The Asset - Avengers (Moon Struck Fox & Defiant)

Defiant

Defiant

Super-Earth
Joined
May 19, 2015
Location
Canada
Days. Weeks. How long had it been since he'd gotten away? He'd never bothered to count. Days never mattered. Missions mattered. It was what he was alive for. To accomplish missions. And he'd failed. Boy, did he fail. Not only had he actually let Steve Rogers live, he'd saved him. Pulled him from the water instead of just letting him drown. But Steve Rogers, Captain America, had filled his head with so much doubt and confusion he began to feel. He'd never felt something... emotional before. Not even doubt. He'd been sure to his purpose. Always.

Until he'd been sent after Steve. And afterwards he couldn't return. Of course he couldn't return. They'd make sure to punish him for what he'd done, or failed to do. And now it was all falling apart. One had come for him. Told him it was time to return. He'd only meant to knock the man out but he knew he'd killed him. He didn't want them getting that close again. So he stayed on the move.

The longer he stayed away, no guidance or whispered words, missions or direction, the more confused he became. He'd gone to the museum, the pictures and words of the Captain America exhibit had made sense. They collaborated with his memories, no matter how broken the memories were he knew he was this James Barnes. Bucky. But he didn't remember being him.

Captain America had been coming after him too. But the star spangled captain had no idea Bucky wasn't two steps ahead, he was one step behind. He close. He needed answers. He needed direction. Everything was tearing at him, he couldn't focus but the good ol'Captain would help him out. He had the plan, he just needed to execute it. And he had to catch him alone. Sometimes he went running alone, when the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. He would strike then but the last few mornings the other man had been there.

He'd watched him, knew the route. Today he was alone. Today was the day.

Bucky waited. He had the advantage, they were equally matched hand to hand and he had to make this perfect. He inhaled slowly when he heard the heavy footfalls of a runner. Running faster than the average athlete. He exhaled as he stepped around the tree and threw his arm out, the metal slamming against the solid muscle of the Captain's chest. His other hand was grabbing Steve's wrist and his leg shifted as he projected the Captain forward, face-first into the ground. He dove forward, his knees pinning the other man's arms as he lent forward, his metal arm slipping around his throat and the other hand locking the arm there.

He held firm until he felt the tension and fight drain from the other before he stood, he quickly made sure Steve was still breathing before he hoisted him over his shoulder and moved quickly to the car he'd stole. He drove to the abandoned warehouse outside of the city limits, parked inside then carried the blonde to the furthest corner from the door. There was nothing there. Nothing he could use as weapon. He didn't bother to tie him up or handcuff him, they would do nothing to prevent him from escaping.

He grabbed an old chair and moved it to sit in front of Steve, waiting for him to wake. He had a gun resting on his thigh, a basic 9mm but it would work if he tried to get away. He was about fifteen feet away, gun in plain sight as his blue eyes stayed on the only man who could unlock his past.
 
Steve was a mess of confusion, of baffling emotions and emotions he did understand but couldn't figure out why he was feeling them. he wasn't sure what he would have done if it hadn't been for Sam. he'd never heard of PTSD before, not a surprise since it wasn't recognized as an honest mental disorder until the 1980's. he was working through it slowly, he didn't have it as bad as some of the men that Sam helped. Sam kept telling him that there was no 'level' to PTSD, there was no 'better or worse' but Steve knew he was doing better than most. he had shot men, he had killed and slaughtered on the battlefield, he had been frozen in ice, he remembered the feeling of the ice creeping over him while his lungs screamed for air. then he woke up in a hospital with a game he'd gone to playing on the radio and knew something was wrong, which had only made the trauma all the worse. the technology of the world, being betrayed by Brock, no. it was Rumlow now. Steve couldn't let himself think of that Hydra assassin as a friend anymore.

