Chapter Five

Steve awoke with his head on Bucky's chest.

Again.

He really didn't know how he had managed it this time. It would have involved him someone getting across the freezing stone floor and onto the thermopack, wrapping the blanket around both of them, and then entwining his legs with Bucky's own - while asleep.

Steve winced as he swallowed. The gel must have worn off during the night. He pulled his legs up, untangling them from Bucky's. Then came the hard part; Bucky's metal arm was thrown over him, tucking him effectively against the super soldier's chest. Steve wiggled uncomfortably, shifting downwards. He didn't want to wake Bucky, but after the last time he found himself in this situation he wasn't above it. Steve shifted lower, squeezing out from under Bucky's arm. He held his breath as he waited for Bucky to wake up. The soldier grumbled, shifting in his sleep, but didn't wake. Steve smiled, pushing himself up and padding over to the pile of boxes Bucky had been rummaging through the night before.

"Where are you?" Steve muttered as he opened the box as quietly as he could. Which box had Bucky taken the medicine from? He couldn't remember. Steve shuddered as a breath of cold air made goosebumps break out across his exposed skin. He looked mournfully back at the warm blanket wrapped around Bucky, but as he took a breath, he was quickly reminded why he was there. Steve turned away, irritated with himself for getting distracted. "Where is it?" He growled as he reached the bottom of the box.

"This?"

Steve yelped in surprise, whirling around. Bucky smirked in amusement, holding out the bottle of medicine. Steve sighed in relief as he seized it from Bucky's fingers.

"Where was it?" he asked as he uncapped it and squeezed a generous dollop onto his fingers.

"Your pack," Bucky said calmly, leaning against the stone wall, "I thought you might need it." He watched Steve warily as he applied the goo to his throat, "Does it hurt?"

"Not now," Steve sighed in relief as the pleasant buzz of numbness set in, his eyes flickering shut. He opened them in time to see guilt flash across Bucky's face, though it was gone before he could say anything.

Bucky stepped away from him and returned to the warm comfort of his bed, wrapping the blanket around himself. "Care to join me?" He asked, a note of laughter in his voice.

Steve didn't even dignify that with an answer, though he could feel heat flushing his neck and cheeks red. "Think the storm's over?" He asked instead. Bucky scowled at him grumpily as he pushed off the blanket and vanished into the tunnel leading outside. He reappeared a moment later, shaking his head and stalking back to his bed. Steve watched with amusement as Bucky climbed into the thermopack, taking his blanket with him and leaving it just unzipped enough to stick his head out.

Steve sighed as he returned to the cold thermopack and laid down.
"So we just wait?" He asked and Bucky nodded, a grim expression on his face as the clunk of hailstones against rock began to sound above them.

The storm lasted for three days. Each day Bucky began to get more and more restless. He began to train with practiced efficiency, lifting himself up using the edge of the cave entrance, doing one armed pushups and a crazy line up of ridiculous exercises Steve couldn't even begin to name.

On the third day, the storm abated enough that they were able to leave. Bucky pushed the rock open easily, ignoring the sound of mutilated metal. Steve grimaced as he saw the layers of snow outside, but Bucky didn't blink an eye, slogging into the thigh high snow as if it were every day that one trudged through snow that went up to Steve's waist. Steve followed in his wake, shivering through the three jackets and one blanket they had managed to scrounge up from the crates. The cold pack came in handy that night, and the next, but by the time they were a day's travel outside the nearest city, they were back to scorching heat and afternoon rests.

"We don't need to buy new rations in the city," Steve sighed as he finished going through his pack, "I think we have enough with the fruit we took from the compound." They were sitting on a high rise off of the path and Steve was taking inventory of what they would need. Bucky grunted, though from pain or acknowledgment, Steve wasn't sure. He pressed his lips together unhappily as Bucky tightened the damp cloth wrapped around his hand. He knew how painful those burns could be, but by the time he had thought to warn Bucky about touching the rocks, the soldier was already cupping his hand against his chest in surprised pain.

