Bucky emerged late the next morning. Breakfast was already prepared and on the table by the time he slumped into the kitchen. His over-long hair was tousled, sticking up at every angle, his dark eyes half-closed, his clothing rumpled. Sleep lines ran up and down his arm and the left side of his face.
"Good Morning," Steve said, feeling almost cheery. He received a grunt in return from Bucky as the former assassin sunk into his chair. "Sleep okay?" He asked, sitting down across from him. Bucky simply hummed, nodding his head. To be honest, it was the best night sleep Bucky had had in his memory; the lack of cuffs had eased his stress, making way for the first night free of nightmares in what seemed like forever. Steve smiled faintly, eating his breakfast quietly as he waited for Bucky to come to more.
"What?" Bucky asked quietly, the corner of his lip tugging up ever so slightly. Steve looked up, surprised.
"Sorry?" He asked, grinning.
"You've been smirking all morning. What is it?" He asked, and Steve ducked his head, his smile widening.
"Nothing," Steve said unconvincingly, and then caved slightly. "I've got a little something showing up this morning."
Bucky sighed, like he couldn't believe he had to ask again "What?" He pressed in an agitated tone. Steve glanced at his watch, and then to the door as he heard the crunching of tires in the driveway. He flashed Bucky a quick smile and stood up, walking to the door just as he heard a swift knocking against the wood.
"Coming!" He called, stepping into the mudroom and opening the door. A tall dark-skinned man stood in the door way. He had short natural hair and a wide easy smile full of very white teeth. "Sam," Steve said affectionately, stepping forward to give his comrade a tight hug. Sam Wilson laughed, clapping Steve on the back and pulling away.
"Hey Cap, How's life in the mountains?" He asked, turning briefly to look over his shoulder at the thick pines that surrounded the yard, falling away as far as the eye could see. Steve pursed his lips slightly, nodding his head.
"Not bad," He said, still beaming. "You want to come in for a minute?" Steve asked, stepping back ad gesturing welcomingly towards the kitchen.
Sam peered around the doorway, catching a brief glimpse of Bucky who, in the presence of someone other than Steve, regressed back to a cold, closed state. He grimaced slightly, shaking his head reluctantly.
"Best not, the last time I was around your friend in there I remember there was a lot of collateral damage. " He said and Steve nodded understandingly. "But," Sam continued, glancing down to a pet carrier sitting on the stoop by his feet. "I did bring your package."
Steve bent, picking up the carrier, feeling its contents reposition inside. "Thank you Sam, really. There aren't a lot of people that Fury will let up here with us; you've done me a huge favor."
Sam waved it off dismissively. "No problem, Just take care of her." Steve nodded earnestly.
"Yeah, of course and listen, if you ever do want to come up and spend some time-" He started, seeing the look of apprehension on his friends face. "Sam, Sam, He's doing so much better, He just needs to be treated gently, he's made so much progress already." He said, eager to plead Bucky's case and Sam nodded, holding up a hand.
"Hey man," He said, flashing him one of those killer smiles. "I'd trust you on anything; you know that, I just don't know if I'm quite up to that right now." Steve nodded.
"Right, sure." He said, shifting the pet carrier carful under one strong arm. "But just know, my home's always open to you, you're welcome any time." Sam smirked.
"I'll keep that in mind." He joked lightly, "Alright Steve, I'll be in touch," Sam said, clasping the other man's hand warmly before turning to go, the gravel crunching under his feet as he went.
"It gets a little lonely up here with only two people," Steve called after him, earning only a laugh and a wave from his comrade before he stepped into his jeep and drove off.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Steve stepped back into the house, setting the pet carrier down carefully on the floor. He glanced around, excitement stirring in his chest. "Bucky?" He called, grinning to himself. "Bucky come on, where are you?"
The former assassin slipped, ghost-like, into the living room from wherever he'd retreated to, his expression cold, and suspicious. Steve gave him a small, sad smile.
"That was Sam Wilson, you remember him?"
"The Falcon." Bucky replied in a quiet closed tone. Steve nodded.
"He's a good friend of mine, and he won't hurt you." He pressed, seeing the look on Bucky's face. "In fact…I'd like to invite him up sometime…if you're comfortable with that of course." Steve said hurriedly. Bucky had not response to this. He just stood there, looking nervous and skeptical.
