Oh, your reviews. You don't understand the way they make my heart swell. Thank you for your reading loyalty, and enjoyment of what I write. The idea that I give you peoples feels and angst-ridden emotional rides is just...amazing to me. XD And I do have such plans for this. Actually, Apollo's character will make a lot of sense once we actually get into him. I think. Which might be starting this chapter. But we'll see how much the characters run off on me again. XD And I wanted something cute and funny for this flashback. So there's a mild gay joke at Bucky's expense, back-in-the-day style. XD Enjoy!~
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"There he goes again. Can't walk five feet without a parade for Captain America. Poor fella. Most guys would light up like a Christmas tree to have all those girls hangin' on him, but he flushes up like a tomato." Dugan chuckled.
Bucky watched Steve manuever through the crowd. They'd had to pass through a civilian area on the way to their next mission. Sure enough, Steve seemed more embarrassed than please. Steve glanced back at them, and Bucky shot him a grin as he waggled his brows. Had he not been the oh-so-dignified Captain America, Bucky was sure Steve would stuck his tongue out. "Never was much of a ladies man." Bucky chuckled.
"That's right, you grew up with him, didn't you?" Falsworth noted. "Must have been an adventure, growing up with Captain America."
"You could say that." Bucky agreed with a private smile. His shared history with Steve wasn't a secret exactly, but no one knew just how deep their past and bonds ran. Steve didn't exactly advertise how frail he'd used to be, even if he'd been touted as an engineered super-soldier. "Never a dull moment with Steve around." he said, fondly.
"The way you say that..." Falsworth trailed off, he seemed thoughtful and amused.
Bucky frowned. "What?"
"Il porte son cœur sur ses manches ...décoré avec des étoiles et de rayures."* Dernier sniggered.
"Wait, what'd you say? What the Hell does that mean?" Bucky demanded, and the other men exchanged a glance and laughed good-naturedly at Bucky's expense.
...
"Bouquet de fous..."*
Steve had had a clock to go off of this time, and around three hours had passed when Bucky, whose sleep seemed less fitful than on the previous occasions, finally woke up. And he was speaking French, if Steve didn't miss his mark. What kind of dream had he been having? How was he going to be?
Bucky's eyes found the ceiling, and then slid slowly over to Steve where they settled alongside a frown on Bucky's small lips.
"Hey, pal." Steve tried. He received no answer and felt his heart starting to sink when Bucky spoke quietly.
"Hello."
Steve's mouth fell open a little and he righted himself quickly. "Having a good dream?" he asked.
Bucky considered the question for a long moment, and just when Steve had resolved to change the subject, Bucky [after some internal debate] asked, "What makes a dream...good?"
If this isn't progress, I'll eat my shield. "It, uh...well...you don't...hurt afterwards?" he tried, not sure how else to explain it so that Bucky might understand.
Bucky seemed to consider that and then nodded slowly. There was an air of skepticism about him, but he replied anyway. "It was...good. There were men. People were...cheering for you. And then they laughed at...Bucky."
Steve wracked his brain for what memory Bucky could possibly be referring to. "Men...the...Howling Commandos? Other soldiers?"
Bucky stiffened at the word 'soldier', and Steve back-tracked. "Why were they laughing?"
Bucky fell silent a moment and Steve feared he'd slipped up, but Bucky finally replied. "I don't know. Bucky said...that there was never a dull moment with you around. Another man replied in French. Il porte son cœur sur ses manches ...décoré avec des étoiles et de rayures...And the other men laughed." he said, matter-of-factly.
Steve really had no idea what he was talking about, and while he'd known Bucky spoke Russian-the fluent French was news to him. "I don't speak French, Buck. What's that mean?"
Bucky searched for the words a moment and translated. "'He wears his heart on his sleeve, decorated in stars and stripes'."
Steve stared a moment before understanding dawned and he choked before he laughed a little. Bucky frowned.
"Why are you...laughing?"
Steve wasn't sure of a way to explain it simply that wouldn't make it sound potentially insulting or confusing. Homophobia was a big thing in those days, but that didn't mean they didn't joke about it with each other. Steve and Bucky's brotherhood was considered fair game for jokes by the team. He assumed all aspects of that would be lost on Bucky at present though. "They were...joking that y-...that Bucky...really liked me."
Bucky didn't seem to grasp the concept, and he certainly didn't get the bigger picture. "That he was loyal?" Bucky clarified.
"Ah...yeah. That he was loyal." Steve agreed.
Bucky's frown deepened. "Why does that...make you laugh?"
"It's...just funny." He could tell Bucky didn't get that either. "Funny is...funny is..." How to describe it? "It's...amusing? Entertaining?"
That seemed to make some sense to Bucky. Or so Steve thought. "It's entertaining when a target believes they've escaped you, and then they find out they're wrong." The statement itself was plainitive, but the implications and the slight curl of Bucky's lip made Steve ill.
Steve felt his humor drain at that, and he struggled to find a response. "That's not...ah..." He bit his lip as Bucky stared at him, and he chose a different route. "It's a little late for breakfast." Since it was around three p.m. then. "But let's go out anyway, alright? Put on your clothes and we'll get going." Bucky continued to stare and Steve thought he might object, but strangely docile, Bucky threw off his blanket and began to do as asked.
Around fifteen minutes later, Steve nearly had Bucky out the door when he was met by Tony and Bruce. He glanced at Bucky and noticed a change instantly. The quiet, docile expression had been replaced with the deadpan chill of the Winter Soldier as Bucky's eyes narrowed on Tony and Bruce. Son of a...
