Steve is quiet when he comes back from his time with Hydra and road trip with Barnes. He looks healthy and Bruce knows how fast he heals so he doesn't expect to find any injuries. He insists on checking him over anyway.
Steve tenses when he touches him and Bruce recognizes an aborted flinch when he sees it.
"I'm fine," Steve says, trying to sound impatient but it comes out weary.
Steve's skin is unblemished but Bruce doesn't scar either, not since the Hulk, and he is not fooled.
He insists on multitude of tests and Steve grudgingly consents, shadows of fear dancing in his eyes, wild.
The x-ray in particular tells a horrifying story. The bones may be healed now, thanks to the super-soldier serum in Steve's blood, but healing leaves marks. There are plenty of them.
The Hulk wants to come out and play and Bruce wants to let him-
It's Bruce who taught him bloodlust, never forget
-but knows he can't. Not now, when Steve is looking at him like one wrong word will send him running.
He takes a deep breath and tightens his hold on his anger. Steve relaxes visibly. Bruce stays quiet, not sure what he needs to say. He is not the kind of doctor Steve needs.
"Don't tell me," Steve pleads.
"You don't know?"
"I remember some. The rest…they drugged me. I know- I know they did things but-"
"I understand." If he doesn't remember, doesn't know, then it didn't happen. Bruce doesn't think that's a healthy way to deal with one's problems but then again, it's not like his is any better. He deals with his problems by turning into an enormous green rage monster and smashing them.
(There is never enough blood on his hands to calm the rage.)
"I don't want to know," Steve repeats, "Just tell me if there is any permanent damage."
"There isn't. You-"
"-heal quickly." Steve finishes for him, bitterly.
Bruce fiddles with medical instruments and keeps his eyes down, away from Steve's, "Your friend didn't come back with you?" he asks, even though he knows it may not be the best thing to ask. He's always been a bit reckless.
"No," Steve answers shortly and looks away. There is resigned acceptance in his voice, shot through with hurt.
Bruce looks up, "He'll come around." He consoles, lamely.
Steve looks at him hopefully, "You think so?" he asks and Bruce feels like he may not be good at this-
"Yes."
-but he might be good enough, because Steve looks at him like he believes him. He hopes Barnes doesn't make a liar out of him. "He came when you needed him the most, didn't he?"
Steve meets with Sam the same day he gets back.
His friend is limping and trying to hide it. Steve stares at his leg for far too long, unable to meet his eyes. Bucky has informed him that Hydra had lied when they told him that Sam was dead but it could have easily been the truth. He remembers Sam falling down, wounded. He never should have-
"No one forced me to go," Sam says, as if reading his mind. He doesn't sound like he regrets anything. "I will heal," he adds.
Steve clenches his jaw. It is one thing that Sam was willing to put himself in danger to fight aliens, another entirely that he put himself in danger to find a man who-
tore his wings, oh God, and brought him down, crashing to the ground
-means nothing to him.
Sam sighs, like Steve is being an idiot. It is not meant to be insulting, but it is and Steve struggles not to lash out.
Tony designs a special punching bag. At his angriest, using all of his enhanced strength, Steve doesn't manage to destroy it. He tries and tries and tries and it remains pristine. He wavers between being disappointed and grateful, because he wants to destroy but he also doesn't and it is nice to be able to use full strength.
He doesn't feel like pulling punches.
When he tires of the punching bag, he is approached for a spar by Thor who looks at him with ancient eyes and who hits like he knows Steve won't break.
And Steve thinks thank you thank you thank you, because he had his doubts but Thor doesn't and Steve trusts Thor more than he trust himself at this point.
"Do we seem like children to you?" Steve asks him later, when they are drinking beer with the others and Jane moves away to discuss science with Tony and Bruce.
Thor sounds unusually solemn when he answers, "No, you mature quickly. It took me centuries to get where you are now. But your maturity has a price." He looks over at Jane, where she is laughing at the other end of the room, and his eyes are unbelievably sad, "You die too quickly."
"I see." He thinks of Peggy, old and her time running out while he is still young, an entire life in front of him. He is sorry he asked.
Thor looks back at him, "She is the love of my life. One day she will die, and I will live for thousands of years without her."
Steve is so damn sorry he asked.
"She is alive now." Thor smiles, all traces of sadness gone, "There will be more than enough time for grieving, once she's not."
Thousands of years, Steve thinks, thousands of years.
Bucky is in Madrid, following Rumlow, when Peggy dies. He learns about it when he receives a text from JARVIS. No one is supposed to know where he is, but the little bastard likes to keep tabs on him. Starks are nosy bastards, and Jarvis is a Stark, despite not being human.
Carter is dead. Steve must be a mess.
Bucky watches Rumlow cross the street; he pockets his phone before going after him.
