Thank you for your reviews! I love hearing from you; it makes me smile. This chapter is a little different. It has a few time switches. You get a glimpse of Present Bucky instead of Steve, Wanda, Vision, and Sam. Also, I did some research and couldn't find much information on Bucky's family in this universe. I did see he was oldest of four kids and worked that into the story.
Enjoy! Feel free to drop me a line!
Chapter Four
The tears had stopped running down his cheeks, but Bucky found himself too tired to go back into the bedroom and see how Steve was doing. Sarah's voice murmured softly. It took him a moment to realize that she was singing to him. He couldn't catch the words, but it was such a tender moment he felt bad for listening. His mom was usually too busy with the other kids to sing him to sleep and he hadn't needed it since he was little. His two sisters liked singing songs by themselves. Bucky rested his head back on his knees.
"He's asleep." Sarah stepped into the kitchen and washed her hands. When she finished, she sat down next to Bucky on the couch. "Are you alright?" She touched his forehead, getting his attention. "Do you feel sick?"
Her touch was comforting, but he didn't have a fever. That wasn't what was bothering him. The only sickness he felt was that he couldn't make Steve better. "No, I'm fine." Bucky put his head up and forced a firm look on his face.
"Bucky." Sarah took her hand away. "You don't have to be fine. It's okay to be scared."
He shook his head. "What's wrong with him?"
Sarah sighed. "I'm fairly certain that it's rheumatic fever. Due to his poor immune system and the fact that he caught strep throat recently, it fits his symptoms."
"Can you help him?" He quickly wiped away the tear on his cheek.
"I'll do everything I can." Sarah wiped away her own tears. "Why don't you head home and get some sleep? Your parents are probably worried about you."
"I told them that I was gonna be with Steve. I wanna stay." Bucky wasn't going to leave now. He had to make sure that Steve didn't get worse! He couldn't leave him.
Sarah touched his shoulder. "I'm sure you did. But you should go home and get some sleep. I don't want your parents to worry about you."
"They won't."
She hung her head a little. "Okay, but you have to call them. Mrs. Temple downstairs has a phone and she –"
"I know," Bucky interrupted. "That's how I called you earlier. I'll see if she'll let me use the phone again."
Sarah went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, taking out a few oranges and sticking them in a bag. Bucky's forehead wrinkled as he watched her. What? She came back and handed him the bag.
"She loves oranges and bribes. It should convince her to let you use the phone again."
Bucky nodded before hurrying outside and down the stairs. He knocked twice on the door, tapping his feet as he waited. Mrs. Temple opened the door a crack. Bucky lifted the bag and showed it to her. Lightening flashed behind him, startling him a little bit.
"You need to use the phone again." She grinned and took the bag. "Alright, come on."
Bucky hurried around her to the phone.
"How's the little guy doing?" Mrs. Temple put the oranges in her fridge, glancing back at him.
He shook his head. The operator connected him to his house. There were a few minutes before he heard a voice come on the phone. Bucky rolled his eyes at the high pitched female voice that greeted him.
"Laura, I need to talk to Mom." It was his second youngest sister. She shouldn't be answering the phone. "Please, just get Mom."
"You missed dinner. Momma made cookies with chocolate." Her voice muffled through the phone and he imagined her chewing on the end of her braid like normal. To be fair, she was only six. Hopefully she'd grow out of it soon. "I saved you a cookie."
"That's great, but I need to talk to Mom. Can you get the phone to her?" Bucky tapped his fingers impatiently on his leg. "Please." He normally didn't use his manners with her, so she'd get he was serious about talking to their mom.
"Momma and Daddy said you were with Stevie." Her voice softened. "Is he sick?"
Mom's voice interrupted them in the background. "Laura, who are you talking to?"
Good, she'd make Laura give the phone to her. Bucky waited as he heard his mom tell his sister to brush her teeth before bed and quickly.
"Mom," he said.
"James, what's wrong? I thought you were going to be home for dinner."
Bucky fought to keep the emotion out his voice. Now that he was away from Steve for a little bit, the exhaustion was sinking in. He ran a hand over his face. "He's really sick, Mom."
Laura shushed the rest of the family in the background. "Oh sweetie, I'm sorry. Do you want to stay longer with him?"
"Only if it's okay –"
"I know how much Steve means to you. You can stay as long as you need. Just make sure you eat something." She sighed. "I wish there was something I could do to help Steve and Sarah."
Bucky nodded. "There's actually one thing I need help with."
Sweat ran down his brow. Everything spun as he turned his head a little. The sounds of gun fire and yelling came down the hallway. He struggled weakly against the bonds, but it wasn't enough. Whatever drug the guy had given him made him sore and exhausted, like he'd been running a marathon or lifting heavy weights for hours with no break. It kept him down. The drugs made his hands shake too. He flexed his left hand, feeling the bruises and scrapes pull. He'd got a few good hits in when they moved him to another room to do more testing.
The yelling increased. He thought he heard someone yell in German to retreat.
He let his eyes fall closed and took a shaky breath. His lungs burned. At least two ribs were cracked, if not broken.
Someone entered the room. He heard the boots on the floor as they moved in his direction.
He didn't even realize that he'd been talking the whole time. His serial number, he'd been saying the words over and over.
"Bucky?"
His eyes feel like they were weighed down, but they snapped open. He knew that voice. Everything blurred and he blinked to clear his eyes. But it couldn't be him. He was supposed to be home safe in Brooklyn. There was sickness here. Steve couldn't handle it.