"And you're going...where?" Tony queried, a glance between Steve and Bucky, who was currently wearing an 'I 3 Captain America shirt'. Bucky hadn't understood that either.
...
"The writing on the shirt is senseless." Bucky said as he pulled the shirt on and regarded it with a frown.
"It's...ah...Tony's idea of a joke, I think...it's 'I heart Captain America'." As expected, Bucky didn't get that at all. "'I heart' is a way of saying...I love." Another miss. "Love is like...like. Loyalty." It was really a helluva lot more than that, but it'd be hard to explain even if Bucky weren't so...not emotionally understanding at the moment.
Bucky's air of skepticism had returned, and he continued to frown. "That symbol looks nothing like a heart."
Steve didn't want to dwell on the fact that Bucky probably knew chillingly well what a real heart would look like. "Yeah, guess they didn't know how to draw one. Let's go, okay, pal?" He didn't want to push his luck with calling the other 'Buck' or 'Bucky', but he hadn't objected to 'pal' so far.
...
"We're getting something to eat."
"There's food here. Or I can order-in. What're you in the mood for? Chinese? Pizza? I know a great Italian restaurant on-"
"-We're going out, Tony." Steve cut in firmly, and he stood a bit between Tony and Bucky as he looked down at Tony and made it clear he wasn't budging on the matter.
Tony frowned. "No, you're not, actually. Every time the hobo-soldier gets out, bad things happen. Property damage. Injured children. Headaches."
"Look at him! What do you think he can do like that?" Bucky bristled at that.
"Well, we know he couldn't hold Captain America with a knife at his throat-oh-wait...he did that. Crazy."
"He's getting better. He's remembering things." Steve said, and it half sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as Tony. But he shouldn't have to explain himself, he was an Avenger just as much as Tony. If he wanted to take charge of Bucky, Tony couldn't tell him what he could and couldn't do. "I've got it handled. So, please, get out of my way." He added the please to be a bit polite, but his tone made it clear he wasn't actually asking.
"Really? It's handled? Okay." Tony addressed Bucky. "Who are you?" Bucky didn't reply and Tony insisted. "Come on. Tell me, who are you? What's your name?"
"Tony-"
"I'm the Winter Soldier." Bucky replied evenly.
Steve winced and tried not to let himself be disappointed. He couldn't expect Bucky to change overnight. They'd made progress as it was, progress he didn't want Tony ruining.
"Right! Gold star for you, kid." Tony looked back to Steve as he poked a finger into his chest. "The mini-pain stays, final answe-" he trailed off as Bucky suddenly jerked and slammed a small fist into a very sensitive area on Tony's body. Bucky may not have had his full strength, but it didn't take much right there.
Tony gasped and doubled over a bit, and Bucky made as if to punch him but Steve quickly grabbed his wrists. "Bucky! What are you doing?" he demanded.
Tony stood up straight and glared, clearly pissed. "What did I tell you? He's a little menace."
Bucky frowned and tried to jerk his wrists away from Steve. "He put his hands on you. I stopped him."
For a moment, nobody spoke. And then it dawned on Steve. Bucky was protecting him. Tony had poked Steve and Bucky had interpreted it as a threat...and protected him. The wave of warmth and relief that welled up within him was nearly enough to make his eyes water again. Aside from the fact that it showed definite improvement and hope for Bucky, it felt...it felt familiar. Like the old days. Bucky was always there for him. Steve released Bucky's wrists, and instead set a hand on Bucky's shoulder to give it a light squeeze. "Sorry I snapped at you, pal. I misunderstood. Thank you."
"You're thanking him for hitting the family jewels? You're supposed to be rehabilitating him." Tony growled.
Bruce chose then to speak. "And I think he's proven that he's doing very well at that. So we're going to back to our business, and letting them get on with theirs." Bucky eyed Bruce, but there was clearly less chill in his eyes for Bruce than there was for Tony now.
"That's not your call-"
"-We're leaving. Or should I tell Pepper about Elaine?"
Tony blanched before his eyes narrowed. "Nothing happened! You know that!"
"I'm sure Pepper would agree." Bruce said, in a way that suggested she really wouldn't.
Tony scowled, and seemed more like the sullen child in the group than Bucky currently was. "Black-mailed in my own tower. Unbelievable. Fine." he turned on his heels and left, grumbling about traitors and the nerve of some people.
Bruce watched him go and then addressed Bucky. "Despite what he seems like, he does care about Steve too. He wouldn't actually hurt him. Just so you know. Nor would I."
"I won't let him anyway." Bucky replied archly, and Bruce lifted a brow even as Steve's jaw yet again nearly dropped in astonishment.
"So...your mission is over?" Bruce chanced to ask.
Bucky stilled at that, and seemed to mull it over before he replied lowly. "I got my other mission first."
Bruce glanced at Steve who shot Bruce a puzzled look, and then just slightly shook his head and mouthed, I'll tell you later. Bruce nodded. "Enjoy your meal." he said kindly, and he flashed Bucky a smile. Bucky didn't smile back, but he didn't glare either, and Bruce for his part considered that progress as well as he headed off.
...
When Bucky and Steve had gotten down the block from Stark Tower, and he was certain there wouldn't be another interruption, he stopped to ruffle Bucky's hair. "Thanks for-"
Bucky jerked, and eyed Steve as he raised a hand instinctively.
Steve pulled his hands back, palms splayed. "Settle down, pal." he reassured the other quickly. "I was just ruffling your hair. No worries."
