Steve's suggestion about visiting his sister and Peggy gets stuck in his head, and he can't help himself from thinking on it over the next few days. He makes his way through the entirety of the book from the library, sucking up every scrap of information about his old self as he can, and he thinks.

The more he learns about himself, the more he wishes Hydra hadn't taken it all away, and the more he wants to relearn it. He can't help being angry that Hydra had ripped away his entire family, and… and part of him wants to reach out to Hannah, to reconnect with her somehow and rebuild that part of his life…

But he has to admit to himself, that the idea also makes him anxious.

Steve may be content to live with the Bucky he is now… but he has no idea what Hannah will expect from him, and… and he has no idea what he expects from Hannah. His sister has grown through a whole lifetime without him. She had still been a kid when he and Steve had left, and now she is an old woman. Not only does she not know him… but he doesn't know her either, and he can't help worrying that reaching out to her might be like trying to force two puzzle pieces together that no longer match.

But… at the same time… Hannah isn't getting any younger. She is already eighty-seven, and if the death of the rest of his family has taught him anything, it's that he has no idea how long he has until the last of it slips away.

He's fairly certain that if Hannah— or Peggy— the two last people besides Steve that had known him in his past life, if they die before he manages to work up the courage to visit them then… then he's certain he will regret it.

So. That leaves him with the only option of actually coming up with a plan and deciding to visit the two of them, despite how nervous it makes him. Still, he's not about to go rushing into this. He had told Steve that he hadn't been ready yet, and he hadn't been lying about that… but, he decides there are some things he can do to settle himself and make sure he's ready to take that step.


The first step is obviously making sure that his trigger words are well and thoroughly neutralised. He is absolutely not going to endanger or put his sister or Peggy at risk, so those need to go first.

It takes a bit of organising to make sure everything is ready for the test. He brings Steve into the BARF tech room with him, partly because he wants him to test the words in person, and make sure he can resist that, but also because every other one of his last few sessions with BARF have ended with him in distress in some way, and Steve being called, so he might as well just cut out the middle-man and bring him along.

He also has Stark come, because while he doesn't really need him to run any tech… he can't help feeling that with everything Stark had done for him, the man should be able to see the culmination of his work. He also brings Natasha, because he wants to test this thoroughly, and he knows she will be able to say the trigger words for him.

They all gather in the BARF room and he stands in the middle of the room facing them, trying to control the nerves twisting around in his stomach. He knows that he'd managed to resist Beck's attempt at triggering him, but he can't help feeling slightly nauseous at the idea that he might not be able to do it again.

He lifts his head. "If it doesn't work—"

"Then we'll use the shutdown protocol," Steve reassures him, and Bucky nods. He'd asked for that specifically, because he'd rather be shutdown than be the Asset again. Hopefully if he gets shutdown, he might wake up as himself afterwards.

Hopefully.

In front of him, Steve swallows and rubs his hands on his pants, getting ready. Bucky swallows as well and tries to ignore the stab of guilt that he feels for making Steve do this. He knows it's necessary, and that Steve is willing… but he doesn't imagine that Steve finds the idea very enjoyable.

"Okay," Steve says, setting his jaw. "Let's get started." Next to him, Stark sits in one of the chairs by the console and Natasha stands with her arms folded. Bucky flicks his eyes over them once before nodding back at Steve.

"Ready," he says.

Steve offers him a tight half-smile before he breathes in. "Zhelaniye," he says, and Bucky fights against tensing, closing his eyes as he works on breathing in calmly.

"Rjavıy," Steve continues, his accent is a little off, of course, but more than passable as he lists off the Russian words. "Semnadtsat'."

"Rassvet." Daybreak. When Beck had been trying to trigger him, he had heard that word and thought about when a handler of his had violently woken him up, early in the morning. This time, he thinks about waking up completely relaxed in Steve's room, the sun shining in serenely through the window.

"Pech'." Furnace. He thinks about Sam standing next to him by the stove, his eyes glinting mischievously as they engage in a pancake flipping competition.

"Devyat'." Nine. He begins to count off the people who have helped him to get to this moment. Steve, Stark, Natasha, Clint, Sam, Bruce and JARVIS. And then he adds, Peggy, and Hannah.

