Steve watched him for a moment before he finally gave in and nodded slowly. “I… have some things where I”ve been staying. I’d like to get them before… we got to your place.” He pulled out his wallet to settle his tab so they could go.
Bucky nodded as Steve agreed. “We can swing by and pick your things up. I do have an apartment away from the tower where I usually stay, so we’ll go there until you think you’re ready to try the tower.”
Steve looked up at him slowly. “Your friends don’t seem to think that way,” he said quietly. “They wanted to lock me up, throw away the key… put me on trial… if that happened, I wouldn’t live a week. Your government wants me arrested and put on trial, Bucky. They want me dead. How can you even be seen here with me?”
Bucky listened to him and shook his head. “The team knows what you did wasn’t really you. They’ll do what they can to help you adjust.” he promised. He arched a brow at the last question. “You’re my best friend, Steve. If you think I was going to just sit by and let you suffer, you’re wrong. I don’t know what you’ve remembered so far, but I’ve never turned my back on you and I’ll be damned if I do that now.”
Steve watched him carefully for a moment before he dropped his gaze down to his hands, though the metal one seemed to move more slowly than it should have. Probably because he hadn’t had anyone to do any maintenance on it and he could only do so much on his own. “I…. I don’t know what I want to do,” he answered quietly, in a slightly shaky voice. “I… I want to remember you and… and everything that I have forgotten but… the idea that I won’t like what I remember terrifies me. What about all the people I killed, the things I did… how can you just… want to help me after all of that?”
Bucky watched him, reaching over to lay his hand over one of Steve’s. “Because what you did wasn’t you. Not the real you.” he replied. “You didn’t have a choice. They tortured you, Stevie. Brainwashed you and erased everything. I missed a little, but mostly I was there for everything. I don’t regret anything that happened back then, except not being able to save you.” he explained, icy blue eyes watching the blonde. “Come back with me for a while. You can sleep on the couch, or on the floor or in the bed so I can wake you up if you have a nightmare. You don’t need to go through all of this alone.”
Steve looked at the small notebook and pencil and quickly took them, putting them into the pockets of his jacket before looking back up at Bucky slowly once more. “What if I try to hurt you?” he asked quietly. “I… I have nightmares. What if I keep you up at night or…” he trailed off and swallowed hard. “I don’t wanna be a burden to anyone. It’s why I kept hidin’ from you and everyone else.”
Bucky couldn’t help the smile as Steve took the sketchbook and pencil. There was still Steve under all that torture. “I can handle it easier than anyone else, Stevie.” he assured. He was quiet as the other continued, looking down for a moment. “You aren’t the only one who has nightmares. I don’t sleep most nights.” he replied, ice blue eyes looking up at him. “Steve, you could never, ever be a burden to me. Till the end of the line, right?”
Steve sipped at the beer and looked at him for a moment. “I should,” he said quietly. “Your face always shows up in my dreams, my memories… my sketchbooks. I went to the museum. It says your name is James Barnes but that I called you Bucky. It also said I was Captain America until I was presumed dead and you took over.” He took another drink from the beer. “I don’t really remember anything else.”
Bucky watched the other, years of carefully composed features taking in everything. “You started drawing again?” he asked, his tone perhaps a little more hopeful than he’d intended. One hand reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small notebook and a small charcoal pencil, setting it down across from him. He nodded at the comment about his names. “Yeah, you did. You were the only one who did for a real long time, Stevie.” His blue eyes looked pained for a second, and he looked down at his beer. “We all thought you were dead. Watching you fall for trying to save me…I didn’t take the mantle for a while. I couldn’t. But when they realized that Hydra had used their own version of the serum on me, it kind of got pressed until I agreed. I didn’t do it for the stupid fame or nothin’, though. I did it cuz you hated bullies, and Hydra was the biggest bunch of ‘em we could get to.” The Brooklyn was coming out as he spoke, blue eyes just a little hazy as he remembered everything. He looked up at Steve. “They don’t know you’re alive. I can take you home, help you out.”
It showed just how far gone he was when he didn’t even notice the man approach him until he was right there before him on the other side of the table. Steve looked up slowly, dirty blond hair in his face as he did so. He brushed the hair aside and met the man’s gaze, seeing the beers in his hands. His table is littered with shot glasses and other empty bottles but he slowly nods his head slowly.
“I guess you’ve earned that much,” he said quietly, “seeing as how you managed to track me down and find me.” He leaned back in his seat, waiting for Bucky to sit down.
Bucky managed a slight smile, his face barely curving up because of the mixed emotions. It was Steve sitting in front of him, but it wasn’t Steve at the same time. “Been tracking you for a few weeks. Finally figured it was time to approach.” he explained. He set the beer down across from him, helping clear away the mess so that they were seated across from each other comfortably. “Do you know me?”
He’s tired. So incredibly tired. He keeps running for days, for weeks, maybe it’s even been months before he finally is able to find a place to stay. He’s cleaned out the hiding places where he’s kept passports, money, and other ids and currently, he’s using the name Grant Stevens and, since he still looks like he’s twenty four years old, he passes as a college student, and with the money he’s managed to salvage, he’s able to get an apartment in New York and pay twelve months in advance, much to the happiness of the landlord. He doesn’t look for a job just yet. He doesn’t think he can handle that with all of the memories coming back to him in batches, leaving him to where he’s not sleeping at night or eating during the day it seems. He looks a bit malnourished, there are dark shadows under his eyes, and a haunted look about him as he makes his way by train to DC twice a week, wandering through the Smithsonian, reading the plaques, watching the videos, trying to remember.
At night, he hangs out in a bar near his apartment, taking over a back table where the light doesn’t quite reach all the way. He drinks his way through shots of vodka and bottles of beer until he’s so unsteady he can barely walk back home but he manages to do so. He’s gotten into drugs that let him sleep but steal even more of his memories. It’s a double edged sword, he thinks. But it’s not as if anyone is around to help him.
It’s been six months now since the debacle in DC and he knows SHIELD has started putting itself back together and, to his knowledge, Hydra thinks he’s dead. So he goes about his days, walking through the city, trying to remember, and spends his nights wrapped up in alcohol and drugs, trying to forget. It’s a never ending cycle but he knows at some point it will end.
Possibly in his own death… but maybe that would be for the best so he doesn’t hurt anyone else.
Realizing Steve was alive and then losing him when the carriers fell had hit Bucky hard, but it didn’t stop him from trying to find him. He had looked for months before a trip to the museum had him thinking for a moment that he’d seen a familiar face among the crowd. So he made it a habit to go back every day, keeping an eye out. And sure enough, the same person moved among the people, and he followed him a little further each day. It took a while before he could follow him along the streets of the city, on the train back to the small apartment. For a while he would just go and stand outside, wondering if he knocked on the door if he would find Steve or the weapon Hydra had created. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. So when one night, he saw Steve leave, he followed him at a distance to the bar, waiting outside for a while before he dared to enter.
He sat at the bar for the first and second nights, then slowly made his way around each table every few nights until he was just a few tables away. Tonight he ordered an extra beer and moved to stand just out of reach. “Seems kind of lonely. Want some company?” he asked, holding out the unopened bottle.
themusechronicles 