After refitting the sheet onto his bed and fixing the cover over it, Bucky stepped into the living room, where Steve sat on the couch reading. There was something troubling him. Bucky didn't necessarily want to talk about it, but he felt like Steve would have answers for him. Steve glanced up quickly as Bucky entered the room. His eyes dropped back down to finish the last few words on his page before he stuck his bookmarker between the pages and laid the book aside.
"Was I right?" Steve asked with a smile. Bucky had earlier expressed his lack of faith in the washing machine and dryer. Steve had gone to great lengths to assure him that it definitely worked, and now, wanted to hear Bucky own up to it.
Bucky just nodded absently, sinking down beside him. Liberty curled up by his feet, her one ear flopping lower than the other. Steve glanced over uncertainly after Bucky's silence, seeing immediately that something wasn't quite right.
"Buck?" He asked quietly, concern in his voice. Bucky licked his lips hesitantly.
"Is there something wrong with me Steve?" He asked slowly. Steve blinked, taken aback by the question. To be honest, there was a lot that was wrong with Bucky, there was a lot of hurt that had been inflicted on him, and a lot of damage that hadn't het healed.
"What do you mean Bucky?" He asked quietly, wanting more information before he said possibly the wrong thing. His companion was silent for a long moment, pondering how to put into word what was going through his mind.
"I…remember things…just flashes, but it's like it's actually happening for a few seconds…I can…hear what they're saying I can smell things, I can…I can feel what happened…"
"When you were with Hydra?" Steve asked, taking an educated guess as to the nature of Bucky's flashbacks. Bucky's complexion went a few shades paler, taking on an unhealthy, ghostly pallor. His lips tightened into a thin, blood-red line. He nodded sharply.
"I-" He started and his voice cracked slightly. Bucky swallowed, trying again. "It's not like what I remembered…about you…a few days ago…It was like I had gone back in time and I was happening all over again…it was that vivid, I couldn't-" He stopped mid-sentence, swallowing again. Steve reached over, gripping his forearm.
"It's okay…" He said quietly. "It's okay Bucky, those are called 'flashbulb memories,' and I get them too…" Bucky looked up sharply, looking at Steve with an expression of lost confusion.
"What?" He asked in a miserable tone. Steve nodded sympathetically.
"That's the joys of the battlefield…" He said bitterly, and then forced a sad smile, giving his arm another gentle squeeze. "You and I are two grown men suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Its okay, it happens to a lot of soldiers…I know that doesn't make it better…but sometimes just knowing what it is…" Steve trailed off uncertainly. Bucky didn't respond to this, not for a long time. The blond-haired man felt the need to say something, anything to prove to Bucky that he wasn't alone in this, that Steve knew just what he meant.
"You know," Steve continued, "Tony…he's a comrade…a…uh…friend, I guess, of mine, he's always razzing me about the 4th of July. He goes on about how ironic it is for 'freedom boy' to be born on the fourth, and how it's got to be my favorite day of the year, and that 'the fourth is when my powers is at its peak,' ect.." He said in a vaguely sarcastic tone, and then paused, giving the kind of sad smile that made Bucky's heart ache for him. "But he's wrong; it's actually a very hard day for me… I don't let on but...The sound of the fireworks…the smell of all that gunpowder in the air…it triggers a lot of bad stuff in me Buck…I get flashbulb memories more on the fourth than any other day of the year…" He trailed off uncertainly. He'd never quite shaken feeling guilty about that. The previous year Natasha, dangerous, unpredictable, utterly brilliant Natasha had managed to pull together most of the Avengers team, minus Thor of course, for a 4th of July/Steve Rodger's birthday party event. It had been surprisingly thoughtful of her really. There had been plenty of food, plenty of time to talk and catch up, and of course, fireworks. It was all fine at first, all until a particularly loud sound wave sent Steve's anxiety through the roof. It had seemed as though one minute he was fine, and then next he was seeking the quickest escape route possible from the scene. He spent the rest of the evening locked in the bathroom, lying curled up in the tub, shaking, nauseous, and suffering continuous flashbacks.
He knew where Bucky was coming from. Sometimes the flashbulb memories were triggered by something, sometimes, they came out of nowhere.
Bucky soaked in Steve's words, he was still pale, but looking much better than before. He slowly raised his dark, tormented eye to Steve's, meeting his gaze.
"Do they ever stop?" He asked huskily, looking haunted. Steve's eyes saddened.
"I don't think they ever really go away…" He said reluctantly, "Trust me, I've been trying everything to get rid of mine…" Steve saw the color being to drain from Bucky's face again, seeing his fear at the realization that he may be reliving the horrific scenes for the rest of his life.
"They get better though," He assured him quickly. "They don't stop, not all together, but if you give it time…if you focus on remembering, and getting better, they'll be less frequent, maybe even not as bad…okay?"
Bucky nodded wordlessly for a moment, swallowing back his near panic.
"Okay…" He rasped after a long pause. He met Steve's gaze again, his eyes serious, and earnest. "I want to remember then." He said abruptly. "You remember my life more than I do. I want you to help me remember."
Steve blinked in surprise, a little stunned honestly. He had been trying to help Bucky remember this whole time, but up until this moment Bucky had been mostly working against him. That being said, he had made a lot of progress, who knew how much progress could be made if he was willing to work with him!
"A-Alright…" Steve stammered, nodding his head, still almost in disbelief. "Okay then…uhm…Wh-where do you want to start?" He asked and Bucky took a long moment to think.
"Tell me about where I was born…and then tell me how I met you."