"Dobrokachestvennyye." Benign. That one is a harder one, but he focuses on what it means. Benign is not harmful, or… or kind, and that is something he has experience with now.

"Vozvrashcheniye domoy." Homecoming. He almost smiles. That one is easy. Home is not difficult to find anymore, he doesn't think. He'd been working steadily towards it (and he'd been right in the middle of it for longer than he'd known), and— he thinks of Hannah— he's getting closer and closer every day.

"Odin." One. That one is harder, but he— he swallows and focuses down on one person. Last number he had counted everyone around him, and this time he counts only one person. Bucky.

"Gruzovoy vagon." Freight car. He doesn't want to think about the train that had separated him from Steve and had started all of this, so instead he settles back into the memory that had been triggered for him last time, him and Steve as children, playing excitedly with a beloved toy—

"Soldat."

Oh.

He blinks.

It's over.

He looks up, his eyes focusing on the crowd of people in front of him, Steve's face staring anxiously out at him. He swallows and opens his mouth trying to come up with the words he wants to say. He knows the other words, the words Hydra had taught him, but— but he doesn't want to say those words, and he'd been so focused on the actual triggering sequence that he hadn't thought much about what to do afterwards.

"Hey," he says lamely, and in front of him, Stark lets out a snort of laughter, his hand coming up to his face as Steve's own mouth twitches and he relaxes slightly. Bucky grins and swings his arms a little. "I don't think it worked," he says, his chest light to the point of giddiness. Steve's whole face lights up as he smiles at that, and Natasha and Stark both look pleased as well as they look back at him.

They have to test it, of course, and Bucky takes great pleasure in deliberately stepping backwards when Steve orders him forward (and his pulse hardly even picks up at the thought of disobeying). Natasha has a go at the trigger words after that, and it ends the same way, Bucky gloriously free of any Winter Soldier compulsions.

They don't try the Sputnik trigger, since that is a harder word to neutralise. He'd experimented a little with just saying parts of the word, or saying it really slowly, but it's harder to resist a single word that knocks him out when he hears it. Of course he'd like to be free of all the words, and he'll have to work on that one still… but the most important trigger words… don't seem to have any effect.

"Looks like you're free," Steve tells him, absolutely beaming by the end.

Bucky can't help grinning back at him, his chest swelling with pride and joy as he breathes in. "Yeah," he says, his throat tight and his voice filled with quiet awe.

oOo

Of course, even with the trigger words taken care of, he still doesn't quite feel like he's ready to reach out to Peggy or his sister. He's still… He knows he's still not quite like – well – like a normal person. He still slips up sometimes, thinking about Steve as his handler, or of himself like the Asset, and he still doesn't know if he remembers enough to be the Bucky he wants to be.

He's not even sure if he remembers the Bucky he wants to be.

He seems to be… doing pretty well at it, all things considered. Steve at least, seems content with how things are going (but he also knows that Steve very much doesn't want to pressure him into anything, and that Steve is probably working very hard on that.) But… despite everything, he can't help feeling that he is making progress in the right direction, even if he doesn't exactly know what the end goal is.

Well, he does have one goal, and that is to get himself to a place where he's ready to visit his sister.

So. Trigger words neutralised. The next things he needs to do are talk to Sam about the PTSD thing Steve had been talking about, and… and probably… probably get his own room.

The idea of getting his own room feels strange, since… well, since he's not used to having his own space like that. But Steve had brought it up not long ago, and Stark had also once mentioned to him that he could get his own room at some point. The fact that both of them had talked about it leads him to believe that the arrangement he has with Steve now… isn't exactly normal.

Of course, it makes sense when he thinks about it. Steve's rooms are obviously designed with only one person in mind, which is why Bucky has spent the last few months sleeping on the couch. The other Avengers probably all have their own rooms too, and probably no one would look at him strangely for wanting his own space.

He… part of him honestly would not mind staying in Steve's rooms. He's used to it there, and— and Steve takes care of him there. But of course… that is because Steve used to be his handler, which he is not now, and that means that Bucky is going to need to get used to taking care of himself. The idea is nerve-wracking, since he really doesn't know exactly what that all entails… but if he wants to get used to being Bucky, then he's going to have to figure out what that means.