he shook his head and finished tying his shoes. he didn't want to think anymore. Shield was gone, the Avengers where scattered again, Tony was loosing his mind, Bruce was... somewhere in Rio last Steve had heard. Natasha was still hanging around somewhere. Phil was dead... Steve, as usual, felt his heart clench with guilt and shame when remembering Phil. all he had was Sam and the hunt for Bucky. Bucky who was never where Steve wanted him to be. when had that ever been a surprise though? Bucky had always been extremely independent, if he didn't want to be found Steve knew he would never really find him. but it wasn't like that, he did find Bucky, often. he'd catch him and then Bucky would slide away like water or an illusion. as if he was playing with Steve, mocking him, teasing him the wa he'd used to when they where kids. 'Hah! Steve, you can't catch me!' a voice from the past, they'd been all of ten back then, before they understood that tag was not an okay game to play while one of them was an asthmatic. he missed those days. he sighed, shook his head and had half a second to realize there was an arm, a metal arm right there before it was caving in his chest.

he felt a rib snap and his sternum crack, the bright flare of pain driving out any air that was left over from the impact. he was flying through the air, being attacked, struggling wildly against the arm wrapped around his neck, desperate for the gulp of air that wasn't coming. he was a super soldier, choking him out took longer than it did most people. he was too dizzy and panicked to wonder why the person holding him down wasn't getting tired while he bucked, arched and writhed before finally, finally going still, laying there with his mouth open, body gulping in fresh air even with his brain down for the count. he wouldn't stay out for long though, an hour at the most. an hour and a half if Bucky was really lucky. he was really lucky. Steve was out for an hour and twelve minutes exactly while his ribs and sternum healed and his brain recovered from the trauma of having no air. it made him dream of the ice. the cold, all encompassing ice. he jerked awake with a gasp, gulping in air, rolling to his feet and slamming into the nearest wall, protecting his beck, lifting his fists to protect his front and swinging at empty air, blinking several times in a desperate attempt to clear his vision, confused when he realized he hadn't been tied up, drugged or anything that most kidnappers did to try to keep him down.

"the hell?" Steve muttered, eyes scanning the room, landing on Bucky he went rigid, confused and rather hurt that the man he had trusted all of his life had tried to kill him. again. but no, if Bucky wanted him dead, he'd be dead. he'd been helpless after all, out cold. it would have taken a single bullet, maybe two. one in the heart, one in the head just to be sure. Steve had no doubt that a shot to the heart would kill him. he was tougher, not impervious. so, the question was.... what did Bucky want after all this time?

"Hey Buck." that's it, go for nonchalant while you completely freak out inside. doing great. "can i help you with something or did you just feel like hanging out?" well crap, there was the sarcastic sass he just couldn't help but use. oh well, it had never bothered Bucky in the past, maybe it wouldn't now.
 
Silently he watched the super soldier jerk awake and begin to become coherent. He didn't move, didn't react. He let the soldier do his thing, watching him intently, getting a feel for the other man. He'd never actually interrogated before, he wasn't needed for that. He just killed. But he didn't want to kill Steve. He wanted to be something different and to be that he had to figure out who he was.

He met Steve's eyes, held his gaze. Gave nothing away of what was going behind the scenes in that mucked up brain of his. Bucky kept watching, not answering Steve's questions right away. He thought it through. He struggled with words. He hadn't used them for so long, not like everyone else did anyway. He was trained to be efficient. Rambling didn't fall under efficient. It wasn't that he was stupid, it was just a struggle. And part of him was scared.

“I need help,” he stated, the scruff covering his chin had come in thick. It didn't grow when he was in stasis and it was shaved while he was waking up. It wasn't something he'd bothered with before and he wasn't starting when there was so much more going on. “I want to know who I am. Who you think I am,” he clarified. He stood from the chair and went to go grab another one. He brought it closer to Steve, set it down then backed away to sit on his own. He wasn't in much of a trusting state lately.

He holstered his gun before sitting again and motioned for Steve to take a seat. “You're the only one alive who ever knew me before they did whatever it is they did to me,” he reasoned and let out a sigh as he looked away from Steve. Words were so frustrating. He could say four words to relay adequate information to his handlers but this was just so different. The emotions and the memories, he wanted to just scream it all out and have it feel okay again. He'd managed before, apparently. So he could again.

He raked his fingers through his hair before returning his gaze to Steve. “They erased him. Bucky. But I can still see his memories. Some of them. I want to be him again.” Honesty, there it was. It made him sound weak but it got out what he needed Steve to know. Or he hoped it did.
 