"..Why?"
Something else he couldn't readily explain. "Well...if someone does something nice...or funny...or they've done a good job...or you just...feel affection for someone...you ruffle their hair."
Bucky seemed dubious again. "Why did you...ruffle," he said the word as though it were distasteful, "mine?"
Steve smiled. "You protected me back there, pal. I appreciate it. He really wouldn't have hurt me, but still...you did good. And it was nice. And I...I just care about you. That's a way to show it." It was a little more honest than he'd generally be, but he hoped that in explaining his feelings, being that open...maybe something would click with Bucky. Maybe he'd strike a chord.
Bucky didn't entirely seem to grasp the concept, but he seemed satisfied with Steve's answer at least. "I performed my mission well." he clarified, and Steve frowned.
"That's the second time you've said that...what mission?" Because last he'd checked, wasn't Bucky's mission to kill him?
Bucky's jaw tightened slightly, and his gaze slid to Steve a moment before it slid away. Steve waited for a reply, thinking that Bucky was mulling it over again, but eventually he realized he wasn't going to get an answer. "Why did you protect me?" Steve didn't want to question it, he didn't want to point it out if Bucky was trying to avoid it, but he had to understand. Becuase he'd hoped that it meant Bucky was shining through. Had he gone and convinced himself that protecting Steve was a mission somehow, without any emotional reason?
"Why does it matter?" Bucky finally hissed.
"It just...matters to me." Steve said softly.
Bucky stopped walking then, and this time, Steve could tell he really was just thinking it over. His gaze was narrowed on the ground and he frowned. When he looked back at Steve, the docile Bucky of the morning seemed gone, and it was a more chilling version that remained. More of the Winter Soldier. "I haven't decided yet."
"Decided what?"
"Which mission." Bucky said simply, and he turned to continue walking, which apparently marked the end of the conversation.
Steve knew that Bucky's mission had been to kill him. But when he'd 'protected' him from Tony, he'd mentioned he got his other mission first. If it led to Bucky protecting him, it couldn't have been from Hydra...so was it a mission that Bucky had?
Steve tried not to think about the fact that it meant Bucky was still considering killing him. He chose to focus on the glimmer of a connection he'd made, that the other had chosen the night before not to kill him. "Well, either way...I'm still going to protect you. No mission. Just because I want to."
Bucky gave Steve the look, the almost deadpan one that managed to convey he was questioning Steve's sanity, but then he looked ahead and that was the end of that.
...
When Bruce entered the lab after Tony, he hadn't been entirely sure what to expect. But it seemed that Tony felt the silent treatment was applicable punishment for black-mailing him in his own tower. Except that Tony should have known himself well enough to know that staying silent for any length of time exceeding five minutes was pretty much impossible.
"You shouldn't have done that." Tony said suddenly, although his gaze was still pointedly focused on his computer screen. Bruce, who had taken up residence on a nearby terminal, didn't favor him with a glance.
"I did though." Bruce said simply.
Tony's hand froze mid-swipe on the computer screen, before he slowly turned to face Bruce who obligingly turned. "I don't care what tricks Steve taught him. He's been here for what, three days? Most of it's he's spent unconscious. Because he tries to bash his head in. Or kill us. Or run away and kill other people. He's under some kind of who-the-Hell-knows-what, and you want to leave him with Captain Bleeding Heart as a chaperone?"
"And you'd rather keep him locked up, even if it decreases the probability of his recovery."
"What probability? You can feed that crap to Stars and Stripes, but don't think it'll fly with me. Even if he could get all his memories back, even if he could learn to process them and not be an emotionally deficient psychopath...what's he coming back to? The knowledge that he's spent the past seventy years of his miserable excuse for a life murdering people in cold-blood for a bunch of crazy terrorists? That he tried kill his best friend? That every one he ever knew or loved, except the best friend he tried to kill, is dead? It'll be PTSD on steroids."
"He can't help what they made him." Bruce said quietly, and tactless Tony didn't get the hint.
"You people keep saying that. Yeah, boo hoo, torture victim, tragic backstory, much sad. Doesn't change what he is. The Winter Soldier is a monster, you think good ole Bucky Barnes wants to wake up to that?"
"I think even a monster could find something worth living for, and changing for. I would hope so, anyway." Bruce's gaze slid back to the computer screen as his jaw clenched slightly, and Tony finally made the connection.
"You're nothing like him." Tony said immediately.
Bruce smiled mirthlessly. "I suppose not. I brought my monster on myself. His was forced on him. I can still be me sometimes, but him? He's been held under water for seventy years."
"But you haven't-"
"Haven't what? Gone on cold-blooded killing sprees? And if the Hulk had been inclined to that sort of thing, would I be another monster for you to lock up?"
"Don't be so dramatic, Jolly." Tony retorted, but his tone was too sharp and too quick. It was defensive and uncomfortable. Bruce knew he'd hit a nerve.
"Don't change the subject." Bruce replied evenly.
Tony frowned at him then, and after a moment, shrugged as he said coolly. "It doesn't matter who it is. If someone falls off the bandwagon, I'll do what I've gotta do."
The pair stared at each other before Bruce's mirthless smile widened. "And finally, honesty." Bruce started to turn away, and Tony's expression twitched.
"Hey, we aren't finished, these codes-" Bruce left without a word and Tony was left to stare after him with a frown.