"What do we need?" Bucky asked as he made to put his mask back on. Steve watched him hesitantly. He would have to hide Bucky's arm; a jacket would work, but would stand out in the hot environment, not to mention be highly uncomfortable for Bucky.

"New clothes," he marked that down in his notebook as he picked up a water bottle and slowly poured a little more water on the rag wrapped around Bucky's hand. Bucky sighed in relief, slumping gently against his pack, which was braced between him and the rock. Steve had told him the rocks were safe after nightfall, but Bucky didn't seem to believe him. Steve glanced up at him. "You know," he hesitated, avoiding looking at Bucky's eyes, "the city we're going to is only a small part of the ruins of one of the ancient capitals…" He took a deep breath, "Would you be okay if we took a quick stop at the ruins before we head on to New York?"

He flushed. It was the most obscure way he could think of to ask Bucky to come with him. All Bucky had to do if he didn't want to come was correct him. And if he did correct him, and Steve had to travel on without his friend...he didn't want to think past that. He had considered asking Bucky to continue traveling with him flat out, but had discarded the thought immediately. What could Steve offer the soldier? A hard life of traveling through a desert that got more inhospitable every day? Bucky was better off working for Shield, or doing whatever he was planning to do at that point. Still, Steve selfishly couldn't help but try.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably and Steve hurried on, eager to drop the subject. "The whole place is a maze of collapsed metal, and the further in we go, the less people there are, if that's what you're worried about. It would be quick…just a few hours." Bucky hesitated before giving a sharp nod.

Steve nodded and turned back to his list, hiding a relieved smile. He marked down some more items they would need. A glow stick, fire starters, burn medicine, and more winter clothes, for starters. He could have simply taken them from the Shield base, but it hadn't felt right and he had only wanted to take what was absolutely necessary for the trip to the city. Steve added a few more things to the list, frowning as he estimated the cost. They would need to go into the ruins anyway if they were going to afford this stuff. The most expensive thing would be the clothes for Bucky. They would have to light and airy enough to go unnoticed, but solid enough to hide the metal arm.

They traveled to the city in silence, Bucky wearing the mask and Steve's coat to mask his face and arms. At Steve's insistence, he tied his hair back in a bun with a strip of cloth taken from one of Steve's undershirts. It made for quite the odd picture, and Steve hoped they would be able to get the clothes quickly. The city was much smaller than New York, but still housed a sizable population of five hundred or so. Additionally, it was a place used by many travelers like Steve as a safe haven to resupply themselves and rest for the day. The city should have a decent tailor at least, along with selling the basic things they needed.

Steve let out a breath of relief as they stepped into the confines of the city walls. This was a safest place they could be right now, or at least it was much safer than walking around with nothing to cover them for miles. Bucky had the opposite reaction: he stiffened and kept his hand on his belt where the handle of a knife protruded. It probably didn't help that people kept giving them curious looks and whispering to each other.

Steve made his first destination the tailor's.

It only took them half an hour to find the place, a small stone building with shelves on all of the walls. Each shelf housed rolls of cloth with various colors and textures. Steve tore his attention away from them as the tailor called out a friendly greeting.

"What are you looking for?" he asked politely as Steve walked up to the counter. Bucky remained by the door warily, his posture painfully tense. Steve turned and raised an eyebrow questioningly. Bucky shifted uncomfortably, glancing outside before sighing. He moved forward, reluctantly coming to stand next to Steve.

"My friend needs a new outfit…something light enough to keep him cool, but solid enough to hide his body." Steve patted Bucky on the shoulder, making the soldier stiffen even further, "He's very self-conscious."

The tailor nodded thoughtfully as he went over to one side of the wall and pulled out a roll of white linen cloth. Steve glanced warily at Bucky as the tailor then moved to the other side and picked out a light tan roll. Bucky seemed to have relaxed somewhat, though his eyes still followed the tailor as he moved through the room.

