want kudos on chapters and not just the complete work)

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Nemo et Nihil