Well my fellow readers, I apologize once more for not updating sooner. I will not give an excuse because you deserve better! So without further ado, here is the next chapter! I hope you like it! I was trying to capture the awkwardness and uncertainty of Steve and Bucky's new relationship without losing their old bond. It was more difficult than I imagined but I got through it! Anyways, I'm sorry again but thank you for everyone who has stuck around! Please let me know what you think, I love to read your thoughts! :D

"Do you remember little Annie from down the street?"

"You…started a fight because someone…Billy? Yeah, he pushed her in the mud and got her new dress dirty…"

"Well, I was talking about how you had a crush on her-"

"And you nearly went to the hospital because he beat you so badly. And I…" Bucky trailed off, looking down. He blinked, trying to fit the memories in place. Steve smiled and leaned back in his chair. They were sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee and going over memories. Bucky wanted to know what was truth and what was lies. So far, it had all been true. Even the nightmares.

"You knocked Billy out with one punch and then turned on me, calling me a-"

"Punk."

"Yep," Steve chuckled. "That was your nickname for me."

"Nickname? More like a literal description. Your punk a** was always getting into trouble and I had to get you out of it," Bucky retorted.

"Jerk." Bucky blinked and his lips twitched. He shook his head in exasperation and he almost rolled his eyes. Steve smiled, taking a sip of coffee.

"These memories are different than the others," Bucky said.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked. His attitude immediately changed from nostalgic to concerned. Bucky looked off to the side.

"They're fuzzy…the other ones are sharp, clear. These…they have a fog around them and I feel like I'm missing a lot."

"It's gonna take time, Buck. Cut yourself a break."

"Did you?"

"What?" Steve asked, surprised.

"Did you give yourself a break when you woke up?" Bucky questioned. He stared at Steve, who fidgeted under his gaze. No, he had not given himself a break. But it was different.

"I was in a different situation. I had a job to do right after I was unfrozen," Steve said. Bucky continued to stare at him, though something flickered in his eyes. The phone ringing saved Steve from any more explanations.

"Hello?"

"Glad to hear you're still alive."

"Hey, Sam."

"So what are you and psycho-killer up to? Rehashing old memories?"

"Basically. And just working through stuff. Speaking of which, I should probably go…"

"Well, have fun being old men together. And don't forget your walker."

"Bye, Sam," Steve snorted. He heard the line click and set the phone down, turning back to Bucky. He paled.

Bucky was standing, fists clenched at his temples with his eyes closed shut. His whole body seemed to be trembling. Steve opened his mouth to say something but his voice was gone. Was he reliving a nightmare like last night? Steve had woken in the middle of the night to Sarge hissing and running throughout the apartment. He'd run to the couch where Bucky had decided to sleep and nearly been suffocated with a cushion. Steve was able to talk Bucky out of the nightmare and everyone calmed down. They eventually went back to bed but no one had really slept.

Bucky stopped trembling. He turned to Steve with dead eyes.

"I…have a job…you-you are my mission, my job," Bucky said, before he lunged. Steve reacted quickly and grabbed Bucky's left arm, pulling him off balance. With his left hand, he hit a sensitive spot on Bucky's back. Bucky had expected the move and didn't even grunt in pain. They rolled on the floor, wrestling each other to get the upper hand. Eventually – somehow – Steve was able to wrap his arms around Bucky from behind in a bear hug.

"Come on, Buck! This isn't you!"

Bucky tried to break free of Steve's vice lock.

"Bucky!"

Steve felt a heel slam into his shin and he winced. He didn't let go. He wouldn't let go.

"Come on, Bucky! Fight it!"

Bucky struggled more but it was getting weaker. Steve kept his arm lock strong, despite the kicks to his shin or gut. Bucky tried throwing his head back but Steve moved his to the side and down to Bucky's shoulder. It was harder to hit with force this way and there was no way Steve was going to rear back. That would make it easier for Bucky to escape.

Eventually, Bucky stopped. They were both breathing heavily. Steve kept his arms around Bucky, waiting for something to show that Bucky had come out of it. Should he say something or wait? Steve had no idea.

"There was a girl…in a little blue dress…" Bucky croaked. Steve froze.

"She…she had green eyes…big green eyes…Her dress was purple…after I killed her…" Steve closed his eyes.

"Her parents were diplomats…a job…a mission…she got in the way and…and I killed her…I killed her…" Bucky slumped in Steve's arms. Steve loosened his grip but kept Bucky in his arms.

"Buck…" Steve didn't know what to say. It wasn't your fault? You might've pulled the trigger but Hydra made you? Everything sounded fake and useless to his ears.

"I'm sorry, Bucky," Steve whispered. Because there was nothing to say. To take a life was no easy burden. Steve had taken many lives since he'd become a soldier, as much as he tried not to. He remembered all of them. It was hell every time he remembered them. It was so much worse for Bucky. Every memory was new yet old. Not to mention he had been under Hydra's control. Who know what they made him do? Bucky shuddered in Steve's arms as he tried to hold back from sobbing.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Bucky."

It was all Steve could say as his best friend wept.

