Chapter 8
A shower together turns out to be a lot more awkward than I anticipated. We get into the bathroom just wearing our pants, and as he turns on the water, I remember the showers we used to take back in the army. When we were in the howling commandos, we used to take turns in the showers, two or three people at a time. Except back then I didn't feel subconscious about doing it, I didn't feel this exposed.
The feeling has nothing to do with Steve, he hasn't said or done anything wrong, it's just because of me. He hasn't really seen me like this since back then, at least not so calmly, and I'm not the same man he knew. With the scars, the experiments, the serum and the arm… how could he ignore all that?
"I think that's it" he says, checking the water's temperature while he looks at me, and I do my best to give him a smile. I stop myself just in time before mumbling a sarcastic 'great', and my eyes dart to his body for a quick second. He looks so… perfect. The only thing interrupting the smoothness of his skin are the scars that I gave him. They're already fading, just small traces of a pale pink here and there. I'm not built to get over wounds that quickly, so mine are still red, brown and bright pink.
When I look at his face again, his smile has faded. "You OK?" He asks with a serious note in his voice, and I shrug. He takes my hand purposefully and I realize that it was resting in my chest, covering the scars as much as possible. It must've looked kinda like if I was hugging myself.
"I like your scars, Buck. I like everything about you", he whispers, and pulls me in closer to him. I roll my eyes. What an idiot. The poor fella's always been way too nice for his own good.
"You don't need to say stuff like that", he frowns. "What, compliments?" I was talking about lies to spare my feelings, but I just nod, because I think he might get upset if I actually say it.
"Buck, I'm not lying" he says, as if he can read my mind, and I back away a bit, holding his gaze. He sighs and looks at the ceiling.
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all", he says after a moment, making a face, biting his lip and pushing his eyebrows together. I'm afraid he's referring to what happened earlier, but when he looks back at me, there's a kind expression in his eyes. "Tell you what: we can back up a bit. And we'll just take turns. You go first, and I'll wait for you to get out. Sounds good?" he says, and he's already heading to the door.
I don't really want him to leave, but apparently I'm a big mute asshole, because I don't say anything to stop him. The door clicks behind him and I'm just left alone, feeling like an idiot and wondering why the hell I acted like that. I shake my head and decide to get in the shower and be done with it, so I can go talk to him and apologize… but when I turn on my heels, the image in the mirror catches me off guard. I'm taken aback a little. I've been avoiding even getting a glance of myself when I use the shower, because I was afraid of losing it again. I don't want to zone out and cause any more trouble. But it's more than that. I don't want to hurt myself anymore. I really don't.
I force myself to look at the image in the mirror, but the winter soldier is looking back at me. Not me. I clench my jaw and his expression turns menacing. I'm so… afraid of him. Of what he can do, what I can do. I don't want to be him. I take a deep breath and make an effort to find myself in the image, but the guy looking back seems much older than I remember. Worn out. Wittered.
I sigh and try to be nice. 'Maybe he's been through a lot' I think, and then the reflection makes a face, twisting its mouth to the side. It's my expression. Those are my thoughts floating up to the surface of that hardened face.
That feels like enough for now. I take my eyes off of him and the lingering fear is still there. My recurring nightmare, following me into consciousness: I feel like he's gonna start speaking Russian as soon as I stop looking at him. Like he'll escape from my control and return to HYDRA.
I get in the shower and try to stop thinking about it. I need to get out of here quickly. It only takes a few minutes for me to clean up and get back to the kitchen. When I do, Steve passes me by in the small hallway. I'm only wearing a towel wrapped around my hip and one over my shoulders, but he doesn't look at my body. Although he does give me a smile and a wink, letting me know everything's alright. The guy's a fucking saint.
I get dressed as he showers, and then lie down on his bed and turn the TV on to wait for him. He doesn't seem upset or mad when he comes out and sits besides me, half leaning back on the pillows. "Great. What are we watching?" he says, but I know him better than that. He's trying to act cool so I won't feel guilty.
"I don't know. You had anything in mind?" I say, and he shrugs as he takes the remote I'm offering. He goes on the Netflix thing and starts going through the movie titles. I bite my lip. He's as far away as he can be without falling off the bed.
"I'm really sorry about before" I say quietly. He sighs like he was holding his breath and finally looks at me, shaking his head. "No, man, I should've known it'd be too much. I get it, don't worry about it, OK?" I nod slowly, but he bites his lip like he's trying to pull it clean off. I'm surprised he's not drawing blood.
"Do you regret it?" he whispers. "What happened earlier, I mean. Because I know I got carried away, but you didn't-"
"I don't" I leave out a bit louder, to interrupt his rambling. He leaves out the air he was gonna use to keep saying nonsense. "Of course I don't". How could he even think that? He should be the one running away screaming and trying to forget about it. I smile at him because he doesn't seem to be aware of that obvious fact, and I stretch my arm across the mattress to offer him my hand. He takes it in his and scooches a bit closer, smiling back at me. He has such a beautiful smile.
I kiss his hand because I can't help it, and he looks at me like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have. I don't really care anymore, as long as I'm not running around killing innocent people.