Also, he doesn't exactly feel ready to talk to Sam yet, so getting a bedroom is his only other option right now.

Yes, he thinks to himself — while also trying not to think of his bedroom as – as a mission. Because it's not. A mission. It's just a goal. He doesn't have missions anymore, because he is a person, and in order to be a person (which is something he wants to do, not a mission), then he needs to get a bedroom.

Yes. That's… that's how that works.


Steve reacts well to his request to get a bedroom. Not that Bucky had really thought that he wouldn't, since Steve had brought the idea up himself. But he doesn't act overly happy at the development, nor does he look too disappointed at the thought of losing Bucky as a roommate, which is relieving.

Actually, his reaction, while pleased, is neutral enough that Bucky half-suspects that it's practiced. Which… well, okay, it doesn't surprise him. Since Steve had brought up moving rooms in the first place, he probably has been preparing for this possibility for a while, and would therefore probably want to be as supportive as possible about it. Hence the careful reaction.

He huffs, because while he's glad Steve wants to support him, it also pretty much guarantees that he has no idea how Steve feels beyond that— which, is so much like Steve that it's ridiculous.

"We'll have to talk to Tony," Steve tells him, bringing his attention to him as he nods his head towards the door of the apartment. "He's probably in his lab."

Somehow, he hadn't been expecting to get a room right away, and he can't help feeling a little stunned as JARVIS confirms Stark's location for them and Steve leads them both down to the elevator. He swallows as they wait for the lift, his mind racing with how fast everything seems to be going.

JARVIS brings the elevator for them and he steps in after Steve, his body shifting automatically to stand at attention as they get inside, as if the pose will somehow calm his racing thoughts. His metal arm whines slightly as he clasps it behind his back, and he rolls his shoulder trying to settle it as the elevator begins to move downward.

Now that he thinks about it, he… probably should have expected his request for a bedroom to be met immediately, but… he finds the idea makes his heart pound a little faster.

Next to him, Steve shifts a little closer. "You okay?" He asks, looking over at him as the elevator continues to descend. "You seem a little nervous."

Bucky blinks at him, because while he's not actually wrong, he hadn't thought he was being particularly obvious. "How'd you know?" He asks instead of answering, and Steve's mouth quirks up at him.

"Your heartbeat," he says, and Bucky raises an eyebrow at him, making Steve smile wider. "I can hear it," he says, looking over him and tapping his ear. "Thanks to my serum. Not all the time of course, or I think I might go nuts… but if I focus, or if I'm high on adrenaline or–" He shrugs a shoulder. "–if people around me have a change in pace, which usually happens if they're nervous."

Bucky huffs out a breath and shakes his head. "That's cheating," he says incredulously, and Steve lets out a chuckle.

"Yeah, well," he casts him an amused glance. "It saved our lives more than once during the war."

Bucky 'hmphs' at him and avoids any other questions about how he feels – nervous or otherwise – because JARVIS opens the elevator doors for them and lets them out into Stark's labs.

"Hey guys," Stark calls as they come in and he steps away from a collection of 3D projections of his Iron Man suit. One of the projections flickers slightly as Bucky looks at it, and it shows a slightly different suit than the others, a title under it reading FUTURE SELF - NANO (?).

"What's up?" Stark asks, drawing Bucky's attention back to him and their reason for coming down. Bucky swallows, his throat suddenly dry, and Steve glances at him, before taking his silence as a cue to speak up.

"Well…" he says, looking at Bucky and then back to Stark. "Bucky and I were wondering if you had a room Bucky can use. You mentioned something about that before."

"Oh." Tony blinks, obviously a little surprised by the request, and he shrugs. "Yeah, of course," he says, glancing at Bucky. "You can go wherever you want in the Tower, but there should be a room at the end of Steve's hall if you want something closer."

There's a beat of silence, where Bucky just stares at him, and then– "There's a what?" Steve's surprised tone reflects his own feelings, and he looks over at him along with Stark.

Stark squints at him for a second before glancing between the two of them, a gleam in his eyes. "Well…" he starts off slowly. "Y'know, you can fit more than one room on a floor..." His mouth quirks up, seemingly amused at the fact that neither of them seem to have noticed anything beyond their own door on their floor. "I did think about giving one floor to each Avenger, but Pepper convinced me not to."