Rumlow is tied down in a chair, still unconscious, when Bucky makes the call.
"Hi, Buck," Steve says the moment the line connects, sounding tired and so very sad.
"How did you know it was me? I know you don't have this number."
"I asked JARVIS to screen my calls."
Bucky is silent for a long time before he offers, "Want me to come?"
Steve exhales a shaky breath, "I loved her," he says, instead of answering, "no one seems to understand that. I loved her."
"I know."
"I met her children, you know? And her grandchildren." Steve lets out a strangled laugh, "I hang out with her grandson. He is a great guy, but sometimes I look at him and I can't help but imagine… If I had come back to her, if I hadn't crashed-"
"Steve."
Steve swallows audibly, "It's not fair."
"Should I pack my bags?"
Steve hesitates, but declines in the end, "Thor is coming. I'll be fine."
He won't be fine. Bucky is about to say something about it when Rumlow starts to stir.
"I have to go," He says, reluctantly.
"Okay," Steve answers and Bucky doesn't like the sound of his voice. It's tiny and quiet and wrong.
"You were my favorite Howling Commando," Rumlow tells him conversationally, like he isn't a tied down prisoner.
Bucky hums noncommittally.
"I used to want to be a hero," Rumlow continues undeterred, "a long time ago."
"You missed a turn somewhere."
"Yeah," he smiles, almost pleased, and the scars on his face stretch weirdly and make it look sad. "I didn't like hearing you scream when they wiped you. I didn't like what they were doing to you." He sounds sincere. "You were Bucky Barnes," Rumlow says it like he was something special, and it is not the first time someone said his name like that. Bucky is starting to realize that history remembers him fondly. "They ruined you. Sure, the Asset was deadly, but imagine what you could have been had they flipped you for real."
"I hate Hydra."
Rumlow chuckles, "That's hardly surprising."
Rumlow doesn't share what he knows and Bucky doesn't drag it out of him. He considers doing it but the thought brings back the taste of bile in his mouth and he can't-
won't, really, won't go back down that road. Never again, not even if it were Steve who asked it of him.
He still kills Rumlow, though, quickly, stabbing him once, in the heart. He wishes he didn't spend all of his bullets capturing the man so he could have done this from a distance.
Truthfully, even pulling the trigger has gotten harder.
He used to not think about it at all. Now, he rarely stops.
He can't sleep, and sometimes he can't even breathe. Other times he wakes up excited, tasting blood and thirsting for more.
Rarely, he wakes up numb and cold, not knowing his own name. It never lasts. He-
loves it
-remembers quickly.
It is evening, the next day, when Bucky knocks on Steve's door.
It is Thor who opens it. The smell of ozone hits Bucky's nose-
storm
-and he tenses, just barely, but Thor notices. He looks at Bucky measuringly. Bucky wishes for a bigger gun than the ones he is carrying, but is pretty sure that there is no gun big enough. He stands his ground, nevertheless, and gives back in equal measure. It seems that Steve has gotten better at making friends. He used to be awful at it. Bucky approves of the change, even though it makes him feel a bit redundant.
"I am Thor," the god of thunder says, finally, and lets Bucky pass.
"Bucky," Bucky answers, haltingly. He has been called many names and is yet to identify with one, but Steve calls him Bucky and it is not a bad name. It's like an old sweater, comforting in its familiarity but a bit worn. It doesn't quite fit anymore.
Thor leads the way to the living room and Bucky follows, feeling out of place.
When Steve sees him, he smiles, relieved and grateful and Bucky knows that coming was the right choice. He wasn't sure, because Steve used to prefer to grieve alone.
They hug and Steve clutches at him and it's-
been a long time since you left me in that hotel with my memory barely back
-a sentence spoken in a grip. He hugs back, I'm sorry, it says, and Steve carefully avoids his eyes when he releases him. He squeezes Bucky's shoulders briefly and backs away a step, keeping close, but giving him space, as if Bucky is the one who is grieving. It breaks Bucky's heart.
Perhaps it's time to stop running, he thinks, and Steve must be a telepath because he takes one look at him and smiles brightly. It is radiant, if a bit crooked around the edges, with grief.
"Bruce was right." Steve says quietly and doesn't explain.
"I won't apologize," Bucky says, weeks later, when they are all at the Avengers tower, sitting and drinking and Tony mentions Howard and Maria, bitterly, the hurt child peeking from behind a grown man.
Steve goes still beside him and everyone else falls quiet.
"You just did," Tony says, seriously and Bucky wants to say no.
It was a beautiful hit, so beautiful that for years no one even knew that it was a hit and even now, no one can prove it. He wants to say: Your mother didn't die instantly. She chocked on her own blood.
It was a mission well done. He remembers his handlers being pleased.