"Oh my god."
The person moved and suddenly he felt the restraints being ripped from the table. One of the pieces of belt clinked on the floor. Bucky looked at the muscular figure and frowned. It couldn't be.
"It's me. It's Steve."
He knew that face. "Steve." Bucky grabbed his shoulder, trying to have something solid. He couldn't let this be a hallucination. Despite his reservations, Bucky smiled.
Steve hauled him to a sitting position. Bucky quickly threw his legs over and stood, almost falling when his legs couldn't take the weight. His best friend steadied him.
Steve touched the side of his face. "I thought you were dead." The emotion was raw in his voice.
It must've been the drugs. Bucky looked him up and down, realizing first that he had to look up to him. The kid's arms muscles were huge and… he was big. "I thought you were smaller."
There was a brief pause as Steve focused on something. Bucky felt his stomach roll. He winced and tried to remain upright. Steve said something, but he didn't catch it. Each footstep made him feel a little stronger. Most of his weight rested on Steve. Bucky stumbled, but Steve kept moving. What the hell happened to him?
"I joined the army."
It took Bucky a moment to realize he'd said his question out loud. Bucky tried to walk himself, pushing Steve's arm away. He swayed, but didn't fall. "Did it hurt?"
"A little."
"Is it permanent?" The injection spotted itched as Bucky tried to cover it with his sleeve. He didn't want Steve to think he was too weak. The bastard scientist had told him that when he took Bucky away from the others. He'd been hurt and then… he was sick, too weak to work. Zola said he was perfect for the experiment.
"So far."
What the hell did that German scientist Zola do to him?
…..
Bucky gasped as he sat up in bed. He immediately stumbled into the small bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. It was just another memory. Another memory from the life he'd had, but couldn't remember. Steve. It was the same man who he'd dreamed about a few weeks before when he'd been compelled to buy that green dinosaur. He'd given it to the kid. Steve Rogers. He was the same man from the museum. Captain America.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror as the water droplets rolled down the smooth surface. His hair hung in front of his eyes. The eyes of a killer. That's all he was. Bucky grabbed the towel and dried his face before throwing it on the floor.
He dropped back onto his mattress. The street noises were loud outside, people yelling in Croatian about lower prices at their stand while car horns went off and in the distance, sirens wailed. The sounds probably triggered his nightmare. Every night presented a different nightmare, whether the same broken memories or new fragments he couldn't make sense of.
"Bucky? Oh my god." Steve's words and the pain in his voice when he found him strapped to the table.
Why did he care so much about this man who he barely remembered?
"I thought you were dead."
There was no way he could go back to sleep. He stood up and headed to his clean laundry basket. Bucky pulled out a few things before finding his running shorts. Maybe a run would clear his head. After changing into his running clothes, he pulled out his sweatshirt to cover his arm. The black glove went on last. He wasn't the man in the dreams. He wasn't the same Bucky.
Once Bucky finished talking to his mom, he hung up the phone. Mrs. Temple sat at the kitchen table in the dim light. She studied him. After a moment, she pointed to the seat across from him. Bucky fell into the chair, not realizing that his legs had been shaking. He needed to get back upstairs to Steve. Yet, he needed another minute before he stepped back into the cold room with his best friend who was deathly ill and in pain.
"What?" Bucky finally spoke.
She rested her chin on one hand. "Did you know I had a daughter?"
"Considering, I've only seen you a few times, no. I didn't know."
"Her name was Rosalie. She was… beautiful and kind." Mrs. Temple stood up and poured the warm water from her teapot. "But Rosalie was much like your friend. From the time of her birth, she was always sick and she bruised easily. I tried everything I could to keep her healthy, but it was never enough. Rosalie died of pneumonia at the age of nine. She had so much life to live, but in this world, she didn't have a chance. It was the hardest thing and worst thing in my life. I'm so sorry about Steve."
"You're wrong." Bucky stood up quickly, knocking over the chair. "Just because your daughter died, doesn't mean that Steve won't survive. He's a fighter. I'm sorry she died, but I'm NOT gonna lose him."
He ran from the apartment, slamming her door behind him. Bucky sat on the top stair and covered his face as he cried. The rain continued to pour, soaking his clothing as he sat there. Rosalie. She'd just been another poor kid with this world unable to help her. He wouldn't let that happen. The rain chilled him to the bone, long after the tears had stopped. Bucky picked himself up and slowly opened the door to the Roger's apartment. Sarah wasn't in the living room anymore. He wondered how long he'd been outside. He wiped the rain from his forehead as he stepped into the bedroom.
Soft light illuminated Sarah's face. Steve trembled beneath the blankets as she tried to calm him. His eyes were parted and he glanced over at Bucky as he came into view.
"Bucky."
Bucky moved to his side as Sarah gave them a little space. Steve's lips were beginning to chap as his body burned him from the inside with the relentless fever. Hopefully his fever would break soon. Sarah wrapped a dry blanket around Bucky and whispered something about making some hot chocolate before going into the kitchen to leave them alone. Bucky knelt beside Steve.
"You… left." Steve's words made his heart painfully contract.
Steve coughed and Bucky had a flash of him gasping to breath. He took Steve's hand. "I'm sorry. I'm not gonna leave you again. I'm always gonna be here for you."
It looked like Steve was going to say something else, but he let out the short breath he was holding. Steve grinned. "Okay."