Something was wrong.
Bucky couldn't put his finger on it. Not at first. It started as soon as he opened his eyes, already white-knuckling the bedsheets. Maybe he just hadn't slept well, or maybe his body was still achy from training yesterday. Still, it was hard to shake the unease from his shoulders as he started his day.
He was currently staying in a 3 bedroom apartment with Steve and Sam. Steve never really settled back into the tower, and Sam said that he wasn't giving up a quieter life. Bucky complained about being so near to them all the time, but it wasn't so bad in reality.
Hopefully, someday, he might get his own place. Right now, that wasn't possible, simply because of days like this one. Days where his brain malfunctioned and snapped him back to a different time.
He grabbed a plum from the kitchen, slicing it in his hand on his way back to his room. He wanted *something * to eat before training. They didn't feed him before training in HYDRA. You earned your meal. And even if you did well, you were lucky if you got solid food. A lot of his nutrients were provided intravenously. It wasn't good to be hungry while training, though, so he had to stay on his toes. Any creak of the floorboards, or hinge of a cell, or footsteps-
Footsteps.
There were footsteps behind him.
He was quick, already in the mindset. He spun, knife aimed at the throat of his assailant. He lunged forward. Adrenaline flowed through his veins and his blood roared in his ears. The deafening noise stopped however, when he was slammed against the wall.
Steve.
"Hey, hey, Buck." His voice was cautious, like he was calming a dangerous animal. And, to be fair -at least in some sense- he was. "Put down the knife."
Bucky's eyes slowly went to his right hand. Steve had pinned it out straight to the wall, keeping the weapon away from either of them. He glanced back at Steve.
Why did everything seem so slow all of the sudden? So foggy?
Eventually his fingers loosened their grip and the knife clattered to the floor.
"Are you alright?"
Bucky blinked. His ears were ringing. Why was it so loud? He nodded, and Steve released his grip. Bucky looked down. His plum had slipped from his grasp, the red juice dripping off his metal fingertips. It looked familiar. It looked too much like-
"Hey." Bucky snapped out of his daze at Steve's voice. "Are you okay?"
Bucky hesitated. "I…" His thoughts felt muffled in his own head, far away and hard to form. "I dropped my plum."
It was a stupid thing to be worried about. But it was an easy thing to be worried about. It was easier than 'I thought you were attacking me.' or 'I thought I'd killed again.'. Easier than 'I was back there, just now.'. So Bucky let his brain take the easy way out. He wasn't sure he had the energy for anything else.
Steve laughed. It helped. That was a familiar sound, one so embedded in his soul that even decades of mind control couldn't take it from Bucky. He knew it.
"If you come on a run with me to clear your head, we can stop and get a whole new bag. Deal?"
Bucky nodded. It might be good to take his mind off of things. Getting fresh air was always nice.
"Good. Sam's already waiting outside. We didn't think you'd be up yet." Steve didn't care about the run. That wasn't what he meant. But Bucky understood.
You're safe. You're home. No one is here to harm you.
"You gonna be alright?" Steve looked at his friend.
Bucky responded with a small smile. "Yeah. I will." He took a deep breath, shaking fog from his head. A coy grin crossed his face as he raised an important question.
"Hey, how many times do you think we can lap Sam?"