Bruce tried not to be hurt, tried to remember that it was Tony and he couldn't be held to the same standards as...people who weren't Tony. And while he knew Tony wasn't as cold as he made out to be, he did believe that Tony would lock him up in a heart beat if it came to that. Tony was many things, forgiving not being one of them. And while Bruce would want to be stopped if he ever grew truly monsterous...Tony's complete lack of empathy about the helplessness of that situation was...troubling.
...
Back in the lab, Tony had been determined to ignore the black-mailing traitor, but he found himself distracted and agitated, and resolved to calm himself by going for a little drive. And possibly drinking copious amounts of alcohol. And possibly attempting to spy on Stars and Stripes and the hobo-soldier.
And of course, none of this had to do with the fact that Bruce was clearly upset with him. Why would Tony care about something trivial like another person's feelings?
He was just...thirsty.
...
Steve had tried asking Bucky where he might want to go, he had tried asking what he might like to eat, he'd even told him to simply pick a place. But Bucky still didn't grasp [or want to accept] the concept of 'want' and he didn't seem to want to make a decision. So in the end, they wound up in a hole-in-the-wall diner on the corner. Which led to another decision Bucky was unwilling to make.
"What do you wanna eat? You can have anything." he pointed to the menu in Bucky's hands encouragingly.
Bucky glanced at it, at least, but in the end he said simply. "It doesn't make a difference. I'm not hungry."
Steve knew there was no way Bucky wasn't hungry, he just didn't know how to register his physical wants and needs very well. "Come on, pal, pick something." he urged, hoping that the act would give him another break through the way the shower had.
But instead, Bucky's lips curved into a frown as he pointedly shoved the menu towards Steve. "Stop calling me pal...and I'm not hungry."
Steve had wondered how long he'd get away with that. "Look, I'm not calling you Winter Soldier. If you don't want 'Bucky' or 'pal', fine, but I have to call you something."
"You really don't." Bucky replied, and there was a note of sarcasm in his voice that so very Bucky.
"How about James? You hated it before but...well, it is your name." Steve could see the beginnings of protest on Bucky's lips, and he held up a hand. "Even if you think you're the Winter Soldier now, you were him. You have his memories. You saw the memorial. Even if you're...not Bucky...you admit you were born James Barnes, don't you?"
"I never said that."
Steve wasn't sure why every time he gained a little ground, he lost more than he'd started with. "You came from somewhere, you didn't just appear in the lab one day. You know that, don't you?"
"Obviously." Bucky growled. "But it doesn't matter where I came from. Here and now, I'm a weapon. I am the Winter Soldier. Whatever game you're playing, it doesn't change that."
Steve took the words like a punch to the gut. Bucky was speaking coherently, he was replying with full sentences and awareness and not trying to slam his head into walls. But everything he was saying was so...wrong.
Before he could reply, the waitress came to take their orders. For himself, he ordered a burger that he was pretty sure he didn't really have the stomach for anymore. And he ordered Bucky's on a whim. Pancakes. Because Bucky had liked them so much. Although looking at him now, it was getting harder to see him again.
...
Winter had woken up as he'd come to expect waking up. To the face of Steven Rogers. The previous night's events flitted through his brain. Was it all real? He remembered clinging to the captain, he couldn't seem to pull himself away. Winter had possibly had a chance to finish him, to complete his mission, and he had chosen not to. Why? Was it the...memories? Memories that he couldn't claim as his own. They were in his head, they were of a man with his face, but that man was a stranger to him. How could he say that they were his memories? Why should they hold any meaning or value to him?
And yet, he hadn't killed Steven Rogers. Not yet.
That being said, he had resolved that the captain didn't actively seek his demise. If this was all some scheme to manipulate him, the captain was doing an excellent job of playing complete idiot about it. He had never met someone like the captain. Steven Rogers was naive and idealisitic, full of unnecessary sentiments and gestures and expressions that Winter couldn't begin to identify. And he asked such pointless, annoying questions. He had asked about Winter's mission, been clarified on the fact that Winter still considered killing him a mission of his, and yet...he claimed to want to protect him?
Want. Another word he understood by basic definition, but attributed no meaning to. There was no want for a weapon. Wants were driven by biological desires and whims of the mind, they were fleeting, inconsequentional things that distracted from missions. They were unnecessary for him, while the captain seemed to be ruled by them.
In the meanwhile, he'd begun to notice things had changed for himself though. The crippling pain he'd experienced before, the black outs, the inconsistent reality...it had stopped. There were still voices and flashbacks, memories, and that...incident the night before with the imposter Winter Soldier but...still. His mind felt clearer than it had even when he'd been on his missions, when Hydra had shocked him clean of the unnecessary things. Thoughts were less systematic, and he found himself...pondering.
"He'll take the pancakes." The captain ordered for him, after he'd given up on trying to make Winter choose. What was the purpose of variety? Meals should be eaten strictly as necessary to maintain proper nourishment and body function. It seemed so pointless to waste time considering something meaningless like...what food you want.
And then silence descended on the table as the waitress left, and Winter found himself the receiver of a stare that made him...what was the word? Uncomfortable.
Awkward. Said that niggling voice in the back of his mind. He ignored it.
Winter wasn't sure what the captain's aim was, but he stared right back without blinking. If he thought to force Winter to make some admission, he was sorely mistaken.
After a moment, and an expression that made Winter think the captain might actually be looking for something, the captain opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by the chime of a cellular device. The captain seemed startled and checked the caller I.D. before he shot a glance at Winter. Was he seeking permission? Why? "Your phone." Winter said simply, because all of the captain's silent, strange behavior was becoming tiresome.
