{3}

The apartment was absent from sound. It was early Friday morning, most of the bustling traffic faded out. Most of it. Barry staggered down the hallway, half conscious and wincing in pain. Wearing one of Steve's black T-shirts and sweatpants; he paused in front of a framed black and white photograph of the Howling Commando's standing behind Captain America holding the flag of his country. Too many memories were captured in that picture of young soldiers, friends and brothers. He understood the price of freedom since his father was a doctor who befriended war veterans at his practice.

It was a strange feeling and a little overwhelming to believe that he was standing in the home of the greatest American hero, the valiant soldier who led a nation to victory against the Nazis, HYDRA and the murderous and debased mind of Red Skull and saved dozens of lives by carrying his shield into the flames of destruction and guarding the weak and injured with his own body and noble spirit. It was hard to remember what it felt like to be a hero, all the sacrifice and burdens to carry in the seconds when life and death hung in balance. And it was even harder to believe that he was a symbol of freedom, that he could become a great legend if he erased all the doubt in his speeding heart.

Seeing the pictures of Captain America and the entire Commando's he felt an empowering measure of strength, hope and confidence wash over him. He felt renewed by his failures, and couldn't help but pull his lips into a weak smile as his grayish-blue eyes fell onto the towering warrior of justice and peace encased between a barriers of glass. It was a remarkable feeling as his eyes lingered over the photographs of asthmatic shell of a boy wearing a US military uniform that seemed to be too large over his small stature, but the boy's blue eyes held determination and resilience, and that was something Barry needed to gain back before he could decide to race back into battle.

It felt like an infinite chasm dividing him from responsibly and fear. The wounds of his last battle still penetrated deep within him; making him feel drained with no sense of purpose to push back the dread and face the storm.

He felt like a broken man, standing there, staring at true powers without speed force and the haunting images of death of a love one. His youthful face in the reflection of the glass looked...strange. Strange and unfocused. There was no gleam of fire in his seawater colored eyes, just a haze of grayish of a building tempest ravaging and twisting his despondent soul. A harsh thump in his chest and pain emerged in that moment when he forced himself to step an inch closer to the memorabilia of a young and cocky dark haired soldier named James Buchanan Barnes, other known as Bucky. He saw friendship, he saw trust, and he saw a promise. Bucky was smiling, widely and brotherly.

It was everlasting sense of a brother's love, an unbreakable devotion that Barry had never felt because his best friend was Iris, he never had a big brother to turn to when things got dark and bullies pushed him down. He only had Joe, his father figure and guardian -his family. His brave composer, already was shredded by his failures, was failing him, and he dropping his chin to his chest, releasing a sigh of disdain that was unnoticeable.

Then, his eyes peered closer at the most clearest and detailed photo of Barnes, reading the invisible words of the soldier, there was something familiar about him that he couldn't place, he took a moment to register clusters of images from his mind, and then felt a sense of recognition that assailed his heart. He'd seen that expression before on a stranger, Caitlin Snow's fiancé, Ronnie Raymond, a good man who died when he sacrificed his life and his life with Caitlin to contain the pulses of energy. There was something about this man who reminded him of Ronnie, maybe the haunted blue eyes and handsome face...or maybe it was something else.

He blinked quickly and withdrew a step back, and drew out a sharp exhale. "Ronnie..." he whispered out a strained breath, sensing a towering presence behind him. He was hesitant, daring himself to glance around, but he froze up before his eyes roved over his tensed shoulder.

There he was, the incredible man he used to pretend to be as child: Steve Rogers. Barry instantly sagged, his posture, and leaned against the molding of the door as he tried to configure the right emotions to express in front of the super-soldier, after all he did enter a passage of time, well, Steve's time. He steadied his breath, and turned around as his breath hitched, it was obvious that he grew ashamed of his own life, and allowed his voice to stay locked in his throat. Steve gave him a hint of a warm smile. "I see you found some photos of the men of 107th," he said adamantly; down-casting his light cerulean eyes. "They were men who'd lain down their lives to protect the right of freedom. Some paid at a great price and others got rewarded with a good life."