Steve huffs at that, and then proceeds to tell Stark how that sentiment is pointless because he had given each Avenger their own floor anyways, a fact which Stark vehemently protests, since apparently Sam and Thor both technically share the same floor.

"Just cuz he's not here doesn't mean it doesn't count," he insists, waving a hand. "Besides, I think Clint's moved part time into the room next to Natasha anyways."

Bucky stays silent through most of their discussion, finding that the friendly debate helps calm his nerves a little about the whole 'getting a bedroom thing'. Steve and Stark eventually seem to agree to disagree on whether or not Steve should have already known about the room next to him, and Stark waves them away, with a few parting words.

"Don't move in anywhere until JARVIS can get a better mattress," he says, glancing up at him. "I'm assuming you'll probably want one like Steve's." Bucky agrees easily to that, because while he hasn't slept on any softer mattresses, he hadn't had trouble sleeping on Steve's that one time, so it's probably a safe bet to go with a harder one.

They leave after that, and Steve seems in good spirits as the elevator carries them back up to their floor. Bucky settles easily next to him, a little more relaxed now that the initial request is over, and he gives an absentminded roll of his shoulder, the joint creaking as he moves.

JARVIS lets them off once the elevator stops, and as one, he and Steve turn their heads as they get out, looking down the hall. Sure enough, at the very end of the hall, Bucky can just make out another door. "Oh that," Steve says, letting out a breath, seemingly relieved that the room isn't super obvious. "I thought it was a maintenance closet or something."

Bucky doesn't say anything. He can honestly say that he had never thought about what that room could be, because he hadn't seen it before. As the Asset he hadn't been concerned with much on this floor besides his handler's room, so he'd had no reason to go looking around. The thought feels kind of ridiculous now, because even as the Asset, he probably should have been paying closer attention to his surroundings.

To be fair, for a while he'd been rather distracted by the fact that his handler was letting him into his room at all… and now… he's getting a room for himself. The thought still feels strange, and a little frightening, so when Steve suggests that they check the room out, all he does is nod.

Steve casts a searching glance his way as they head down the hall, and he puts his hands in his pockets. "You know Buck," he says, his eyes looking straight ahead when Bucky glances at him. "Even if you get your own room, that doesn't mean you're kicked out of mine. My door's always open."

Bucky blinks at him, and blushes slightly as he realises that Steve must have picked up on some of his apprehension (hearing heartbeats is so cheating). "Yeah, okay," he says quietly, part of him feeling ridiculous. The reason he'd wanted to get a room in the first place is because he'd hoped it would help him be more like a person, but he's pretty sure that most people don't get so nervous about this kind of thing.

It can't be helped though, and a kernel of unease continues to sit in his stomach as Steve opens the door to the second room and they step inside. The apartment turns out to be a mirror of Steve's own. The kitchen is on the right this time, and the bedroom and bathroom are switched, but the living room has the same basic TV, bookshelf and couch setup as Steve's does, and Bucky can't help finding the familiar surroundings a little comforting.

"You'll probably have to clean it a little," Steve comments, his eyes flicking over the scene. "But once we do that, and Tony gets a new mattress, you should be good to move in."

He nods quietly at that.


They start cleaning the next day. It's obvious that someone must have come in periodically to keep the room from falling into neglect, but there is still plenty of dusting and airing out that needs to be done before he can move it, and the job keeps them busy for several hours.

Bucky's arm whines quietly as he wipes down the windows in the living room and he shoots it a glance before he gets distracted by Steve's chuckling from the kitchen. "This brings back memories," he says, sounding amused as he wipes down the counter. Bucky looks over at him with a raised eyebrow and Steve shakes his head, grinning. "Cleaning used to be one of the only real defenses against germs," he says, going over to the sink to rinse out his cloth. "We cleaned a lot."

Bucky finds his mouth quirking up at the thought and he turns back to the windows, moving his rag down to wipe the sills.

"We didn't even have vacuum cleaners," Steve gripes from the kitchen, and Bucky's grin widens.