The captain seemed to hesitate, and he glanced back towards the door of the diner and then it clicked for Winter.
"I won't attempt to escape. It wouldn't benefit me." And it wouldn't. Were he in his body, it might be a different story. He had nowhere to go in a planned sense, but he could always find something. As he was now though, it would be...ill-advised.
His answer seemed to disappoint the captain somehow, which was yet another in the long list of things that made no sense where Captain America was concerned.
"Then...I'll be right back." The phrasing made it sound like a question. Winter just stared at him, and finally the captain walked to the front of the diner to call the person back. He noted that the captain kept glancing back at him though, which was to be expected. Why should he believe anything Winter said? It's not the first time I've lied to him.
The thought came unbidden, that niggling voice but stronger. A memory came to him.
"Bucky! What the Hell? What happened to you?" Steve's hand cupped Bucky's cheek as he looked the other over in concern. He had gone with Agent Carter for a meeting with Stark, he'd been gone overnight. When he got back to camp and found Bucky, Bucky was sporting a cut cheek and a black eye.
Bucky pulled away and gave Steve a wry grin. "Nothin' I feel like sharin' with my Captain."
Steve frowned, not deterred by his attempt at deflection. "Bucky..." his tone was stern.
Bucky rolled his eyes and clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Relax, Rogers. I had a little disagreement with another officer. It's handled."
Disapproval was obvious in Steve's eyes. "Picking fights, really? What for this time?"
There was a strange twist to Bucky's lips as he replied. "He took something of mine. I wanted it back. Like I said, it's handled."
"We're in a war, Buck. We shouldn't be fighting each other." Steve chastised.
Bucky hated that as much as he loved it. Stupid, naive, goody-two shoes Steve. Loyal, brave, selfless Steve. He didn't want to be told off about his duty, he didn't want Steve's idealstic views thrown in his face. But still, he was glad that becoming Captain America hadn't changed Steve, glad that he was still above the muck and the war. That was the whole point, wasn't it? That was why Bucky especially didn't mind getting his hands dirty: because it meant Steve didn't have to. "Yeah, yeah, Captain Cuddles." he drawled, and Steve's expression flickered annoyance even as his lips twitched in amusement. "Now can we go get some breakfast? I'm starvin'." His voice was playful, his expression light, but it was all for show. All for Steve's benefit. And even though technically he hadn't lied, he hadn't told the truth either-not like Steve had wanted, it was the same as a lie.
But it was necessary.
...
Bucky drew back as the knife cut across his cheek, and a quick fist found it's way to his face. The prisoner had been tied up, supposedly disarmed but apparently that wasn't the case. He'd snuck into camp to steal sensitive documents, and although he'd been quickly caught, there were still a few missing. Naturally, the army wanted them back, and they wanted all the information they could glean out of the man. It wasn't a mission for a nobody, but it wasn't a mission for Captain America either. Because Steve wouldn't approve of something like this. Steve wasn't an 'ends justifies the means' kind of guy. Which was okay, because Bucky could be that for him. He could be whatever Steve needed. Whatever it took to keep Steve's hands clean. Steve was the hero. And like he'd said, this was a war. You did whatever you could to win.
"Now, let's try this again." Bucky said as he brandished the knife and slammed his heel into the man's chest hard enough that he heard a rib crack. Bucky smiled grimly as he twirled the knife in his hand.
And Bucky kind of liked being the bad guy.
A pair of fingers snapped in front of Winter's face, and he instinctively grabbed the wrist before him. He released it as he found Captain America staring at him from across the table. The phone call was over, apparently, and their food had arrived. Winter dimly realized he had heard the waitress say something, but he'd been occupied. All information he'd gotten on James Buchanan Barnes indicated that he was probably much like Steven Rogers, or so he had figured. But the images that had just passed through his mind...
"Bucky." Winter said, and the name was strange on his tongue. The captain had said something, or asked something, but he ignored it. He seemed startled by the name. "Would he torture someone?"
"What?"
"Would James Barnes torture someone?" he repeated, a bit impatiently.
The captain's mouth had fallen slightly open, his eyes wide as he stared at Winter. Why in the Hell couldn't the captain ever respond without theatrics? Was it such a hard question? "Why would you ask that?"
"Answer the question." Winter hissed, he had no patience for trying to understand the captain's idiosyncracies now.
"No." The captain answered with a furrowed brow, indignantly. "Bucky...Bucky wasn't...no. He wouldn't."
And for some reason, the answer made Winter's lips curl. He recognized the gesture, although it was foreign on his face. A small smile. "Your Bucky and I have something in common."
The captain didn't look pleased by the remark, and he asked cautiously. "What's that?"
"We do what's necessary." And there was a wealth of meaning in that beyond what the captain would understand.
...
"...Here and now, I'm a weapon. I am the Winter Soldier. Whatever game you're playing, it doesn't change that."
Steve wanted to scream, or to hit something, or to shake Bucky until he woke up and remembered who and what he was. He had known it wouldn't be an easy road to get Bucky back, but he hadn't realized how painful it would be for him as well. Bucky was tearing into him, unintentionally, but that's how it felt.
He just stared at Bucky, he searched for a hint of the one he'd seen last night. The one who had clung to him, and asked him not to leave. The one who needed him. But all he saw were cold eyes gazing out of a face that didn't suit them at all.
