They're stunned by the question.

Until Foggy takes a deep breath and Matt hears him lean forward, "what did you want to do before you got drafted?"

Barnes' hair wafts his shampoo as it whips up, "you know I was drafted?"

Matt tilts his head in curiosity, he hadn't known that. But Foggy is nodding, "your enlistment number, started with a three. People ended up figuring that out. And you just confirmed earlier."

No one serious. I dated a lot before getting draf—

Oh.

Foggy leans back, "did Steve know you were drafted?"

"Not back then. Thought I'd joined up. Didn't want to tell him otherwise, since he wanted to go so bad. I—" Barnes' face is pained, "I guess he probably knows now if other people figured it out."

"What did you want to do before you left for war?"

Barnes' eyes get far away, "I uh…" he sighs, "I wanted to write."

"Write?" Matt hears himself ask.

The man is nodding, Matt can feel the way he's slowly shifting in his seat, as if he's embarrassed. "I read The Hobbit… and I just…" his voice changes, sounding younger, "I felt like I'd escaped into another world. I kept that book with me. Took it to Europe on the battle fronts. Read it cover to cover so many times that I actually had most of it memorized. When we were trapped behind enemy lines or told to sit tight, I…" He can hear Foggy's heartbeat increasing, and he can feel the smile that's accompanying it. Barnes' voice radiates a sense of happiness it hasn't before, "I would recite it. To the men. Like I was telling a story. So many couldn't read or read well, and even more hadn't ever had money to buy a book for fun. Just to read. So I got to share that with them. I wanted to brighten up the darkness that we were in. And telling that story, or any story really… It did that. And so even during the war I wanted to write."

Foggy's reaching into his leather satchel, Matt can smell the leather polish. Then he hears the click of a pen and some scratching of writing.

"Here." Matt feels the air shift, and Foggy's handing something to Barnes.

"What—? No, I can't take this—"

"You can. And you will. Look, your name's already in it." Matt hears the soft shuffling of pages and the shushing of fingers on paper. "Wherever you are, whenever you can, write stuff down. Memories, stories, whatever you want. Get practice. I know writing things down helps me, and if it's something you want to do for the future then you should start now."

True gratitude filters Barnes' voice, "thank you…"

Foggy's grinning, he can feel it, "of course. And if you ever need another one. I've got tons. What did you want to write?"

"I don't really remember." Barnes admits, "but I know there was a moment…" He laughs, a soft sound barely audible but it's there, "Steve was drawing and I told him if we made it back to the mainland and if the war was over, we should go into business. You know, comics or something. I do the writing, he could do the art."

Matt shifts, leaning forward, "Steve… draws?"

The smell of his shampoo infiltrates his nose as Barnes looks at him, nodding, "yes, he wanted to be an artist before the war," then he pauses, his head turning to Foggy, "right?" He sounds panicked now, like he can't believe he can't remember, "I'm pretty sure. Steve loved to draw, he wanted to go to Auburn, the arts school. But he couldn't afford it—"

"Must make rent cheap."

Matt turns, halfway to the fridge, "you tight on money?"

Only people who know money struggles comment on cheap rent.

A long sigh that sounds disproportionately sad to the words he says, "used to be."

Foggy's nodding, "yeah, I remember my teacher talking about that. Steve Rogers lived below the poverty line before signing up for Project Rebirth."

Barnes snorts, "below the poverty line is putting it a nice way. My parents were well off, and he would refuse every cent we offered. I used to slide coins into this jar he kept in a cabinet or bills into his wallet but he'd always figure it out and give it back. Then my ma started making food and dropping it off when he wasn't home but he would return that too. Stubborn idiot." His aura changes to one of frustration, "once, we were going to visit some family in the Midwest, and I was all worried about leaving him alone, cuz when Steve's alone is when he gets in the most trouble." Foggy huffs out a laugh but Barnes continues. "Steve had been sick and hadn't had any money for food. So my ma made this stew and bread and a block of cheese and put it in the small barely functioning icebox in his apartment. And she begged him to keep it and eat at it while we were gone."

He pauses, and both he and Foggy remain quiet.