The cleaning helps a little to make the rooms seem more like his, but the thought still feels mindboggling and slightly daunting. And he finds himself in the bedroom— his bedroom— wiping down the desk that will soon be his desk, opening and closing the drawers that will soon be his drawers for him to use and put his stuff in and— and he doesn't know how to feel.

He really shouldn't be this nervous about getting a room. There is no reason for him to camp out on Steve's couch when there is an empty room literally next door, because Steve isn't his handler anymore and he isn't the Asset and— and he's allowed to have his own room.

But… but it feels like so much. He's not used to owning things. Even his weapons aren't technically his. The very few things he has that are actually his he has been hoarding carefully in his dresser, paranoid for the longest time that someone would one day come take them away.

But of course, no one will, because he's not the Asset.

His metal arm lets out a quiet whine as he brings it up and runs his hand over the smooth wood of the desk in front of him. With a desk he won't need to hide his journals and pens away in his dresser. He will actually have a place to sit down and write. There is a window by his desk, just like Steve's, and if he sits there, he can look out into the city, just to… just to look—

His door opens and he's startled out of his day dreaming, his mind and his hand going back to the math homework he's supposed to be working on. He glances behind himself to see who it is, and he blinks in surprise as he sees Hannah entering, her hair bouncing in twin pigtails as she walks over.

She grins at him as she comes to stand next to his chair, her hand behind her back. "Guess what?" She says, bobbing excitedly on her toes and not waiting for him to answer. "We had art at school today! I maked you somethin' all by myself."

She whips her hand out from behind her back and proudly holds it out to him, her grin showing off the gap in her teeth. He shifts forward to see what she has, and balanced on her palm is a pinecone that has been rather messily painted blue.

"Well, look'at this," he says fondly, his face breaking out into a smile as he reaches for it.

Hannah beams up at him. "We got to go outside to collect the cones," she tells him as he makes a show of turning over the gift to see it in all it's glory. "I made it blue cuz that's your favourite colour—

Something clatters from outside the room, and Bucky blinks, focusing back on the desk in front of him. It's different, of course, from the desk that he'd had in the flashback, but he finds himself smiling as he thinks it over. He's… he's pretty sure that that had been his first flashback that he had remembered Hannah in all by himself, and then—

He lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head. He'd thought, hadn't he, that blue was an important colour. Natasha had asked him once what his favourite colour had been, and he had said blue because it had been important… and all this time it had actually truly been his favourite colour.

Somehow, the knowledge that something so small and simple could still be the same after everything — could still be the same even when he had been the Asset — well… it helps, a little.

oOo

Of course, once his mattress arrives and he can actually move in to his new room, he's still rather apprehensive. He tries to keep it on the down low though — and if his heartbeat is irregular, Steve doesn't mention it. He doesn't have a lot of stuff to actually move, mostly just his dresser, and for the first trip, he and Steve grab a drawer each and make their way down the hall.

"This'll make carrying the actual dresser easier," Steve says as they walk, and Bucky nods. He's pretty sure they're both strong enough to carry the thing, but he'd rather not risk dropping it. They make it to the room, and he swallows, his throat tight as Steve pushes open the door with his hip and they step in.

The sun is shining in through the windows in the living room, filling the room with a warm inviting light as they step inside, but Bucky is distracted away from it as they step past the kitchen, his eyes straying to something square and black left out on the counter.

It's a laptop, and on top of it sits a StarkPhone and some cords. Stuck on top of everything is a little green sticky note with the words Have Fun, scrawled on it in messy letters. He stops dead as he stares at it, and Steve stops as well, glancing back at him before his eyes drop to the counter. "Oh," he says, a note of surprise in his voice. "Tony must have left this for you when your mattress came."

Bucky nods, stunned, his mind spinning as Steve shrugs, lifting his drawer a little before turning to continue down to the living room. "It's a good idea," he says. "Most people have a phone and stuff nowadays. If you need help setting it up, I can show you."

He nods again as he follows Steve into his bedroom, still trying to wrap his mind around the gift he had been given. Journals and pens are one thing but— but a phone… He really really isn't the Asset anymore.