His phone rang, and it rocked him like a bullet. That was right, in addition to the insane scenario he found himself in, he was still in the real world. The caller I.D. came up Black Widow. Natasha changed phone numbers frequently, but Tony had given her a device that let her scramble her number to appear the same when she called him, and made him able to call her back on an otherwise unlisted number. Or something along those lines. Technology wasn't really his forte. He didn't want to talk to her in front of Bucky, because the conversation would end up involving him and he didn't want to set the other off...but he couldn't just leave him. Bucky picked up on the dilemna quickly.
Steve felt another wave of disappointment though. Bucky wouldn't escape...because it wouldn't benefit him. Not because he cared about Steve, or wanted to regain his memories. "Then...I'll be right back." He was still cautious, and even as he made his way to the door, he kept an eye on Bucky who just kept watching him with that blank, unnerving stare.
Steve called back, and Natasha answered on the second ring.
"How is he doing?" Well, apparently she knew about Bucky already. He wasn't really surprised, nor was the lack of greetings. Business first, then.
"Better than when I found him. Hello, by the way."
"Hi, Steve." she drawled, her wry brand of humor making it's way into her tone before it became more serious again. "What was he like when you found him?"
How did one describe mindless self-abuse, an unhinged mind, violent mood swings, and frequent murder attempts?
"He wasn't all there." Steve supplied.
Natasha's silence on the other end suggested that she was less than impressed with his answer. "And now?"
"He's...slightly there? But, something happened." he didn't wait for a reply as he continued. "He was sedated after he...went a little a crazy. Went in to check on him and somehow...he's, uh, about eight years old."
More silence, and then. "He thinks he's eight years old?"
Steve inhaled through his teeth. "No...he's...really eight years old. Tony and Bruce looked him over, but they can't figure it out. But he's physically regressed...and he'd had serious brain damage as...the Winter Soldier. Now his head's fixed, apparently. But how or why, or how long...no idea."
Natasha processed that. "Loki?"
He was the first suspect on everyone's list it seemed, but not without reason. "No, according to Tony, he's in an Asgardian prison."
"...I have to finish something up here...but I should be in your neck of the woods tomorrow night."
"You're coming here?" Steve was surprised.
"That is what I just said, I believe." she drawled.
Steve snorted lightly. Natasha could be infuriating and wonderful all in the same instance. "Missing your favorite 'fossil'?"
"Something like that." Steve could hear the smile in her voice. It became something like concern when she next spoke. "Be careful, Steve...I know he's important to you...but...whatever you think it's like for him, whatever you think he went through...it's worse. Trust me."
Her words were blunt, and little comfort, but if she was saying it then it was probably true. It was a warning, not unlike Tony's. "I'll do my best." he said dutifully.
"Tomorrow then." And the phone clicked off.
Steve stared down at it a moment as her words echoed in his ears, and when he returned to the table he found Bucky in a bit of a trance. Another flashback, then? He snapped his fingers in front of his face when Bucky didn't seem to come out of it, and the other grabbed his wrist. What he said next stunned him. What he asked mildly horrified him.
He'd had a flashback, and suddenly he was asking if Bucky would torture someone? And then he smiled, just a little one, and it made Steve's stomach turn. There was nothing kind or reassuring in the smile, it was a little cruel if anything, and still more unsuited for the child's face Bucky was currently wearing.
"We do what's necessary." Bucky said, and Steve felt a chill down his spine. He knew what the Winter Soldier's necessary tended to imply, and that he would feel he and Bucky shared that in common...it was more than he could handle dwelling on at the moment.
Steve spared himself a response by eating a french fry and then motioning to Bucky's plate. "Your pancakes are getting cold. And that cup there is syrup, you pour it on them." When Bucky's little smile become a frown, he smiled encouragingly, and he knew it didn't reach his eyes. "Give 'em a try. Every body likes pancakes."
"I'm not 'every body'." Bucky replied simply, and Steve had the strangest sense that he was...annoyed by Steve's lack of response to what he'd said. But even so, Bucky picked up the syrup and after a long moment, poured a little drizzle on. He eyed his fork like it might attempt to bite him, and eventually took a bite.
Steve lifted his brows questioningly, startled when Bucky suddenly spit his bite back out and shoved the plate away. "It's poisoned." he hissed, and his eyes were set in a glare.
"What? Poison? Bucky-ah-...there's no way."
Bucky started to rise and his gaze was fixed on the kitchen. Steve realized this was about to escalate to a place he definitely did not want it to go. "Sit down!" he said quickly. "It's fine, I'll prove it." he jabbed his own fork into the pancakes and took a bite. Bucky's eyes widened in the first alarm he'd yet seen in them.
"Idiot!" Bucky leaned across the table to try to snatch his fork, but Steve pulled out of his reach.
Steve chewed slowly, because despite his confidence that it wasn't poisoned, well...just in case. But it tasted fine...great, actually, if a little sweet. Maybe they made their own syrup-...it dawned on him. "It's not poison." he said firmly.
"I could taste it." Bucky snapped.
Steve shook his head. Now that he thought on it, sweet things were used to cover over poison anyway, but he felt that wasn't actually the problem. "It's sugar. It's sweet. That's what you taste. You just aren't used to sweet things."
Bucky's brow furrowed just slightly as he frowned. "Sweet." he repeated the word as if to divine it's meaning. "It's supposed to taste like that?" Steve nodded, and Bucky slowly sat back in his seat, although he didn't seem to take Steve at his word.
"Ugh, that's disgusting, Buck. You're gonna hurl."