There's a long deep breath and then he's talking again, quieter, "when I got home the pot had been washed and returned and Steve said it was very good and he was very grateful. He was sick again, looking frail and gaunt but that was pretty normal for the change in the season we were experiencing."

Another long silence and Matt feels the heat from the lights of the billboard playing across his skin. Barnes is staring out at it, he can tell.

"Two months later…" he starts, "I was stopping by Steve's rat hole apartment to change a lightbulb he didn't know I knew had gone out. His eyes were shit and I could always tell when it went out because he had to do his work only during the daylight and he would get behind." His voice sort of cracks and he fights to keep talking, "but after finishing, I walked out and the neighbor on the ground floor, she stopped me… she asked if I was a Barnes." His voice takes on an eerie quality, as if he's watching the memory replay in that moment, "I told her yes, and she thanked me. Cried and cried and thanked me. And I didn't know why. I didn't know why."

Foggy's aura of tension radiates and Matt wonders what expression on Barnes' face is making him feel that way.

"I tried to ask why, but she barely spoke English, and I didn't speak Irish. Next time I saw Steve, I tried to ask him but he just acted confused. He's a good liar, or… not that he's a liar, he's just good at making everything seem like no big deal. He pretended to be confused." He sighs, "but I knew something was up. So I brought my ma over once. Didn't go up to Steve's, instead I knocked on the neighbor's door. My ma wasn't Irish, but she and Sarah had been friends long enough that they'd each become conversational in each other's native languages before Sarah died. The woman was overcome. Crying and thankful and just overjoyed to meet my ma." His voice gets raw, "you know why?"

Matt has a guess. Foggy's voice is quiet, "why?"

"Turns out…" Barnes responds in annoyance, "the day we left, the woman's child had fallen ill, and her husband hadn't been able to find work. This was during the depression and jobs were scarce." He clears his throat, "the woman explained to my ma that Steve had heard her child cry and had come down to see if they were okay. When the woman apologized for the noise, explaining that the child was ill and probably hungry, Steve had left—" Matt's lips set in a thin line, knowing exactly where this is going. "And came back with a giant pot of stew and bread and cheese." Foggy's breathing shifts, and Barnes is now standing, facing the window fully, "he told the woman that his friends, the Barneses, had made a whole bunch of extra food and that there there was no way he could eat it all before it went bad. So he gave it to them." His voice is sharp like wire. "He gave all of it to them. We were gone for a week." His metal arm is whirring, "and I came back, stupidly believing him. I thought he was sick. No." His hands grip his head again, "he'd starved for a week. Alone. Just to help some people he only barely knew." Then he turns quickly, his feet shifting against the wooden floor, "that's why I can't ask him to help. He'll give and he'll give and he'll do everything in his power to make sure everyone else is okay before he even blinks at himself. And I can't. I can't do that."

Matt doesn't know what to say.

"What if he wants to do that?" Foggy asks.

"What?"

"What if…" Foggy stands, walking softly towards where Matt can sense Barnes is standing, "what if Steve wants to give and give and give. Why is that a bad thing?"

"Because he has no self-preservation! He needs to think about himself for once."

And God bless Foggy Nelson. Because the next question makes Matt understand his plan.

"So you want Steve to be happy?"

"Of course."

"And don't you think Steve knowing that you're happy and healthy and safe… wouldn't that make him happy?"

A sharp glare is sent. He hears Foggy's laugh. "Maybe caring for people… is how he cares for himself."

"That's not healthy." Barnes snaps.

"Never said it was." Foggy admits. "But you're obvisouly going to be priority number one…"

Matt cuts in, "If Steve is anything like I think he is. He's never going to give up looki—"

Matt's phone rings. He shuffles it out of his pocket and answers, "hello?"

"Matt?"

Matt stiffens and he knows it's too late. Barnes' arms hisses and whirs at the sudden tension radiating through it at the sound of Steve's voice.

"Hey Steve." He responds casually. "What's up?"

There's a long pause then Steve speaks calmly and slowly, "I was wondering if we can meet for sparring at 9 on Tuesday. Instead of 8:30?"

"Sure." Matt agrees easily, "got a hot date?"