In front of him, Steve sets his drawer down onto his bed, the movement jostling some of the clothes within, and revealing the dark handle of a handgun. Steve raises an eyebrow and turns to him as Bucky moves to set down his own drawer. "You know…" He says slowly, his eyes flicking over the drawers. "It'd probably be a good idea to get a gun safe for these or something." He waves his hand over the drawers. "Keeping weapons loose like that is a little dangerous."

Bucky blinks at him, before flushing slightly. Of course most people don't hide their weapons among their things like they're afraid of them getting stolen. "Yeah," he gets out, tugging on his shirt. "That'd probably be a good idea."

Steve flicks his eyes over him, his gaze searching. "You alright?" He asks gently, obviously picking up a little on Bucky's internal conflict.

Bucky takes in a breath and nods. "Yeah," he says, a bit stronger this time, glancing around the room. "Yeah, it's just… just a lot."

He shrugs lamely at that, but Steve seems to get it. "No kidding," he says, his mouth breaking into a crooked smile as he turns to head back. "You should have seen me when I first moved in. These rooms are twice the size of our old apartment."

Bucky can't remember much about their old apartment— size or otherwise— but he finds himself smiling anyways at Steve's comment, his metal arm creaking slightly as he loosens his shoulders and follows Steve out of the room.


He brings in the third and final drawer (the most important one, with his journals, pens, pictures, and Stark's glove) before he and Steve get to work on moving the dresser itself.

"Good thing this can fit through the door," Steve comments from the front, his voice slightly strained as they carefully work on maneuvering it out into the hallway. "Else we'd have to take it apart and rebuild it."

Bucky grunts and nods, his arm letting out an unhappy whine as they carefully angle the dresser so that it doesn't scrape against the doorway. It's a lot easier once they get into the hall, and he and Steve make good time until they get to the next doorway.

"One more after this," Steve says as he shifts his grip a little and takes a slow step backwards. Bucky follows him into the room, careful not to move too fast for Steve and trying to resist the urge to roll his shoulder and reset the joint of his metal arm. It definitely doesn't appreciate the heavy load.

They make it through the door to his bedroom and finally move to set the thing down by the wall across from his bed, lowering it down slowly so that they don't drop it. "Alright, I'll let go of my side first," Steve tells him, kneeling across from him with his shoulder braced against the dresser.

Bucky nods intently, his metal arm letting out a low growl as Steve shifts his weight and drops his end to the ground. Bucky's weight shifts in response, and he lifts his right hand up to push against the dresser so that he can carefully let go of his end too—

His breath catches and it takes him a second to even register the sharp, irritated groan that emits from his metal arm as he moves to lift his hand away. The dresser settles with a thud, but he hardly notices because his arm lets out a high, thin shriek of grinding parts, and then promptly locks down.

He lets out a gasp of pain and instinctively grabs at his arm, the metal completely paralyzed in its half-bent position. Of course, grabbing it only jostles everything, causing sparks of pain to shoot up into his shoulder and down his spine.

His vision swims, and he lets out a groan low in his throat, his breath coming out in strained gasps as his arm becomes a sudden deadweight against his shoulder. He'd forgotten just how heavy it is when he isn't busy holding it up, and now that it's frozen, the whole weight of it hangs off him, accompanied by a slow burning sensation that spreads out through his shoulder joint and up his neck.

A hand touches his knee, and he jumps, his teeth clashing together as he holds back a yelp, regretting immediately how he jerks his head up to look beside him. Steve is kneeling next to him, his face creased with worry and his hands hovering uncertainly over him. "Bucky, what's wrong?"

A wave of nausea crashes over him and his head dips forward as he swallows, needles of pain crawling at the edges of his prosthetic. "Hurts," he grits out, a headache beginning to form behind his eyes. He tries to breathe in, and the movement draws a thin whimper from him, the nerves in his shoulder withering around and screaming like a mass of electrocuted worms.

Steve is talking to him again, but he finds he can't exactly focus on his words, his brain muddled and slow as he tries to find some way to breathe with out sparking a new round of pain. He sways slightly, and Steve lays his hand on his back — not his arm — to support him, his face angled towards the ceiling now as he speaks.