We watch a movie together and I can barely believe that this is what my life is like now. It takes a few days for me to even start to wrap my head around it. I keep thinking they'll wake me up and it'll all turn out to be a dream. That I'll be back being the winter soldier, and they'll scramble my brain again to order me on another mission.
But whenever I start to panic, I hold on to the grounding feeling of knowing who I am. The feeling of Steve holding my hand, the sound of music, and the taste of food. I don't remember having felt this alive before. They can't take that away from me again, I won't let them.
One afternoon Steve comes back from training and finds me doing push-ups in the living room. I only use my real arm, in an effort to level out the strength in both of them. I look at him when he says 'Hi' and smile while I keep going for a bit longer.
"Hey, man. I'll be done in a second". He takes off his jacket as he replies. "Don't let me interrupt you, take all the time you need" he walks over to the bed and sits. He'll watch some TV, so I keep going. I switch to crunches, but it gets really boring after a while.
I get up, grab a couple water bottles from the fridge and walk over to Steve to give him one. He takes it without looking away from the screen and mumbles a 'thank you'. I want to kiss him, but I'm afraid it would be kinda weird. We're not a couple per se. We've been kissing from time to time, but not regularly, or nearly as much as I would like. Most of the time we act like we always have, more of a fraternal or platonic tint to our relationship, and that feels great too. I'm starting to think anything would feel nice if it involved him.
"What are you watching?" I ask, pointing at the TV and sitting on the other side of the bed. He doesn't answer, so I turn to see what's wrong. He's blushing bright red but he shakes his head and speaks before I can. "Just a movie" they come back from the break as he's speaking and it's the news. I look at him again, but he's sighing. His eyes are closed and he's rubbing them with his hand.
"Hey, you OK?" I ask, a bit worried. "Yeah, yeah, a bit distracted, that's all", I know he's lying, and that does nothing to get rid of the feeling that there's something wrong. I throw him a questioning look. "Something happened today?" I press, and he sighs and falls back on the bed. He looks at me from his new angle and shakes his head.
"You just look really good when you're training", he says, and I roll my eyes. "You're a dork", I reply, and whip him with the towel I had over my shoulders before getting up and walking away. If he doesn't want to talk about it, that's fine, I'm not meddling in his business. "I'm taking a shower", I say from the hall, already halfway to the bathroom. "Maybe you can pick an actual movie for when I get back"
During dinner, he asks me if I want to start training with him. Honestly, the idea of getting back out in the world makes me a bit anxious, but it'd be really nice to train in a real gym, being able to run and use actual equipment. And it'd be with him. That's always a plus.
"You don't have to decide now", he adds when he sees me hesitating. "You can take your time. Say no, if you don't really want to come. It's just an idea, something I'm throwing out there". I nod, actually considering it. "Ok, I'll think about it", I say and then take a sip of my beer as I lean back in my chair.
I consider the possibility later that night, when all is silent and I'm lying in bed staring at the ceiling again. The more I think about it the better it sounds. Like I could really be a part of Steve's life outside of these walls. Like I could really be a part of the world again. By now, I'm fairly certain that physical contact or effort doesn't trigger the… thing they put inside me. I know the monster is still there, but it's a mental state, not a physical one. It'd be so much easier if it was just physical. I would gladly remove my arm if that meant the winter soldier would be permanently gone.
The doctors walk into the room and my heart starts pounding. I instinctively try to get up, but I can't move. I look down and see my arms are strapped to the table. Why can't I break free? I try to look at their faces as they come closer, but they don't have any. They're just moving statues with blank features, faces blurred and uniform. Puppets, dolls, it doesn't matter, I just need to get out.
And then they keep walking, passing right by me and going to the table beside mine. I turn immediately and see him strapped to it. Steve. My heart is threatening to climb up my throat. He can't be here. Not him. Oh, God, please, not him. I try yelling, but my voice is useless, they don't even flinch. I try fighting, but they get to him anyway.
He's biting down on something and has his head, arms and legs strapped to the table. I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe. I can't do anything to stop it. They get a scalpel and cut down on his chest, and I can feel the burn cutting down my own skin.
"Buck!" I open my eyes and try to breathe. I'm in the darkness again. There's no more screaming, no more russian being spoken around me. I welcome the silence and the absence of the bright light of the operating table. "I'm here" he says, tone steady and calm, and I sigh. "I'm sorry", I say, almost instinctively. My heart is pounding, and I can still feel the blade opening my chest. I try focusing on breathing. "Why?" he replies, although he knows what I'm talking about.
"Pretty sure I woke you up", I explain anyway, and he shakes his head. "Couldn't sleep either. Mind if I crash here with you?" he asks, and I smile. I wouldn't want to say it out loud, but I really need him right now. And he's making it sound like it's to his benefit. I'm half asleep, drowsy, and I can tell I'm sweaty from the nightmare, but I don't have the strength to pretend like I don't want him here, like I don't need him here right now. So I sigh and quietly whisper "Please".
He gets in the bed with me, wrapping his arms around me without saying another word. He doesn't need to. Everything's alright now. I rest my head on his chest and the constant beat of his heart lets me drift off peacefully.