Barry chanced looking at him. Steve wasn't a man to express his inward pain, he kept in buried within, but his misty eyes always betrayed him; even at his greatest strength he felt the anguish of his rectifiable guilt. He didn't wear the radiance of Captain America's semblance; he was different, more natural to the elements of city life. His face cleaned shaven, and his blonde hair unkempt under a dark baseball cap with the symbol of the Avengers etched in the center. He was dressed in a gray hooded sweater and track pants hung smug around his waist, and his skin glazed with feverish sweat, but his stern eyes held their stare on the younger man.

Barry stammered out quickly, "I didn't mean to offend you by looking at these pictures of your friends, Captain Rogers." he said earnestly, in the back of his mind he that it had been a crime of intrusion. He pulled his lips into a frown. Steve was aware of his distress. "It must of have so cool to lead those men into battle; like a mean look at all of you...heroes and friends."

Steve proudly looked at his Howling Commando's, intently gazing at the very picture of his best friend. Then he settled his gaze on the young man standing in front of him. "You're a hero, Barry," he said with a firm measure of admiration in his deep baritone. "Though, you don't dress like a soldier," he stepped closer, and gently placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You are one inside..."

"Coming from you, Cap, I'll believe it," Bucky curved his lips into a small grin that reached his eyes, before he asked the obvious question, "So how did feel transforming into the super-soldier?"

Steve took a deep breath, "Well, it hurt at first with the injections, but I didn't give up the fight, Barry. I was weak in my body, but never in my spirit and held that within me as the pain increased and muscles grew...I never lost myself inside this body. I stayed a good man and held my promise to never allow my true self...You know the skinny kid from Brooklyn to become lost."

Barry stared at him, tears building in his eyes, "My powers weren't given to me by choice," he managed to smirk, despite the invasion of pain coursing through his system, "I'm a scientist, always looking for the impossible because it is what keeps me going...That night after the lightning storm and the surge of power, I thought I died, my heart stopped and I lost all conscious...Until he woke up among good people I have come to care about; people who have lost everything because of miscalculations towards the capacity of human error." Steve furrowed his eyebrows at this, as he continued with more confidence in his voice. "I lost my mother fourteen years ago...She was murdered in front of me, trapped in a vortex of yellow energy and I couldn't save her." He took a moment to breath, to collect himself, and regain his sense of soldiery.

"I have lived with that guilt for a long time, my father was thrown into a prison cell and my life was a standstill that left me alone to solve this mystery. After I got my powers, I understood the reason why the lightning bolt chose me..." he trailed off, his blue eyes fixed at the image display of Captain America. "I've been running all my life and the fears seem to chase after me...I may not be an Avenger, but I know the price you pay when you wear a hero's mantle and sometimes my heart slows down just to feel it." he said with thickness in his throat, he looked disgruntled. "Now, I have a choice to run forward or backwards..."

Steve smiled at that, nodding very subtly at Barry's words, barely feeling the searing coldness of his own past seep back into the guarded shields of his heart. The captain within him saw Barry as a wounded soldier who had lost his way home while the compassionate and caring man that Steve Rogers wanted to reach out to him and offer some cadence of hope as spoke, «The choices you make will define you, son even the bad ones..." he said, gripping Barry's shoulder that forced the younger man to lift his head and stare into the fathomless light shining in his bright eyes. "I understand your pain of losing a loved one when you had a chance to do something..." In that second, he thought of Bucky...Not the lethal killing machine, but his blood brother."You wish every day that you could have taken that extra leap of faith just to hold onto them a second longer..."

"Imagine if we could go back in time and mix everything, I know it sounds impossible because if we did the rifts of time could be effected and future would end up different. Or rather darker than what we've lost." Barry said, moving away from Steve. He had to run. He forced every muscle in his body to jolt, but the virus in the bullet kept him from taking another step. He breathed out a shaky exhale, "My friend Joe is only I have close to father, and my best friend Iris. She's...»