Tony smiles, sadly, as if he is able to read his mind, and drains his glass.
Natasha corners him, later that same night, and her body language radiates menace and threat. Her arms are crossed, "Steve is my friend," she says, and her tone is flat. It is the only reason she hasn't protested him being at the Avengers tower. "I know what kind of training you had. I am not convinced that you are safe to be around." One of her hands drops a bit and she touches a spot on her belly, as if unconsciously. They both know it's not. That is where he shot her, that first time.
Her eyes are cold when he meets them. "No one knows my triggers," he tells her calmly.
"You can't know that."
"I can."
She sneers, "You could have missed one. All it takes is-"
"You could have as well," he interrupts her and the implication makes her blanch. "I know about your triggers." She takes a step back and pulls out her gun.
Her eyes are wide and frightened but her aim is steady; She won't miss.
"I do not know the words." He says and she breathes out slowly, relived. He thinks about not saying anything else, but he doesn't like being cornered and he doesn't like being threatened, regardless of the intentions behind it. "Anymore," he continues and the fingers of her free hand twitch.
"They wiped that memory," she states, comprehending.
"It might come back. Everything else is coming back." His gut churns for threatening her with that of all things. He shouldn't have, he knows he shouldn't have. He's no better than they are.
Natasha's finger hovers over the safety and-
Steve is very silent when he wants to be. They didn't even hear him approach. "What is going on here?" He asks, looking at the gun. There is readiness in his posture, and Natasha looks regretful for a moment before a stony mask falls over her face. Steve steps closer and faces her head on, turning his back to Bucky, choosing a side. Natasha does not look surprised.
"How much did you hear?"
"Everything. Even if one day he remembers your words, he won't ever use them against you."
You foolish, naïve bastard, Bucky thinks, I would if I had to. Natasha can read it on his face, but she doesn't say anything.
"I wouldn't have let him around any of you if I had thought he would hurt you." Steve tells her, with utmost seriousness.
She looks at him for a long moment, gauging the sincerity of his words, and then she puts the gun away, turns around and walks away. She trusts Steve a lot, but whether she trusts him enough not to murder Bucky in his sleep remains to be seen.
"Don't use them, Bucky." Steve tells him once they are alone.
"I won't."
"I know you lied. You remember her trigger phrases."
"If she doesn't force my hand, I won't use them. I know what it feels like to have someone use them against you. Plus, I'm pretty sure she knows one of mine." He fantasizes about cutting off her tongue. Perhaps he'll be able to relax and actually sleep in the same building as her if she was mute.
(he'll burn in hell, he knows, for all that he has done and has thought of doing)
Steve sighs, not surprised. "I wish you two would get along."
Bucky shrugs, "I did shoot her a couple of times."
"Winter Soldier shot her."
"I shot her. The Winter Soldier is not a separate persona, it is not someone else. It is me."
"You know it's not that simple."
"I know it's not. My shrink won't let me forget it."
"Good." Steve looks satisfied. It's not surprising; he did recommend the man, after all.
It is a month later when a Hydra sniper fires and nicks his heart. He has let down his guard. If Steve hadn't pushed him down, or if it had been a head shot-
Steve runs towards the place from whence the shot came and Banner presses down on the wound. Bucky's healing kicks in and it is not too long before he can move without bleeding out. He curls in on himself and nearly dislodges Banner's hands from where they are still putting pressure on the wound. It is not the pain from being shot keeping his eyes squeezed shut, but the soulhurt: they will never stop coming after him. He will never be free.
"You are not alone," Bruce whispers and Bucky opens his eyes to see the Hulk, endlessly hunted by the military, looking back. "None of us are," he continues, meaning the Avengers, "not anymore."
Bucky is not an Avenger. Except from Steve, all the other members of his team are dead.
He is not sure he even knows how to be a team player anymore.
"We were all loners once," Bruce says carefully, like he is sharing a secret, a wealth of meaning buried inside his words, "except maybe Thor," he amends after a second.
And Steve, Bucky thinks, because Steve was always a part of a team, even though in the beginning it was just the two of them.
The truth is, Bucky is not sure he even wants to be a part of a team again. He meets Bruce's eyes and there is something unbearably gentle in them, despite the green of forever angry Hulk shining out. It looks like understanding.
Steve comes back and crouches down next to them. He is furious. "They got away," he tells them and glances at Bucky, the fierceness turning into concern.
"He will be fine. He's healing fast." Bruce answers the unspoken question.
Steve breathes out a sigh of relief. "We will find them, Buck."
"And then someone else will come to take their place," he chokes out, desolate.
"We'll get them too," Steve says but they both know that Bucky will leave as soon as he heals completely.
There is no happily ever after for men like him.