"D'n'kn'kit'til'yu'tryit." Bucky said, [don't knock it till you try it] through a mouthful of food. Bucky had made a little bonus, and he'd decided to treat he and Steve to breakfast at a corner diner. Bucky's pancakes had been drowned in syrup. And then chocolate sauce. And then whipped cream. And finally a couple of strawberries.
"You're insane." Steve said firmly as he ate his own significantly less murdered pancakes.
Bucky grinned and got a big gooey bite on his fork as he held it out to Steve. "Say, ahh~"
"I'm not eating that."
"C'moooon." Bucky urged, and Steve closed his mouth tightly. "For me, Stevie?" Bucky gave his best puppy dog eyes, and Steve mock-scowled before he huffed and gave in.
He coughed and scrunched his nose. It wasn't bad, per se, but... "What are those pancakes doing in my glob of sugar?"
Bucky rolled his eyes and lifted a brow at Steve, before the pair dissolved into laughter.
"...It's missing something." Bucky muttered, and Steve's brow furrowed slightly. "Something else goes on it."
Steve recalled that Bucky had a fondness for overly drenched pancake. He hadn't thought that would be of interest to him as he was now though. He'd guessed wrongly. Steve caught the waitress' attention and ordered chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and strawberries. In the meanwhile, Bucky had snatched one of the honey packets from the table and poured it over his pancakes with an almost curious expression.
When the other toppings arrived, Bucky said not a word as he promptly turned his plate of pancakes into a pile of liquid sugar and fruit. It was a horrifying sight, but Bucky seemed oddly pleased and he stared at the plate for a long moment, as if satisfied that he'd accomplished...that.
Steve had been tempted to stop him, because if he thought a little syrup was poison, there was no way he'd like what he was creating. But it was one of the very few things Bucky had taken an interest in, and he wasn't going to complain. "That's...quite the creation you've got there." he finally said.
Bucky's lips twitched just slightly, and Steve wondered if he'd just seen the brush of a smile. Is he that happy about pancakes? There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to Bucky's recovery. One minute he was the psychotic Winter Soldier, the next, he was...Bucky? A kid? A stranger?
Steve lost his train of thought as Bucky dug into his pancakes suddenly like they were going out of style. When he finished, Bucky stared at his plate silently. "...Do you want me order more?"
Bucky's eyes flicked up towards him, narrowed slightly.
Ah, that's right. 'Want' is a taboo word. "Are you still hungry?"
"I was never hungry." Bucky replied, as if he hadn't just scarfed down a full plate of smothered pancakes.
And that actually gave Steve a bit of a flashback. Because the Bucky of many years past had said nearly the same thing, for a reason that was equally heart-breaking in it's own way.
Fourteen year old Steve had done his best not to think about how hungry he was. His mother's check had been less than usual, and a couple of unexpected bills had come up. They had stretched the meager food they had thin, and Steve didn't want to take from his mother. So he pretended that he'd eaten more than he had. A fact that didn't go unnoticed by fifteen-year old Bucky at school that day.
"Here." Bucky handed him his lunch sack. A sandwich and an apple. "And you better eat it all." he warned.
"I can't take your lunch, Buck. I'm fine." Steve had tried to push it back.
"I'm not hungry. Wasn't gonna eat it anyway." Bucky said, and they both knew he was lying.
"I don't need charity, Bucky." Steve muttered, startled when Bucky whacked his head.
"It ain't charity, you punk. I want ya to have it. Now eat the damned food before I shove it down your throat." Bucky growled.
Steve blinked and accepted it, and despite himself, gave in to the gnawing hunger and scarfed it down. He had finished the sandwich and was halfway through the apple when he heard Bucky's stomach growl loudly, and felt guilt like a stone in his stomach. "Bucky-"
"Let's say Friday we go to the lake. Sound good to you?" Bucky interrupted as if Steve hadn't spoken.
Steve knew Bucky wasn't going to admit it, or let Steve thank him properly. He wouldn't ask for accolades for going hungry so that Steve wouldn't. And that was just another reason Bucky was a better best friend than he'd ever known could exist. Steve smiled through his feelings as he inclined his head. "Whatever you want, Buck." And Bucky's warm, broad grin was yet another undeserved reward.
"I've heard that line before." Steve murmured, and Bucky's brow furrowed slightly. "You...Bucky would give me his food sometimes. A lot more times than he should have, actually. He'd let himself go hungry if it meant I wouldn't. And he...if he thought it was a pain...he never showed it. He'd just grin at me, like it was the most natural thing in the world." Steve chuckled, a mixture of fond nostalgia and bitter longing. He missed that Bucky, so bad it hurt. Bucky with his quick-grin, and stupid jokes, and jerk attitude. Bucky with his gruff kindness, and his gentleness in taking care of Steve, and the soft-heart that only Steve ever got to see.
"Why would he do that?" Bucky asked, a slight frown on his lips.
"...Because he was a hero." Steve said sincerely.
Bucky tensed, and there was a raw look on Bucky's face all of the sudden, something almost vulnerable, perhaps pained. "You really mean that?" And it didn't sound like the Winter Soldier, it sounded like Bucky.
Steve locked gazes with Bucky. "With all my heart." he said softly, and he watched Bucky's fingers clench on the table as he grimaced.
"He thought that about you too...Bucky did...he...he was..." Bucky's eyes closed a moment as his expression scrunched and he searched for the words, words he didn't quite understand. "He was...proud of you. I remember that a little. I think." And he didn't want to, he didn't understand why his heart was suddenly in so much pain, but without really hurting. It just...there was too much...too much...feeling.
Steve swallowed hard. "I was proud of him too." he said, voice gone hoarse as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of Bucky's admission. "Still am."