"The right partner?" Steve interrupted, with gleam of utmost understanding in his blue eyes. His lips parted as hint of his suffering escaped as images of Peggy Carter, his love reentered his mind, her bright and fiery brown eyes obscured by chocolate ringlets and red lips. He promised to take her dancing in another lifetime, but time stole her from him, and small part of him felt ashamed and betrayed because he never grabbed the right courage to hold her into an embrace and allow her to lead him into a slow dance. It had been increasingly difficult to see Peggy trapped inside an old woman's body and lost in thralls of dementia, but he kept his promise and every week he paid a visit to her, despite the situation that he couldn't save her from. Now, he finally saw a young man, almost the same age of when he first enlisted, caring and determined to save everyone in his life. He saw himself in Barry, they eyes reflected the other's defeats and victories. "Iris is your best girl that you've promise yourself to dance with?"

Barry winced a little and then lowered his eyes, "If only it were true, Captain Rogers." he sighed, long and hard. "She is someone's best girl, a good man who fights for justice and everything we stand for..." He nearly choked out his words; feeling a dull ache in his chest, and split open his heart. "I just want her to be happy."

"That's only the half of the answer, Barry," Steve replied, staring at him as they both entered momentarily silence. "Someone once told me to always fight," he whispered, even though it was spoken with regret. "I've lost the woman I loved because of sacrifices. I saved the world, but I couldn't save myself from this life of endless war between order and chaos. She had a good life, married a soldier and had a family. Her life was full of accomplishment and fulfillment. I missed it because of my choice to carry out the mission." Steve moved closer to a table underneath a wartime poster of the Commando's and made an effort to lift a tarnished photo frame of Peggy close to his chest. Again he curved his full lips into a frown, and stared at the image. "I wish I could go back in time and take her dancing," he whispered.

Barry inched closer. "There is someone else you want to dance with I think it's the Russian spy who goes on missions with the Avengers. I know she's named after that deadly species of spiders in the Amazon...The Black Widow?" Steve grimaced at that, not because it was true, but because Barry could see right through his emotions. "It's okay, I've got a few partners back in Central City, one of them is this amazing hacker and the other is a doctor who helps me recover from battle...There was one I sort have had deep concern towards because I wanted to save her. She was a young sergeant and also mega human, but her powers were unstable like a time bomb and I watched her die..."

"She died?"

"Yeah," Barry answered with faint brush of remorse in his voice. "She was corrupted with revenge and in result of her choice she got herself killed, and I had to race into the water far away from my city and place her in the deep because if I didn't the mass of her body exploding would have destroyed everyone in matter of seconds...Her name was Plastique."

Steve nodded, quietly, "I know that feeling of loss," he said, crossing his broad arms over his chest. His eyes stung. He couldn't help it. "It seems to me that you suffered a lot in a short period of time...I have a friend would might have been able to help this Plastique, but I think in a way Barry you already saved her."

Barry stood tall, basking in the presence of his hero, and felt his strength slowly returning to him. "I think there's a reason why I've come here, Captain Rogers, my friend Joe says there is always a reason, I never use to believe in those words, but now I do." He couldn't make himself say anything more, to give the captain before him the honest truth that suddenly became a painful knot in his throat. He smiled reassuringly, and walked over to Steve, placing his hand on the super-soldier's shoulder; feeling the strength and surges of power. Silently, he looked up at Steve; he didn't have to say anything. He knew that they both needed a friend to guide them across the battlefield. And he was going to be Captain America's friend.

"Now, do you want some breakfast?" Steve asked, gesturing a hand towards the kitchen. "I can make you anything you want..."

"A dozen pancakes?" Barry laughed, trying to ease off the tension in the air between them. "Lots of coffee.."

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, amazed at Barry's request, and then mirrored his laugh, "Let me guess, you have a high metabolism?"

Barry shrugged, with a sheepishly grin, "Yeah, I can't even get drunk if I tried...I burn everything out."

Sounds familiar...

"Come on, son," Steve begun to walk towards the kitchen area, listening to Barry's hushed footsteps behind him. "I'll make you a big breakfast."

Barry smiled; he couldn't help it, "Just gave me the orders of what you want me to do in the kitchen, Cap."

Steve turned around, with a daring smirking playing on his lips, "How fast can you set a-"

*Whosh*

Before he could take a step forward, a red blur invaded his kitchen and plates, glasses and silverware were placed on the table. Steve stood in the hall, dumbstruck as his blue eyes trained on Barry sitting in chair with a glass of orange juice in his hand. He nodded with an amused grin, and said under his breath, "That fast..."

A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading and following this story. Lots more to come.