"This for the shirt?" The tailor held up the white cloth and Steve nodded as he came over to examine it.

"I'll need measurements," The tailor looked a little nervous as he said this, "We can go in the back if your friend is uncomfortable."

Steve smiled. "Of course." He gestured for Bucky to come forward and the soldier did so unhappily, following the tailor to the back room with only a glare sent Steve's way. Steve waited in the front, listening carefully to the tailor's muttered instructions as he took Bucky's measurements.

The bell rang and Steve looked up as a man came in. The man's eyes were locked on his list and his lips moved slowly as if he were memorizing what was written on it.

"The tailors in the back," Steve said and the man's head whipped up, stopping just in time as he almost bumped into Steve. Steve frowned as he looked over the man's angular features…he looked very familiar…

"Oh!" He smiled, "Sorry, I was a little distracted."

Steve smiled and held out his hand, "Steve Rogers."

The man quickly put down his paper on the table and shook Steve's hand. "Jimmy Brock Butler," he smiled, and Steve felt a sliver of unease echo through him. The man continued, unaware of Steve's discomfort, "Most people just call me Rumlow."

Steve raised an eyebrow and turned Rumlow's arm to see the initials S.R. imprinted into his skin. Even as he watched, the letter's turned gold.

"My initials are J.B.B." He whispered. Rumlow looked down at the marks on his arm in confusion. Steve wished he could see his own marks, if only to make sure, but the wound would keep them from changing colors even if he could see the letters.

"Oh, jeeze." Rumlow dropped Steve's hand like it had burned him and ran his fingers through his short brown hair, "I…I gotta go, can you meet me at the bar around the corner…the Camel's Hump, in an hour?"

Steve nodded and Rumlow gave him a quick smile before he turned and left.

"Who was that?" The tailor asked as he and Bucky came back into the room.

"A guy," Steve grinned at Bucky, making the super soldier frown in confusion. He had taken off his mask while he was in there, and his blue eyes glittered in the sunlight. Steve's smile widened. He wanted to burst out shouting that he had finally met his soulmate, but forced himself to wait. It wasn't something he wanted to share with the tailor. Instead, he forced his his grin into a pleasant smile. "All done?"

Bucky nodded once and the tailor sighed as he began writing on a piece of paper. "That's quite the prosthetic your friend has," he said, "I had to take two measurements as it's a little bigger than the other arm. Come back tomorrow and the clothes will be ready." Steve nodded his thanks as he took the pickup paper and tucked it in his pocket, eager to be gone.

Bucky looked at him curiously as they left the shop and Steve's grin returned in full.

"I met this guy while you were in there." The words spilled out in a torrent of excitement. "His name is Jimmy Brock Butler…And his letters are S.R." He turned to Bucky. The super soldier had the most peculiar expression on his face, almost like panic. "And Bucky...They turned gold when I touched his hand!"

Bucky said nothing, he stared down at Steve, his face open and vulnerable, as if Steve had just plunged a knife into his chest. Steve immediately felt guilty. How could he expect Bucky to be happy for him when Bucky would never know his own soulmate? He looked away. "I'm sorry," he whispered, but Bucky said nothing, pushing past him and leaving Steve to his own thoughts.

They spent the rest of the hour getting most of the things they needed. Steve checked Bucky into a hotel, giving him enough money to get the rest of the things before he headed towards the bar. Bucky had said nothing the whole time, and the super soldier's silence bothered Steve more than he liked to admit. He wished he could say something to make it better between them, but what could he say?

No one was inside the bar when he came inside except the bartender, and for a moment Steve felt a fission of unease, the same one he had felt at the tailor's. What if Rumlow wasn't coming? What if he thought Steve wasn't pretty enough? What if he was disappointed that such a small, sickly man was the one that matched his initials? Steve had never heard of it happening, but he wouldn't put it past anyone. He wasn't exactly Captain America. Actually, he didn't know anyone who looked like Shield's founder, except Bucky maybe. Steve shook his head, he was overthinking it. Maybe Rumlow was just late. Steve sat down at the bar and ordered a glass of beer.