"Either way," Steve continued quickly. "I asked Sam to bring this…a little…something to help you." Steve knelt down by the door of the pet carrier, opening it up and pulling out its squirming contents. He held in his arms a dog; not quite a puppy anymore but certainly not full grown yet. She was some sort of Husky mix, with a muddled brown coat and manic blue eyes. One ear stood up, straight and pointed, the other tried, but flopped at the tip.
Bucky eyed the dog uncertainly. He was…surprised, honestly. He hadn't expected to be trusted with the care of something's life, not when he was so conditioned to kill. Steve set the young dog on the ground, where she stumbled slightly and then balanced. Bucky's lips tightened.
"It's got three legs Steve." He said, almost accusingly, looking from the dog's single front leg and then back to Steve. Steve got the feeling that he didn't necessarily appreciate the gesture.
"She needs you." He pointed out quietly, and Bucky set his jaw, not quite sure what to think of being given a dog so much like himself. "I want you to take care of her Bucky. I'll be good for you, trust me." Steve pressed. Bucky gave a resigned sigh, kneeling down in front of the puppy. The husky mutt gave an excited little yap and stumbled clumsily over to him, nosing around at Bucky's knees and then his chest and chin. Bucky just sat there; face stony and impassive as the little dog licked his stubbly chin.
"No." He said shortly, and the dog licked further up his face. "No," He said again, pulling back a bit and the three-legged dog squirmed up further. Like a sniper, the puppy's quick wet tongue snuck between Bucky's lips. The man gave a slight start, yanking back and giving the puppy a sharp roll off of his lap. The young canine gave an abrupt yelp and scrambled gracelessly away from Bucky, darting around the corner. Instantly Bucky's face flashed with guilt at having hurt the little thing. He looked up at Steve, suddenly fearful of being pushed for failing his task. But Steve wasn't even looking at him. He had already headed around the corner, retrieving to three-legged puppy.
"Here we go," He murmured, setting her down again. "Now Bucky, Husky's are very sensitive, they're also huge babies, so you have to be very gentle with her. "
"I hurt her…" Bucky said, still unable to shake the feeling that he should be yelled at or punished for harming the little creature. Steve pursed his lips.
"You rolled her off of your lap and she landed funny Buck. Husky's are over reactors, if something's even a little uncomfortable they're going to wail about it. But I think that will be a good thing, because if you can be gentle with her, you can be gentle with anyone. Now try again okay?" He said with a smile, shooing the now slightly hesitant pup back over to Bucky.
This time, Bucky reached out, slowly, carefully, and touched the young dogs pointed ear. Some dogs look demure, and tragic, others, simply bored; Husky's smiled. The little pup's expression phased into a dopy dog-grin as she tripped clumsily forward again. She did a face-plant in Bucky's lap before squirming onto her back, her manic blue eyes pleading for a belly-rub. Bucky reached down, gently scratching the dog's stomach until her tongue lolled out of her mouth and her eyes grew unfocused and blissful.
"She'll need a name," Steve reminded him gently.
"You haven't given her one?" Bucky murmured, his gaze locked on the dog. Steve shrugged.
"Why would I, She's yours isn't she?" Bucky's hand faltered for a moment as he considered this. In his memory, he never had to care for something; he wondered how different this was going to make things. He thought of how different he felt after being out of a cell; he remembered how different he felt after spending even just a few days in Steve's gentle care.
"Liberty." He said simply, seeing a smile tugging at Steve's lips, of course he would have liked that.
"Liberty." Steve repeated, nodding his head. "Alright then Bucky, Liberty's yours now. I bought dog food, but you'll be responsible for feeding her, making sure she has water, cleaning up after her, and playing with her."
"Playing with her?" Bucky repeated, feeling uncertain. He hadn't played…well, in forever; certainly never in his memory. Steve nodded.
"Play with her." He confirmed. "I can't always be with you to walk her out past the yard, but you can play with her outside. It will help her burn off energy, and she'll be better behaved if she's not a live wire. You've got to exercise her Buck." Bucky nodded slowly in responds to this, watching Liberty closely. She had rolled back over now and was licking the carpet with great enthusiasm.