(monsters die at the end of a book)
He calls sometimes. He knows Steve would come after him again if he didn't. And he still speaks with his psychiatrist, but that is just because the guy is funny, not because it helps him.
(It helps him.)
They talk about good men doing bad things and about agency and lack thereof. They talk about cookies and Indian food and why he cut his hair off; about Discovery channel and coupons because he watched a show and one kid actually got paid by the store at the end and-
After a couple of years, he returns to New York and buys an apartment. It is small and in the bad part of town, but it is his so it is wonderful. He buys a potted plant and hangs one of Steve's drawings on the wall. He buys colorful plates and a floor lamp and a shelf and he does it all hesitantly, afraid that someone will come and take it all away from him.
Clint's building is a couple of blocks away and sometimes they meet on the rooftops and chat. Sometimes it's about the TV shows they both watch, and sometimes it's about the color purple and squirrels. Once, only once, it's about crosshairs and the taste of liquid coins in one's mouth.
(sometimes you have to get close and use a knife)
Steve crashes on his couch when he wants to hide from the rest of the Avengers. They all know where he is, of course, but no one bothers him when he's at Bucky's. Not since the fork incident. Forkident, as it is known in some circles, to Tony's eternal delight.
Bucky passes next to one of Stark Industries buildings every day. From time to time he stops, leans on the wall of the building and talks with JARVIS until Happy comes out to glare at him.
He's barely been in his apartment for six months when Hydra agents break in and attack him.
Afterwards, he shows up at the Avenger's tower, silent, with deadened eyes. Natasha lets him in and doesn't ask about the blood stains on his clothes.
He falls asleep in front of a giant TV and is woken up hours later by Thor's booming laughter.
Steve thrusts a pizza at him as soon as he opens his eyes, "We're watching a movie."
Bucky looks around to see himself surrounded by the Avengers, all in the process of settling down in front of the TV. He falls asleep again as soon as he finishes his pizza.
It is almost dawn when he wakes up again. He gets up, careful not to wake up the others.
JARVIS stops him before he leaves, "I wouldn't recommend going back to your apartment."
There are brains splattered all over his walls, he knows. He put them there.
"I have a phone number for a real estate agent that can help you find a new apartment," JARVIS offers, "She will start working in a few hours. In the meantime, there is a room you can stay in. If not, there is a gym here. I am certain Captain Rogers wouldn't mind you using one of his special punching bags."
Steve joins him a couple of hours later.
"I'm sorry," he says, "I know you liked that apartment."
"Yeah, well…" He punches the bag viciously.
"Buck-"
"I'll find a new one. JARVIS knows an agent."
Steve nods.
"Eight people."
Steve doesn't comment.
"They are dead now."
"You need a hobby." Steve declares, out of the blue. "Maybe dancing. You like to dance. Or maybe you could go to school. Do science. You were always interested in science."
"I'm not going to school."
Steve smirks, "Doctor Barnes."
"Do you have any idea how many years you need to go to school to get a PhD? No, don't answer that. You hang out with Tony and Bruce; you probably think it takes a year or two."
"Wait, it doesn't?"
"Oh, shut up."
"It's not like you have anything better to do."
"Hydra-"
"-will come after you no matter what you do. Why not have some fun in the meantime? You can't hide forever."
"I'm not going to school. You go to school."
"Fine. We'll both go."
"What?"
"I never did get my art degree."
"You can't be serious."
Steve is serious.
He attends lectures and feels like an old man. Everyone around him is so damn young. He doesn't look too out of place though. Not all students are teenagers and he doesn't age quite right either, not since Zola. Steve had looked ecstatic when they had found out about it. Ecstatic and trying hard to hide it because he is the same and he doesn't want to be alone in this but unlike Erskine, Zola didn't ask, and where Steve had said yes, Bucky had screamed no.
He is just about to go meet with Steve for lunch when the Skrulls attack.
The fight is short but glorious. His clothes are a bit torn and there are cuts on his face, already scabbing, when he finally meets with Steve. He laughs like a mad man because it felt good to tear the Skrulls apart and he hates that, even though they were the ones who initiated the attack and had it coming.
(they may bleed green and not red, but they whimper just the same)
He's tried to be good, he really did, but violence is in his blood and it is too late now.
He could bleed himself dry and it wouldn't bleed the violence out.
Steve looks at him, "It's okay," he says and Bucky is vividly reminded of the old Steve, that vicious little scrawny bastard with the loudest fight me attitude of all the people he has ever met. "All you need to do is learn how to direct it," Steve continues and Bucky despairs because for the most of his life, others have done the directing for him. He's only been free for a few years and most of them were spent running.
"You're doing great," Steve assures him and pushes his sketchbook towards him, "Look; I drew the Hulk in a tutu."
The end