Voices floated from the TV as the two men sat on the couch. It was a car show. Something simple. Non-threatening. Steve hadn't thought about all the crime or action packed shows when he'd turned the TV on. He'd just wanted to give Bucky a distraction after the memory.

Bucky hadn't said a word.

Memories. They were all memories. Steve didn't want to believe all the rumors about the Winter Soldier. Now he had no choice. And it killed him to think Bucky had to relive them to remember who he was. Every. Single. Memory. Every kill, every mission, every wipe. There were so many questions that Steve had. But now…he wasn't sure if he wanted to know them. But, he wanted Bucky to share his pain with someone. And right now, Steve was the only person Bucky trusted. No, scratch that. There were two. Amy. She'd come up a lot in Steve's thoughts in the last couple of hours. Had Bucky experienced memories like this with her? How had she handled it? Had she lied when she told them he hadn't hurt her?

Steve sighed. His mind liked to ask questions. Too many questions. He rubbed his head, feeling a headache coming on. I wonder if Charlie has any home remedies for-

"Disney."

"What?" Steve said, jumping slightly. He'd been too lost in thought to recognize what was on TV. An ad for a new Disney movie was playing and it had caught Bucky's attention. A young boy with black hair was trying to put armor on a…humanoid marshmallow? Steve turned to Bucky.

"Disney…that's familiar," Bucky ground out. The pieces fell into place and Steve shook off his worries, for the moment.

"Yeah. Yeah, they um – they came out with their first movie when I was nineteen. 1937 I think."

"Did we see it? Or was it too much money?" Bucky asked. He finally turned and looked at Steve. The battle warring behind his blue eyes was nearly tangible.

"We did. Actually we saw it with my mom on her birthday-"

"You surprised her…made her cry."

"Yeah…I did that a lot," Steve chuckled. He could remember that day clearly. The look in his mother's eyes when Steve had handed her the tickets would keep him afloat when she died three months later. Her eyes had sparkled with happy tears as she crushed him in a hug. Steve blinked, realizing he'd stared off into space. Bucky was watching him.

"What was it called?" he asked softly.

"Snow White and the Seven Dwarves," Steve said. "I think I have it actually. Do you wanna watch it?" He didn't wait for an answer but got up to look for it. If he remembered correctly, it was one of the movies Natasha had given him when she'd given him his VCR player. She thought having a movie as old as Steve would be funny. Turned out to be more sentimental. Steve found it in his cupboard next to his three other VCRs. He still needed to watch those. Steve held it up for Bucky to see and Bucky nodded. He stuck it in the VCR, changing the TV from cable to video 1. As he hit play, Sarge jumped on the back of the couch, growling. He flicked his tail at Steve and hopped into Bucky's lap. There was the slightest twitch to Bucky's brow and he glanced at Steve. He shrugged. He didn't control the cat.

They watched the movie in silence but Steve could feel the tension slowly ease out of Bucky's stance. It wasn't noticeable on the outside, not really. But Steve knew. He knew because Bucky was his best friend and no matter how many times HYRDA tried to erase him, they hadn't erased his habits and mannerisms. Like, the slight lip twitch was gone which meant he wasn't as on edge as before. His legs hadn't moved so he was still upset, but no lip twitching was something. Bucky's lip always used to twitch when he saw the Murphy brothers, even if they were on the other side of the street. The Murphy brothers loved to beat Steve up. They used to laugh at him – that is, until Bucky showed up.

Steve was so lost in the memory that he didn't realize the movie had ended. Bucky glanced at him but didn't move. It wasn't until Sarge jumped off of Bucky's lap that Steve realized the movie was done.

"Your mom…" Bucky said, voice hoarse. "It was the last birthday we spent with her, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. She died three months later from tuberculosis. She was a nurse in a tuberculosis ward. I don't think she ever thought she'd catch it." Steve looked at his hands. It had been one of the hardest times in his life. Until the war.

"No one did. We all thought it would be you."

"Yeah," Steve mumbled. He could still see the sadness and panic in his mother's eyes when she was dying. Even in her last moments, she had been worried about him.

"Wait, you don't feel guilty for her death, do you?" Bucky asked.

"What? No – I mean, not really – it's just. It should have been me."

Bucky glared at him. Steve sighed, not wanting to admit something that had been buried for years.

"Maybe if I had been better, actually held a job, she wouldn't have had to work in that ward. I wasn't an easy kid…always getting into fights…not to mention my medical record. If it wasn't for the tuberculosis, I would have worn her down until she died of exhaustion-"

"No."

Steve blinked at Bucky's harsh tone. His stare held Steve in place and it was like they were back in Brooklyn about to go down an alleyway. Bucky would always grab Steve before he charged in to help someone, always telling him one simple word. No.

"Buck…It was a long time ago-"

"Your mom didn't work that hard because she had to. She did it because she loved you."

"I know that but I could've made it easier on her," Steve argued. Bucky didn't say anything for a while. Steve stood up and put away the VHS, turning everything off in the process.

"Did you take the serum because of her?" Bucky asked. Steve shook his head and shrugged.