Steve lets out a forced chuckle and Matt can hear a strange quality to his voice. He's moving, Matt can hear that. Maybe he's on a mission or something. "Nope, just something that's going to push me later."

"Well, yeah, it's no problem."

"Okay, great, thanks." Then Steve is gone with a click and Matt drops his phone into his pocket.

Foggy is sitting again, "where are you staying?"

"I move around."

"Stay here." Matt offers, "no point being homeless."

"I don't like to stay in one place." Barnes protests, "it's not safe."

"Safe for me? Or for you?"

"Either."

"Who is after you?"

"I don't know." Barnes admits, "but it could be anyone. Now that those files are public. People know what I've done. How I can be used."

Matt pauses, frowning, "used?"

"Yeah," Barnes answers, "the words."

"Words?"

"I can't let anyone know the words." Barnes is saying, then he's pacing, "I've stayed too long in New York. I should leave and make sure there's no one left who knows the words." The last of his voice cracks off and Matt can hear the strange sensation of Barnes falling off the edge. His train of thought derailing.

"Listen," Foggy says, seeming calm but Matt can hear the uptick in his heart rate, "whoever it is you're after, we can get them legally. Don't go adding to your body count now that you're free. We need your post record from Hydra to be clean." Foggy's voice is calm and practical.

"Clean?" Barnes repeats rasping.

"Barnes," Matt says, and his instinct is to stand in front of Foggy, to block him, even though Barnes hasn't moved. Something is shifting mentally in Barnes, like a tectonic plate, "stay with us. Whatever you're worried about, we will help you."

A soft thud draws their heads towards Matt's room. Foggy, who couldn't hear it, looks at them in confusion, "what?"

Barnes is wide eyed and stepping back.

Matt winces, "shit."

The door slides open and Steve stands there, staring at them. His eyes find Barnes immediately, and relief and grief and crushing concern fill through room.

"Buck." Steve says, "you're here—" Barnes is ready to bolt. He takes a step back and Steve mirrors it, stepping forward. "Do you know who I am?"

"No." Barnes commands, his voice strained, "stay away."

"I'm Steve." He responds, "please, don't run—"

Barnes moves, shifting into a crouch, faking to attack and then bolting towards the front door.

Steve moves quicker than Matt has ever seen him go, running, leaping over his old leather sofa and snagging the back of Barnes' jacket.

It rips under his grip and both go stumbling.

Barnes tries to run again but Steve twists, grabbing his metal arm and holidng tight.

"Let go!" Barnes growls out, his eyes looking wild, "now!"

"No. I'm your friend!"

Foggy's heartbeat is through the roof, but he's just watching, backed away. Matt doesn't know whether to intervene or not.

Matt feels it a second before it happens. The shift in the air, the building of energy.

Barnes does something, shifting his metal arm to discharge an incredible amount of electricity. Steve cries out in surprise, but he doesn't let go. "Buck," he sucks in air, "please—!"

"You fed that family!" Barnes shouts, eyes glazed as if he's struggling to be present, "you lied, you always lie!"

Steve seems genuinely taken aback, his heart rate shifting strangely and his head tilting, his voice confused, "what?"

"Don't—" Barnes huffs out, yanking his arm and this time getting it free. He whirs it in a circle. Matt hears the circuitry reset and Steve is standing, ready to reach out in case Barnes runs. "You need to stay away from me!"

"No! I won't do that! Wherever you run I will follow. I want to help—"

Desperation rolls of Barnes, "You can't help me!"

Matt doesn't need to see Steve's expression to know that his face falls and heart wrenching grief rolls off of him in waves, "what… what do you mean?"

"I don't need or want your help—" Barnes bites out, "I read the files. I went to the museum! You asked me to go on that mission. You left me to die in that gorge. So leave. Me. Alone." The room drops 20 degrees and Steve's heart is pounding. The anguish is so pungent it almost makes Matt gag.

And then Barnes is gone and Steve is still frozen.

Foggy steps forward and moves in front of Steve. "Hello, sir, I'm Foggy, and I know you don't know me, but I do know that he didn't mean that. He's just using whatever he can to keep you away from him. I promise, he's—

"Right." Steve cuts him off, his voice like razors, sharp and brittle. "He's right."

