Barnes awoke to the smell of eggs. Cooking eggs and he felt strange. When was the last time he had smelt honest homemade food?
'Too long.' James answered for him, and he knew that would be the best answer he would receive.
He groaned and shifted on the couch, confusion filling him at how he had managed to fall asleep on it like he had.
The confusion left him as he heard a voice speak from behind. His eyes instantly snapped open and his body went taut as he sat up quickly and reached for a nonexistent weapon.
"Hey man calm down! It's just me, Clint!"
He turned to see said man standing a distance from him, his empty hands held up to show he was unarmed.
"You passed out like a damn near dead person last night, remember?"
Barnes nodded slowly as the memory returned to him.
"That's good. Except now you look like a zombie. Do you need a shower? Bathroom is that way." He said, pointing to their right where a hallway branched off the living room.
'Oh god, a shower would be heaven.' James pointed out to him when he paused. 'Barton isn't going to attack you while you're in there. If he wanted to kill you, he would have done so while you slept.'
Barnes resisted a shudder at the reminder of letting himself be so vulnerable and nodded to the other man. "Yes I could use one." He stood and reflexively stretched out, his joints popping and muscles shuddering in protest.
"Your arm can get wet right?"
"Yes its fine." He replied.
"Cool. Breakfast will be done soon so don't take too long."
He nodded in consent and the cautiously retreated to the bathroom. Once there he stripped quickly, turned the water on and ducked into the spray.
The hot water felt like heaven, and washing his hair was even better. He would have stayed in there forever had he been able to, but the prospect of food made him hurry his way through getting clean.
Once he was out he stopped and realized he had no clothes except for the filthy ones he had just removed. He wrapped one of Barton's towels around his waist and moved towards the living room. "Barton do you have anything I can wear?"
"It's Clint man. The room next to the bathroom is yours for now. I put a couple pair of sweatpants and shirts that might fit you on the bed." The man responded, respectfully keeping his gaze away.
"Thank you." He entered the mentioned room and quickly pulled the clothes on before moving to the kitchen and then hesitatingly sitting at the table.
The archer turned away from the stove and walked to him, placing an omelet before him with a smile. It looked so good that Barnes instantly began to dig into it like a starved man.
"No chocking," Barton instructed as he sat down across from him.
He stopped abruptly with the fork half way to his mouth and then nodded. He received a nod in return and then a contemplative look.
"So Barnes, random question, what is the most recent memory you have of Steve? Like not in this century."
The sudden inquiry caused him to drop his utensil completely and look up at the other man with wide blue eyes. He was given a sheepish smile with a little shrug.
"Didn't mean to startle you man. I'm just here to help right? I thought maybe talking about things will help jostle more?"
'He's right.'
"You're right." He repeated James's thought. "Of course you are. I need the push to try and remember. The most recent memory is of falling off of the train. His look of complete devastation and loss." His voice had seeped from the matter of fact tone to one of sadness as he pictured the Captains eyes as he screamed out his name.
"Shit." Barton muttered quietly. "I'm sorry Barnes. Do you remember the whole day?"
"No." He stated simply and then frowned and submerged himself into his mind.
What did he remember of that day? What besides his last fight as Bucky Barnes? Besides his death?
'Cold.' He thought. 'It was cold.'
'Steve was warm though. You no longer had to wrap yourself around him to keep his blood flowing.' James spoke up. 'You remember the early morning, waking to your own personal heater. Just focus.'
"I think I remember the morning." He voiced out loud. "Those mountains were so cold, colder than anything I had ever felt." He paused and concentrated on the words James had said. "I can faintly remember thinking that I was glad Steve was big now. That he was the one curled around me, that he was healthy enough to no longer need my body heat to survive."
His eyes were stuck on the plate in front of him as he pictured that small tent and even smaller cot that had somehow held both of their large bodies together. He was so focused on trying to bring up details that he missed the surprised look on Barton's face.
"Wait so you and Steve, you were more than just best friends?"
He didn't register the shocked tone and just nodded his head. "I'm certain yes. I remember Steve always being my everything. I can see myself holding him, can almost remember what his kiss was like. But what if I am not remembering actual events? What if they are just thoughts I had. I cant tell the difference between the memory of an event, and the memory of a thought or impression I had once had. "He glanced up and frowned when he registered the surprise on his face.
