Chapter 3
Breaking in unnoticed is easy, I'm used to it. The lights are off but I can manage just fine. There's no one in the living area, so I walk silently to the bedroom. The door is open, and I can see him fully clothed, laying on the bed. He's here. He's alive.
The light from his window illuminates the room enough for me to see him properly. He looks fine, and I can breathe a little bit more easily. His face is back to normal, not a trace of my attack in it. I didn't kill him. I didn't hurt him beyond healing, and I thank God for that. If he had to answer only one of my prayers, I'm glad he picked this one over all the others. I feel like I'm going to cry because of the feeling of relief that goes through my veins. It's a little overwhelming. Or maybe it's because seeing him like this after so long brings back too many memories.
I know I have to leave. I should. But he moves in his sleep and I freeze completely. I can tell he knows I'm here as soon as his brain jumps back into consciousness and his breathing rhythm changes. He moves as quickly as I remember to adopt a defensive position. His eyes meet mine, and I feel like a deer caught by a truck's headlights.
A long moment passes in silence, and I feel like I'm pushing my luck. What the hell am I doing here? I feel the panic climbing up my throat when I see the button on his nightstand. I know it's meant to call for help, and I turn to the door. I need to get out.
"Wait", he says quickly, and I stop. "Please don't leave". I turn to him again, breathing heavily. My hands are trembling. My whole fucking body's trembling. His eyes are cautious. He's probably terrified of me. "I'm not gonna hurt you", I say quietly. There's a promise in those words, but I don't know if he can hear it. I put my hands in the air, showing him my palms, letting him know that I don't have any weapons.
He's breathing just as heavily as I am, because he knows I shouldn't be here just as well as I do. "I'll just leave, don't worry". He frowns, but his posture relaxes a bit, pretty much immediately, his shoulders are set differently now. His eyes look warmer.
"Buck?" my name in his lips stops the shivers. It makes me smile and want to cry at the same time. I can't remember the last time I smiled.
"Hey, punk" the words fly out of my lips without me being able to stop them, but he seems to welcome it. I put my hands in my pockets, trying to let him know that I didn't come here to be a threat. My heart is pounding in my chest and I can't do anything to calm myself down. He turns on the light and I flinch a little. I feel safer in the darkness.
"Is it really you?" he asks, squinting his eyes a bit. I wonder about that myself too. Am I? God, I wish I was.
I decide to be honest with him. There was a time when I could tell him anything. Absolutely anything, and he would've understood. I can't lie to him. He needs to know. "I don't know. Not completely", I whisper. "Not exactly. I can still feel it inside me, Stevie. Their coding, their programming". The confession lets me breathe a bit easier, but he says nothing, I don't give him enough time.
"But I'm here", I add immediately. He needs to know that too. "I'm trying" I say, as if it was a bigger confession than the ones I said before.
"Do you remember me?" His words are quiet and I swallow nervously before nodding. "Bits and pieces here and there" I say and I can't tell if that makes him calm or sad.
"I remember riding our bikes around the neighborhood. Delivering meat for mister…" my brain doesn't give me a name, so I go silent, looking down at the floor. "Sullivan" he provides, and my head snaps back up. He offers a small encouraging smile, so I continue. "I remember him giving us quarters for our services, and telling me that I would take his place when I'd get older"
"I remember you sleeping in my room and us talking till my mom would open the door and tell us to turn off the lights" I can't help but smile "I remember that we would always keep talking after that anyway. In the dark"
Steve's eyes are filled with tears, and his hand is still nowhere near the button in his nightstand. Silence takes over for a few seconds and he gets up slowly.
"It's nice to see you, Buck" it's hard not to cry at his tone, but I manage.
"Is nice to see you too, Stevie". I say right back. He probably has no idea just how much truth is in that statement. But he comes closer, and I step back instinctively, bumping into the dresser.
"Please, don't", I say, and I reckon my voice cracks. I can tell it hurts him, so I continue. "I think I'm in control, but I don't want to put it to the test, OK?" I keep my voice low so it can't break, "Please, I don't want to hurt you".
He's about to reply, but then he thinks twice, closes his mouth firmly and nods, stepping back and sitting on the edge of the bed.
"You can have a seat too if you want" he gestures to a chair in the corner and I thank him and take it. It feels weird, like he's examining me, and I realize that I haven't been this nervous in a long long time. The silence builds up until he breaks it.
"Why did you pull me from the river?" The question is quiet, and I can hear the curiosity in his voice. I try to be as honest as I possibly can, but there's not much information I can give him. I don't have much information at all.
"I'm not sure". I say, and then I sigh. He looks at me until I continue, because he knows that's not the whole truth. Of course he knows. "I think I wanted to remember. I think a part of me knew you were important. I just didn't realize how much until later, until I remembered you" I offer him a small smile, hoping he understands.