Steve stared back at him, wondering if he was supposed to be intimidated? it wasn't working if that was Bucky's intentions, it might have worked if he was still small, for a few seconds. he had always been a bullheaded asshole though so even when he was small and sick all the time he had never really been intimidated by anyone save his mother. even then it was more fear of having his hide tanned or his drawing things taken away than fear of her, herself. one thing that was different was that he didn't seam to be able to tell what Bucky was thinking anymore. not that it had been hard back then. mostly what Bucky had thought about, in Steve's opinion, had been women and annoyance that Steve was i yet another fight. not all that hard to figure out what he was thinking when those where the dominating thoughts really. he could only stand there and stare at his best friend, now that he was actually paying attention, Bucky looked like shit.

"Help?" Steve asked, a little bit startled. he'd heard Bucky ask for help before, but he'd never heard an assassin ask for help. Clint, Natasha, even Fury. none of them ever asked for help. not ever. hell Fury had literally died and he hadn't even asked for help then. the one eyed bastard. so, this was somehow a mix of Bucky, but not really Bucky, and an assassin, who had somehow failed to be a proper assassin. it was kind of weird. still, Bucky was sitting, right there, asking for help. help that Steve could actually somewhat offer him. help that, what Steve couldn't give, his friend Sam could. they could help Bucky and fuck if Steve wasn't going to do everything he could to give his best friend that chance! he hesitated for a second before sitting down in the offered chair, watching Bucky sit back down, his head tilted.

"Bucky. i'm sorry." Steve admitted, the words echoing in his heart. he had said something similar to Sam. 'i just want to be who i used to be Sam' that was what he'd said. now he repeated Sam's words back to Bucky. "there is no being the man you once where. the Bucky i used to know, hasn't experienced all the hell and heartache you have experienced. you can't be Bucky from nineteen forty four anymore. you have to find a new balance and become someone new, someone you can be content being. trying to be the person you where? won't help you at all." he admitted. "i'd know better than anyone." because he'd tried, god had he tried so hard to be the perfect captain America instead of the fucked up soldier he really was. "you can't just shove everything that happened into a little box and pretend it didn't happen Buck. it's just not possible." he admitted, trying to be as soft and soothing as Sam was. he knew he was failing but he was trying his best.

"how about you come back to my house? it's a real nice place. you can meet my friend Sam. he's helped me through a lot of the problems your facing and he might even know the best way to help you get some of your memories back." he offered. "you really need a shower and a shave and you look like you could use some fresh clothes and a hot meal. i'll make you your favorite? well, it used to be your favorite." he admitted. "i have chocolate too. you know, chocolate costs a dollar seventy five now? but nearly every single person can afford it. it's really insane. and the moving pictures in the theaters? people have them in their homes now. they're called T.V.'s, short for Television." he admitted, smiling at James. "they have this thing called a microwave too. you cook things in it, like in an oven, but in a third of the time. it's amazing. you can make a full bowl of popcorn in less than a minute." he wasn't sure how much of that Bucky knew, but he knew it was pretty damn amazing. considering they had once been poor enough they didn't have even a stove. "come on. it'll be fun. i'll tell you stories about how you used to get me in trouble."
 
Every word Steve spoke Bucky clung to. He knew he couldn't be the man he'd been before. He didn't even know if he could be a functional human being at this point. But he wanted to. He wanted to not see fear in people's eyes when they looked at him. Steve was hitting all the right points though. He didn't know if he could be content with himself. Since Steve had woken something inside of him, he felt regret for what he'd done. During the attack at SHIELD he'd killed 15 people easily. On his own. Of people just trying to protect the good in the world. And that was only something he remembered. There was so much more he didn't remember, if he did, could he even live with himself?

Bucky leaned back against the chair, his spine loosing that rigidness. He was tired. So very tired. “I know I can't be him. The man from 1944. They erased him,” Bucky said. “But I want to know who he was. Not from a wall his picture on it but from you. Cause you knew him,” he pointed out. “Content?” He asked, more to himself, saying the word out loud made it seem even more impossible to achieve. “I killed. A lot,” he looked away from Steve. He'd reached out, more than reached out. He'd kidnapped Steve and now he was having trouble opening up.