That seemed to confuse him. "But he's dead."
Steve inhaled sharply as he thought of an answer. "If you love someone, you always...carry a little of them in here." he tapped his chest above his heart. "Even if they're gone...you carry them with you. I know that probably doesn't make sense to you right now, but...believe me. He's still here." And in more ways than a spiritual sense, he hoped.
"Love." he echoed, as he recalled Steve's earlier definition as 'like' and 'loyalty'. "You...love...him?" He said the words slowly, as if they were too impossible to even speak.
Steve smiled sadly, but fondly as well. "Like a brother. Always have. He was a jerk, but...he's family."
Christmas morning, the year Steve's mother had died and Bucky had taken it upon himself to bring Christmas into Steve's apartment, he received several presents. His favorite was the brown-leather sketchbook. Bucky had bought the paper, but made the rest of it himself. He'd even etched Steve's name on the front near the bottom. Bucky always did have a knack for that kind of thing. The fact that Bucky made it-made it worth more than anything else.
Steve wasn't sure what he could say to convey his gratitude properly. He settled for semi-tackling Bucky as he gave him a tight hug. Steve had actually caught him off guard, and Bucky jumped slightly before his arms enveloped Steve's small body and held him tight. He fended off the December chill better than any blanket could. "Thanks, Buck." he whispered. "Merry Christmas."
Bucky's expression was soft in a way that no one else would get to see. He reserved it for Steve. Bucky held the smaller boy tightly as he let his lips brush against Steve's head a moment. His mother was gone, but he wouldn't let Steve brood. "Nothin' to thank me for. We're family." he murmured, because he was determined to make sure that Steve remembered that. He wanted Steve to rely on him, he didn't want him to think he had to go it alone. "Merry Christmas, Stevie."
Winter felt his breath catch in his chest, and he found Steve-no-the captain staring at him with wide eyes. "What now?" he snapped, but he found he couldn't put any annoyance behind it.
The captain hesitated, and then wiped his cheek with his hand in an expectant way that suggested Winter should do the same.
Winter frowned and wiped at his cheek, startled when his hand came back wet. He rubbed at both cheeks then, and his eyes, and yet again there were thin lines of water on his hands. Water from his eyes. Tears. He knew of tears and crying via his litany of victims. But he had never experienced them for himself to his knowledge. Why was he now? "Why are my eyes leaking?" he demanded of Steve. Because he refused to call them tears, or say that he had cried. This was clearly some mistake. Or proof that he was truly defective.
But Steve just smiled. "Because you're human. It's what we do."
"It's not what I do."
"It's what Bucky would do."
Steve expected a denial. A fit of rage. A glare. Smashed plates. But instead, Bucky just stared at him with those too-old, too-cold eyes.
"...But I'm not Bucky."
"And that's okay." Steve said softly as he reached a hand across the table slowly, and gently set his hand on Bucky's. The other stiffened, but even when Steve's fingers closed around the hand, he didn't move. "You're still my friend. That's what matters. I'll take you however I can get you."
Bucky's hand clenched beneath Steve's before it turned upwards in his grasp to clasp his hand back. He stared at their hands a moment, as if trying to decipher the gesture. And then he met Steve's gaze. "The Winter Soldier's mission is to kill you." he said simply, and Steve sighed, but Bucky went on. "Bucky's mission is to protect you."
Steve's eyes widened slightly at those words, and suddenly Bucky's behavior from before made sense. "...Which mission...do you want to follow?"
Winter's gaze flitted to the table again, where their hands were clasped, and his small grip tightened. "...You're all I have." His only mission. The only person who had ever tried to not hurt him...to not...control him. If he killed him, maybe the pain in his chest would go away. Maybe he'd stop thinking about unnecessary things. But if he protected him...
"You'll always have me."
The waitress chose that moment to return, and she fixed them with an odd look that gave Steve a funny feeling she'd really misunderstood the situation. He didn't want to let go of Bucky's hand, but he didn't want the cops called either. Steve gave Bucky's hand a tight squeeze before he pulled it away and paid his tab. He had made a connection, he was sure of it, he had struck the same chord he'd hit the night before and he wanted to strike while the iron was hot. Steve wanted to turn the ember into a flame that wouldn't just burn out.
"This isn't payback, is it?"
"Now why would I do that?"
The words echoed in Steve's head suddenly, unbidden, and an idea struck him. "Come on, pal, we're leaving. There's some place I wanna take you."
Bucky frowned slightly, years of instincts honed to be suspicious kicking in. "A place?" And Steve grinned.
"We're going to Coney Island."
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Frrrrriiiick. It's 1:00am...I need to be up at 5:50am for a 12 1/2 hour shift...I haven't slept much the other nights either. XD...But it's so addictive. ;-; This chapter took a bit, Bucky didn't want to cooperate and it made Steve antsy. And I think I fell half-asleep some five or so times near the second half of this. Hopefully it's all coherent. At some point I snapped back to reality and the floodgates of fluff and brotherly bonding poured out of me. The characters went and did what they wanted again. Since this chapter was supposed to have the whole Coney Island bit and an intro to some of the action. Ah well. We've got feels. And breakthroughs. Some Widow. Tony and Bruce actually got some air-time, with more to come. [I really...like Tony and Bruce, whether as lovers or besties. They're just suited. XD] Thanks for all the support, people! You keep me writing! [Well past my self-imposed bedtime. XD] Reviews are like verbal hugs...Enjoy!~Witchy~