"No. I hated bullies and wanted to help our country fight some of the worst bullies out there. I guess…a part of it was that I never wanted to be a burden to someone like that ever again. When Dr. Erskine offered the serum, it was my best option. You were gone, and it wasn't like anyone was waiting for me at home so what did I have to lose?" Steve said.

"Everything," Bucky deadpanned. Before Steve could respond, Bucky turned and got the blanket and pillow from behind the couch. Steve took that as his cue to leave and started getting ready for bed.

Steve didn't fall asleep for a while, his thoughts keeping him awake. He hadn't thought of his mother for a long time. It was just easier not to. In his mind, nine years had passed since his mother's death but it hadn't gotten much easier. His mom had been all he had besides Bucky. His dad had died in WWI before he was born, he'd never met his grandparents from Ireland…his mom was the only family he had. And she was gone. Just like Peggy. Just like Bucky. Maybe that's what kept him up tonight. Because as much as it hurt, Bucky would never be the same man again. He was still there, under layers and layers of nightmares. Steve knew Bucky would eventually become more like he used to be but it would never be like it was. Steve would never be like he used to either. They had both seen too much, done too much to be the men they used to be. They had changed. And Steve didn't know what to do about it.

Eventually, he fell asleep. It was one of those weird dreams where at first, nothing makes sense. For some reason there was an old man that looked like the witch from Snow White fixing his bike while he ate one of Charlie's cinnamon rolls. Nothing made sense. Until the dream morphed into a memory. He was running on a battlefield and they were being pelted with shells. There was a man in front of him with black hair peeking out from under his helmet. He shouted something but Steve couldn't hear anything. There was a red cross on his helmet. Steve ducked, looking to the side. A gun was pointed at them. Steve shoved the man in front of him to the side, earning a graze to the shoulder and dirt in the face. He looked up shouting the man's name.

There was blood.

So much blood.

The man was gone. There was a landmine and he – blood everywhere – the man gone – blood on him – the red cross – not his blood – he'd pushed him to his death. But he was trying to save him…

Someone was shaking him, pushing on his chest – no clawing –

With a violent jolt, Steve gasped awake to find Sarge hissing in his face, claws embedded in his chest. It was hard to breathe. Was he in his room or still on the battlefield? He blinked rapidly, his breathing raspy. Not caring about the scratches, he pulled Sarge off of him and set him on the bed. He stood shakily and blinked some more. The images weren't going away. He could still see the medic in front of him. Had he ever learned his name? Blood. Everywhere. Steve took two deep breaths, trying to calm himself down but it wasn't working.

He wasn't there.

But it felt like it.

He wasn't there.

So why could he still see blood?

Steve stumbled forward – anywhere – to get away from the images. And stepped on his shield. His shin erupted in pain as his shield slammed into him. He swore. Loudly and colorfully.

"So the army did teach you how to swear," a voice said from the doorway. Steve whipped his head up, still clutching his shin to find Bucky. How had he not heard him? And…had Bucky heard everything?

"Buck," Steve gasped. "Sorry I woke you."

"Never fell asleep." Steve didn't know how to answer so he didn't. Plus his shin hurt like hell. He sat down, back against the bed.

"Now you know how much that frisbee hurts," Bucky said, sitting down beside him. Steve choked out a laugh.

"Yeah, well…" he didn't have a comeback. His mind was too jumbled from his nightmare and too preoccupied with the pain in his leg. At least it was easier to breathe. A little. Bucky didn't say anything and didn't even look at him much. He stared at the ground. Steve glanced at him from the corner of his eye and was thrown back to 1940. Bucky would always find Steve after a scolding and just sit with him. Neither one said anything but Bucky was always there. Just there. Some things never change, Steve thought. Sarge growled from the bed and plopped down in between the two men. Steve stroked his fur as Sarge glared at him. He was a weird cat.

"So what did you remember this time?" Bucky asked quietly.

"That's supposed to be my line," Steve said, offering a smile. Bucky raised an eyebrow. Steve sighed and shook his head. Melvin.

"Do you remember Melvin Mickey?" Steve blurted. Bucky's brow furrowed.

"The medic?"

"Yeah."

"He was with us up until…oh…" Bucky trailed off and they fell into silence. They had told Steve it wasn't his fault. He'd been trying to protect the guy. No one could have known there was a landmine only steps away from them. But Steve had insisted on writing the letter. He sent home the dog tags they'd found two days later, at his insistence. They told him it wasn't his fault. But it was.

"Melvin Mickey. What an awful name."

"What?" Steve looked at Bucky, brow furrowed.

"That name. We gave him hell for it. Used to sing the Mickey Mouse theme song whenever he walked by," Bucky responded, the ghost of a smile on his face.

"That's right. He used to call us moth-"

"Ah ah ah. Or that's money in the swear jar," Bucky interrupted.

"My mother's swear jar! I'd forgotten about that," Steve chuckled. "And you were the one who always swore but blamed it on me!"

"Yeah right, punk."

"Jerk."

They fell into an easy silence. Sarge grumbled once more before falling asleep in between the two men.

So...what do you think? Sorry if the ending was choppy, I couldn't for the life of me find the right words.