"And why are you here now?" he adds. I try to talk but I stutter a bit. Great start, dumbass. I sigh and try to remember to think before I speak.
"I've been watching the hospital from time to time", I say. "I knew you were in there but when I came back today the guards were gone and there were no signs of you", there's a knot in my throat, just from remembering the fear I felt during the afternoon. "I figured either they moved you or you- I mean, it wasn't anything sure, but- I needed to see if you were- still-" I realize I'm babbling, and I stop abruptly, letting the air escape from my lungs. I take a moment to put my mind in check, to choose my words carefully, and then I add: "I just wanted to make sure that you were alright", that's a little more to the point.
He looks at me for a while. "I'm OK" he answers, and then smiles softly. "You should see the other guy". I shake my head. That's Steve, for sure. Joking to try and make me feel better.
"How about you?" he asks, and I shrug. "Your arm's doing fine?" I look down at my mechanic hand, but he clarifies "the one I broke".
"Oh. Just dislocated. It healed pretty quickly". I can feel his gaze in my face, even as I look down at his feet. When I look at him again he nods slowly and smiles again.
"Can I ask you something too?" my words are quieter than I intended them to be, but he still nods again. "Who did I kill when I was here?" I dare to look at him, prepared for the sorrow that comes with remembering a lost loved one, but his brow is furrowed, and I can only see confusion in his eyes. "I remember being here, maybe a couple weeks ago. I know I killed someone through a window… maybe through a wall. I know you chased me, and that I reported the mission as successful… but I can't place their face or name" I explain this as I feel the atmosphere of the room turning more and more unsettling. Steve falls silent, with his eyes fixed on the floor, but I need to know. "Were they important to you?" I whisper, because that's all I really need to know, and he finally looks at me again. He seems to have the weight of the world settled in his shoulders.
"They didn't die because of you", he says slowly and quietly, and I close my eyes so that he won't see the tears quickly filling them. He's never been a good liar. That inability to lie used to be one of the things I liked most about him, but now I wish I could believe his words. The truth behind them is so clear to me. The guilt crumbles and falls over me, swallowing me whole.
"I'm so sorry, Stevie" I let out under my breath, willing my voice not to break and failing miserably. I hide my face in my hands for a second. This whole thing is too much for me.
"Hey… don't" I hear him standing and taking a step towards me, so I flinch away in the chair, my heartbeat immediately picking up. He can't come near me. He can't get hurt.
After a few seconds I risk a look at him and it relaxes me a bit to see that he's standing still. He crouches in his place, so that we're eye to eye, and he looks at me until I return his gaze. There's a sad smile in his lips, but I know it's sincere. "Listen to me, ok?" I close my eyes. I don't deserve the soft tone he's using to talk to me. "Bucky, look at me", I don't know if it feels like an order or a plea, but I do, and he continues. "I can't talk about that. But you don't have to worry about it, OK?" I search for another hint that he's lying, but I can't find it. "I'm OK" he assures me, and I nod after a moment. He seems to be telling the truth.
"That's all I wanted to know", I whisper, and I make an effort to clean my face with my hands before getting up. He stands up too and looks at me for a second. I give him a smile, unsure of how much of it is sincere, and I take a step back when my first instinct is to hug him goodbye.
It's so hard to try and fuse the dynamic we used to have with everything I've become.
"It was great to see you again" I say instead and turn towards the door again.
"Buck" he lets out, and I stop in my tracks. "Stay with me", it's nothing but a murmur but I hear it loud and clear. I turn back to look at him. "Don't leave. Please" he adds, and I want to cry again. I could make an excuse, tell him that it's not safe, or that they'll be looking for me. But I don't.
"I don't trust myself enough to do that, Stevie, to get too close" the confession comes out shaky, but It's nothing but the truth. "I don't give a damn about that. I trust you, man. I know you". That statement breaks my heart a little. I wish I was the same person that he used to know. I wish that so much.
"I know you think you do, and I really appreciate it. But you really don't", I shake my head. My voice is so bitter I can barely recognize it myself, but he has to know. "The things I've done, the people I've killed. You wouldn't even be talking to me if you knew, Stevie".
His eyes turn serious, and I prepare myself for his rejection, for him finally realizing I'm too far gone. He walks to the nightstand and I repress the urge to run. If he wants to press that button, if he really thinks he needs to call for help, then he can. And he probably should. So I close my eyes and stand still, with a big knot in my throat… but by the sound of it he doesn't go for the button, or for the shield besides his bed. He just opens the nightstand's drawer. I open my eyes and look at him as he takes out a folder and walks back to me.
"I think I might know more than you, pal", he says as he hands it to me.