Just spill. Spit it out. He's not a handler. Talk. Move your mouth and your vocal cords in tandem and let it out.

Bucky dropped his head back and ran a hand over his scruffy face before looking to Steve again and sighed once more. “I'm tired. I don't want to have to keep looking over my shoulder for them. I don't want to have to sit in that chair and have my brain zapped until I can't remember anything except what's been integrated,” he admitted and looked down. “I don't know if I can be like you, I have no idea if I can fit in but I'd rather try to fit in than be Hydra's weapon again.”

He hadn't known exactly what he wanted until the words were leaving his mouth. When Steve spoke again he looked to who was supposed to be his old friend and arched a brow at him. He knew what a TV was, he didn't know what chocolate tasted like and a microwave sounded dangerous. “Moving pictures? Like a video?” he asked, tilting his head, not sure what point the other was trying to make. But his whole life had been about completing missions as efficiently as possible. All the things Steve spoke of sounded unnecessary and not functional for a mission. Especially chocolate. It was a candy or something like that. He'd never had a need for it.

“You're friend who works for the VA? Sam,” he said, he hadn't known his name. “The woman, with red hair. What's her name?” He asked, sitting up. He couldn't deny the idea of a shower, shave and fresh clothes did sound nice. “Fine,” he said after a few moments and glanced at Steve as he stood. He was putting a lot of trust in the man he was supposed to kill, but then again, Steve welcoming him into his home was putting a lot of trust in Bucky.
 
Steve could only hope he was reaching Bucky. the man was closed up like a clam.there was no way he could read Bucky at this point, he'd had too much training, better than Natasha even was. she still had emotions that would come out if she was feeling relaxed, with Bucky... Steve had a feeling that they would have to teach Bucky how to express emotions again, maybe even how to feel them again. he was in way over his head. why couldn't Bucky have kidnapped Sam? at least Sam could be useful in this situation. helpful. Steve couldn't even figure out how to use a cellphone or his email correctly yet. what good was he in this kind of position? sure he could talk to Bucky like he'd used to, tell him stories about the good old days, but wouldn't that make it worse? he wanted his best friend back, yes, but the Bucky he'd once known was not the man he wanted. that man who was soft and fragile, who hadn't seen war and pain and didn't know what it felt like to have blood on his hands. that wasn't the real Bucky anymore. the guy sitting in front of him, broken into a million pieces, that was Bucky and Steve couldn't help him.

"nothing is erased forever." Steve admitted softly. "body always remembers, even when the brain doesn't." because even now, he moved carefully in the mornings getting out of bed, in case his scoliosis acted up. he always paused before running, wary of his asthma that no longer existed. was careful in fights until he remembered he wasn't small and weak anymore. nothing that most people would notice. Steve noticed though, and sometimes he hated himself for being weak, even when he wasn't anymore.

"yeah, i can tell you about him." Steve promised with a small smile. "sometimes i miss him." he admitted. "and then i remember he would have hated it here, would have hated who i became." he admitted. "Bucky from back then, he never would have settled here." Steve admitted before smiling at Bucky. "yes, content. you know, happy with who you are and where you are in life. have to admit, i haven't reached that point yet, but i'm getting there." he admitted before shaking his head. "you think i haven't? i've murdered, Bucky. that's what you have to do sometimes. i've killed women, children in the name of war and i've hurt them even now, in this day and age." just last week, he had to go and stop a sixteen year old boy who had bought into terrorism and had been trying to slaughter a lot of high rise officials. it had been some party that Steve had been invited to, not that he'd gone. rubbing elbows made him edgy and uncomfortable. he ended up going anyway because of the terror threat. kid had a bomb, a functioning one. Steve had made the choice and he regretted it now. okay, not really, but still, it had been a hard choice and he knew there would be even harder ones to come.

"then don't. your a strong man Bucky. stand up, defend yourself. they don't control you anymore. you proved that when you pulled me out of the water instead of letting me drown. you proved that time and time again when you let me catch glimpses of you instead of running back to them. your proving that right now, sitting here in front of me, asking for help. help you will have even if i have to break down doors and kidnap people myself." he promised. "i won't let them hurt you anymore. i won't let them have you." he promised. "you won't be a weapon ever again. over my cold dead body." he swore.