Foggy's shaking his head, "no, he's not, he thinks he's protecting—"

But Matt's not listening. He's running.

—-

It's a good thing Barnes' mind is a bit erratic. Matt can follow the smell of his own soap easily.

He catches up and although he doesn't relish the thought, he tackles Barnes onto the pavement.

Barnes fights, shoving and punching and kicking and it's a long dance between them. Matt only survives because of his weekly spars with Steve. They do move similar even if they have a few sharp differences. And thankfully, Barnes is weaponless at the moment. Besides his arm.

Which lands a shove against his chest that sends Matt flying. He lets out a pianed sound as he thuds against a trash can and crumples.

When he shakily sits up, he expects Barnes to be gone, but the man is there, staring at his arm like it's a foreign thing attached to him.

"See?" He hears the man whisper out, "I can't be trusted."

"So?" Matt grits out, getting to his feet and using the trash can as support, "everyone has the days they struggle. Maybe you will for the rest of your life. But you absolutely will if you…" he groans, feeling his ribs protest, "if you push people away. You don't think I get it? You don't think I've been worried what would happen to Foggy if people knew who I was? That's why I didn't tell him. I thought I was protecting him, but that just made things worse! I know how it feels to want to protect someone so bad that you hurt them to do it. But it's never the right choice to push people away. Never."

"You don't know what I've done."

"I do."

"You don't—"

"Howard, right? Maria? Those were their names?"

Barnes crouches, head in his hands again, "I didn't know. I didn't know."

"You didn't have a choice."

"Steve will be so mad—"

"Steve will not be mad. He may be sad, but he's already sad. You leaving isn't going to help that."

"Tell him…" Matt steps forward, sensing the way Barnes shifts and seems to straighten, like he's pulling himself together and getting ready for a fight, "Tell him I didn't mean what I said. But that he shouldn't come looking."

Matt grits his teeth, "tell him yourself—" but before the words are finished, the man's heartbeat is gone.

—-

Matt hides his discomfort as he walks back into the apartment.

Steve is gone and Foggy is sitting there looking helpless.

"Where'd he go?"

Foggy sighs, "I don't know, he was about to go after you when he got a call. I just heard the word 'scepter' and 'Sokovia'." Matt senses Foggy's grimace, "he looked like he was being torn in two, man. Deciding what to do."

"Shit." Matt sighs.

"What happened to Barnes?"

"Took off. But he told me to tell Steve he didn't mean what he said."

"I tried that." Foggy says, "don't think it sunk in."

There's a long silence and then Foggy turns in the chair and reaches, grabbing the take out containers and gathering them, "you think Steve will give up?"

Matt shakes his head, a slow somber feeling pervading the room, "no. He won't."

—-

*A/N - Ummmmm You could probably tell, but writing this chapter was like scraping my own nails on a chalkboard. (Other than the Steve's background story, I live to write that traumatic shit)

ANYWAYS

I had an existential back and forth crisis about whether or not this should fit into canon or be like a fix-it fic, I had had it fitting in the MCU timeline and it was like 'this could possibly be happening at the same time as the movies' you know? Like this was what Steve was doing on the side, but then IF I decided NOT to do canon and split off into my own thing, it felt like I was signing up for this huge undertaking I'd have to write with having to bring in Tony and then maybe courtroom scenes to make Matt/Foggy's presence make sense? And I just didn't even feel confident in myself to do that justice. The original point of the fic was the Matt and Steve friendship and the secrecy about who Steve was. Once that was revealed, I realized I had to fish or cut bait, and I chose to cut bait. :'(

I apologize if that's not the way you wanted this to go (it wasn't necessarily my favorite either) but I just didn't feel good about forcing the story to continue in an AU I'd have to create. I know a lot of you were more excited about a Steve/bucky reunion, and maybe some good feels or something between the four.

But… I have written fix its about the CW timeline and I probably will again, but I didn't feel like I could do it in a way I wanted to here. I'm sure Matt and Foggy will appear in other fics and if I ever get the motivation (and good idea) for how I would have had this fic go if I split off canon, then I will absolutely come back. As of right now, this is the lead up to Avengers Age of Ultron

My apologies,

Cap