"Where is everyone?" He asked the bartender. "Is this your peak time?"

The bartender shrugged, "Sick, there's been a massive outbreak of the flu and without water, people are suffering. The doctors are working on a cure but…"

Steve nodded as he sipped his beer thoughtfully. There hadn't been an outbreak of the flu since…since the last famine. It had taken years to get rid of it fully.

"Steve?"

Steve turned and smiled as he saw Rumlow standing there. "Rumlow," he stopped awkwardly and Rumlow stepped forwards, pulling Steve into a kiss.

It felt…wrong.

Steve kissed him back anyway, winding his arms around the taller man's neck and pulling him down to kiss him. He barely registered the door slamming open and the bartender shouting something before something latched onto his arm. He yelped as he was thrown backwards, away from Rumlow.

"Hey!" Steve snapped as Bucky moved in front of him.

Rumlow wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, an ugly expression on his face. "Can I help you?" He sneered.

"Buck, he's my soulmate, it's okay!" Steve said as he tugged at Bucky's arm.

"It's not okay!" Bucky growled. "He's not your soulmate, Steve, he's Hydra!"

Steve was stunned. Bucky was going to do this now? "He's not part of your mystical terrorist group! Bucky!" Steve grabbed Bucky's arm, desperate to stop the rage he could feel brewing between the two men. Bucky yanked his arm away, sending Steve tumbling to the ground. Steve's head hit the barstool and his vision began to swim as Bucky lunged at Rumlow. The sounds of flesh thudding against flesh urged Steve to his feet. There was an earsplitting crack and Rumlow fell to the ground, clutching his arm as Bucky grabbed him by his neck and hauled him into the air, his metal arm flashing in the moonlight streaming through the window.

"You stay away from Steve," Bucky growled. "Did you think I wouldn't remember you? The only reason I'm not going to kill you now is because of him." Rumlow gasped for air, his feet jerking around as he tried to find stable footing. Bucky dropped him and he collapsed to the ground, gasping desperately for air. Steve stumbled toward him, but stopped as Rumlow laughed. It was a vicious, terrible sound, the kind of sound one made when they knew their enemy was going to suffer.

"We will find you," he choked out, leveling a look of pure hate at Bucky. "Hydra will always win, cut off one head...two more shall take its place."

Bucky knelt down and Steve's heart skipped a beat as he smiled at Rumlow It wasn't a nice smile, more of a promise. Bucky's eyes glittered, "Who said anything about heads?" He murmured, and with a sickening squelch, he plunged his hand into Rumlow's chest.

Steve turned away, bile coming up in his mouth. He could hear Rumlow screaming, but then he stopped and there was only silence left along with a sickening dripping noise Steve didn't want to think about. He stumbled back, turning and running for the door. He made it outside only to fall to the ground, acid burning in his throat. The door opened and closed, the quiet ring of a bell breaking the silence. Steve looked up and cringed away from Bucky even as his throat and chest burned with dry heaves.

Bucky waited until Steve was finished before he held out Steve's pack. It was with his flesh and blood hand, Steve noticed. His metal hand was dripping blood onto the dusty ground. Steve watched it mix with the dust, though the ground was too dead to try to soak up the moisture. Dead. The ground was dead. Like Rumlow. Like Steve's hope.

"You killed him," Steve whispered, looking up at Bucky's cold eyes.

"He wasn't yours, Steve." Bucky knelt next to Steve, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. "He was Hydra."

"How did you know?" Steve jerked back. Bucky smiled bitterly, letting his hand fall. Steve looked down at the blood dripping into the dirt and panic began to build in his chest He had to go, had to get away.

He seized his pack and ran, dodging people right and left as he fled from the soldier. It was fruitless, he knew. Bucky could have caught him if he wanted to, but he didn't.