It's… probably a good thing that he's here. Bucky can barely handle forming two coherent thoughts in a row between the waves of pain from his shoulder. The pain is mind-numbingly consuming, and if his han— if Steve wasn't here then he'd probably be stuck, curled up in a ball of pain because it hurts so much

"Bucky." Steve's hands are on his face, and he hadn't realised he'd closed his eyes until he has to open them to look at him. "Buck," Steve says, his gaze intense. "JARVIS has called Tony and Bruce, they're going to meet us in med-bay to look at your arm, we just gotta stand up now."

He stares, because he can't remember what part of that sentence he's supposed to respond to, and his vision slides away as his handl— Steve presses his lips together. "We're going to stand now," he says tightly, rocking forward slightly and gripping Bucky's right arm. "You gotta get up Bucky."

Stand. Yes. Yes. He can do that. He— he can do that. He grits his teeth and leans his weight forward, Steve leaning back slightly and supporting his weight, his friend very carefully not touching his left one as he works on pulling them both up.

Black spots fill Bucky's vision and he sways against Steve, his breath coming in harsh pants as pain fireworks through his shoulder and a muffled whine makes its way out of his throat. He finds himself trying to clamp down on the sound, cringing slightly because he's not supposed to— not supposed to—

Sweat drips down his back and hands guide him forward as his mind muddles around in a fog. He takes a step, his ears buzzing as he grips the arm holding him for dear life, trying to keep his knees from buckling under him. The floor seems to move under his feet, but the arm under his, and the hand at his back keeps him upright, a voice whispering soothing, but incomprehensible words in his ear as they make their way painstakingly out of the room.

He's leaning heavily against his handl— Steve once they get to the elevator, his jaw clenched tight as his arm hangs off him, pulling and pulling at his shoulder and dragging a headache to the forefront of his brain. At one point, he forgets himself and tries to lift his arm, trying to ease some of the weight pulling on his shoulder, but that move makes him actually weak in the knees with pain, and he spends the rest of the trip down to med-bay swallowing back waves of nausea.

He doesn't actually remember getting out of the elevator. His eyes close for a moment and he bites back a groan when his head falls forward, and then he looks up to find himself being guided towards a bed in a white room, two other people— Stark and— and Bruce, yes— coming over to him.

He can't hold back a whimper as his handl— Stev— his handle— —He flinches as they get to the bed, a strangled noise catching in his throat as he gets sat down. His thoughts are muddied and slow and decidedly unhelpful as he clutches at Stev— his handle— —Pain shoots up his arm and he stiffens, his breath hissing between his teeth as he pants.

"You're safe, it's okay," Hand— Steve is saying as he pushes him back into a semi-leaning position on the bed. One of the other men— agents— Stark, is piling pillows under his metal arm to try to hold the weight of it, and the Asse— Bucky tries not to flinch away from him, his vision spinning as he looks up towards the ceiling.

There are hands on his face and he manages to look over at Steve, straining to focus on the words coming out of his mouth. "—going to look at it, okay? But Bruce is going to do something for the pain—"

His arm, or maybe it's his shoulder, he can't quite tell right now, but one of them takes the chance to spasm, and his vision whites out, cutting off whatever else his handler— Steve had been saying. By the time the pain has ebbed enough for him to see again, someone— Bruce is next to him, a concentrated expression on his face as he wipes down Bucky's right hand with an alcohol wipe.

Oh yes, he knows— knows what this is. IVs, he's done IVs before, he— Pain knifes up his shoulder and he can't swallow down a moan in response. He presses his lips together, trying to keep the sound in as his back arches, but he's certain they've heard and— and he's not supposed to—

"This is taking too long." His handler's voice is clear above everything else and he tries not to flinch, his eyes darting about as he tries to find him. What is taking too long? Is he supposed to be doing something? What—

Hands are on his face again, and his eyes dart up to fixate on a pair of blue looking down on him.

"Sputnik," his handler says, and the world fades to blissful black.


AN: So Bucky continues to try to navigate his newfound personhood. You can tell that he wants to, but his motivation for doing it is a little scrambled, making him more anxious than necessary.

And then of course, his arm acts up and causes a whole new problem…

I thought the Sputnik trigger word would be harder to learn to resist, since it's just one word, and Bucky passes out when he hears it.

Also, next week I will be posting my chapter on Tuesday instead of Wednesday, because I am going camping. This means that I will not be able to reply to any comments until I get back.