"Steve hasn't said we were?" He frowned sadly. "We probably weren't then."
"Hey no! That's not necessarily true. Steve hasn't really said anything to me about you. I think memories of you made him sad because he missed you so much. It's hard to remember that Steve was literally asleep for seventy years. It's like he went and took a nap and then was suddenly awake to a whole new world. To him though, you had died two years ago. His timeline went 1944, 2012. Nothing in between." He gave a reassuring smile. "With no time to grieve, it makes sense that talking about you hurts."
"So potentially, I could not be imaging it?"
"Yeah of course. I don't know how to differ between a real memory and a remembered thought, but I can help you figure it out."
"How?"
"Uhh well shit good question!" Barton frowned and leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the rear legs as he studied Barnes. "Let's see, do you have any memories that are clear?"
He shook his head. "Nothing completely concrete. I remember a lot of the war, but it's all pieced together in snippets like misplaced puzzle pieces that have the same theme but don't belong to the same puzzle. Most of the things I can see because James points them out. I see or read something and he'll whisper a sentence or a word, an emotion or a thought, and a picture begins to form."
"Okay I'm confused. Who's James?"
"Myself, me, who I used to be." He shrugged and glanced down to the metal hand. "I know I am James Barnes, I recognize his face in the mirror, but when I think of myself it feels wrong. It feels like I am not suited to be a man like him. I feel like the things I have done with this body has tarnished who I should be. So I don't let myself, not fully, but he's still there. He has the memories and emotions, and as I prove myself worthy he lets them out, lets me have them."
"So you still feel like you're the Winter Soldier?"
He shook his head. "No. The Soldier had no name, no emotions, and no thoughts. I have those now. I'm not an Asset anymore I'm a man that needs a name, but I'm still unclean and unfit to be James Barnes."
Barton stared at him with his mouth open in obvious shock. He slowly blinked and then shook his head, as if to clear it out. "Barnes, damn that's, I don't even know what to say. You feel like two different people?"
"No. James and I are the same person, he's just the fuller, healthy version. He explained it like; he's the next step for me. When I am comfortable with what he knows and thinks, I can start calling myself James. Until last night, I still thought of myself as The Soldier, merely because I didn't realize that referring to me as an inhuman name was counterproductive to becoming Bucky again."
"That's so confusing. Doesn't your head hurt?"
"All the time. I cant handle James's emotions. Whenever something comes to my mind that I have done as The Soldier, he is filled with guilt and it physically hurts."
"Holy fuck." Barton shook his head. "I couldn't handle that, how the hell are you?"
"He's grounding. When you ask a question I let him fill it in, just barely, and then concentrate on it, try and bring forth what he says." Barnes shrugged. "It would be hard for me if I knew anything else, but I don't have memories of being anything else. Even as The Soldier I think he was always there. Twice I ran away because I felt something, once to Paris and once to Brooklyn. I think what I need is for James, Bucky, to be the thoughts and emotions in charge of my body and the Winter Soldier to only be there in the back if he is needed."
"Because he will never go away." Barton stated for him. "That's a lot to have to carry. No wonder you sought out help, and I am really glad I agreed to do so. If I hadn't and Steve found out, he'd kick my ass for forcing you to do it alone."
Barnes gave him a very small smile and nodded. "Thank you. I don't know how to wrap my head around everything. I don't remember fear, but I think I am afraid."
"Understandable." He smiled back. "Where would you like to start then?"
"If you wouldn't mind me paying you back when I can, I could really use some real clothes. I'd feel more human, and James has forbidden me from stealing."
Barton laughed and pushed away from the table. He walked over and offered Barnes his hand. The assassin stared at it for a moment before reaching out with his right hand and grasped it, pulling himself to his feet.
The blonde kept the grip on his hand for a moment and smiled companionably. "Don't worry about paying me back. We're friends now man. Feeling human is a perfect first step. Shopping it is then?"
He released Barton's hand and nodded. "Shopping it is."
AN: I hope that Bucky's mind and thoughts are making sense! I wanted him to have a way to process everything that has happened to him. Hopefully i am not making the split mind thing too confusing!