"yeah, moving pictures, videos. i was totally shocked, you know? they have moving screens everywhere now. it's actually considered weird if you don't have one in your house." he admitted. he hadn't had one in his house actually. well, apartment. he had done the 'creepy old man' thing and filled his apartment with old crap trying to cling to a place he could never have again. he had a TV ow though, Sam insisted. he liked the cartoons actually. Tom and Jerry was Steve's favorite, suitably violent without any blood or gore. sometimes Clint came over and they played war games on this little box that they put round disks in. he was getting pretty damn good even if he couldn't tell the difference between an X-box, a Wii or a Play-Station.

"Yeah. Sam Wilson. the Falcon. you kicked his ass on the Helli-carrier." he admitted with a grin. "Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. she kicked your ass on the bridge." he admitted with a chuckle. "she's the one who told me who you where. you know, before i realized you where Bucky." he admitted. "i have to admit, when she told me about the Winter Soldier, i thought she needed to be checked into a loony bin even more than i did." he admitted. "fine? you mean you'll come? really? i thought i was going to have to cajole some more." he admitted, standing up as well. "so." Steve said, looking around. "i have no idea where we are." he admitted with a sigh. "i'm going to have to call Sam to come pick us up. i hate D.C. it's so big and busy and no one gives anyone directions." he grumbled. Tony had repeatedly offered Steve a place at his... ugly, tower but Steve wanted to stay in D.C in the hopes that Bucky might show up. turns out he wasn't just being overly hopeful.

"let's see..." he stared at his phone for a moment, trying to remember before shrugging. Sam said he was supposed to go through the contacts list, he wasn't sure why. it was easier just to punch in the list of numbers he could actually remember than trying to find some list of contacts and figure out how to make a call from the name selected. "Sam! hey it's Steve. oh, right, yeah Caller I.D i know. it's being polite! listen i'm lost. no actually i was kidnapped this time. ahuh i'm fine. no it was Bucky who kidnapped me. yeah i know, like i said i'm not hurt. he's going to stay with me for a while and he could use some of your help. he's a bit more messed up than i am i think. look, can you just come pick me up and take me home? i'm hungry. yes i have the protein bars." Steve said, rolling his eyes even if he flushed a little, indicating he was lying and had, indeed, forgotten about the food he always had stashed on his person. "yeah see you in a bit." Steve had no idea how Wilson always found him even when Steve could never give directions but he did.

"want one?" he asked Bucky, offering the other a protein bar, peanut butter and chocolate. both things Steve and Bucky could ever have afforded back before they where frozen. "the serum that's in y body, the one that made me big and healthy and stuff, it means i need about five times the food of normal people because i burn through calories at an extreme rate. candy like this, helps a lot with that." he admitted, chewing on his bar. "and they taste pretty great too so it's kind of awesome." he admitted, opening a second bar and munching on that one too.
 
Bucky remained quiet as Steve called his friend, the one he'd attacked on the helli-carrier. He remembered him clearly. And the fight. He hadn't been wiped since before that event. He listened to the one-sided conversation, standing still and remaining silent. “I have a car,” he pointed out when the other man was off the phone. It was stolen so it was probably a good idea to leave it here. At least they wouldn't have cops following them as he hadn't been bothered to switch the plates or anything.

When he was offered a protein bar he only furrowed his brows as he shook his head. He hadn't mastered the art of solid food yet. He knew how to eat and he had eaten recently but he usually threw it up. He'd been on a liquid diet as the asset, or the winter soldier, or whatever they wanted to call him. He'd been woken, prepped, given some sort of drink and put on a mission. Then he'd been put on a mission. Once the mission was complete he was wiped, froze then the process was repeated. Usually...

Bucky watched Steve out of the corner of his eye as he ate another one of those bars. He'd seen some of his guards eating them, or at least stuff like them. Bars in wrappers. He could remember being on a table, poked and prodded while listening to those wrappers being crinkled and torn then crumpled up and tossed away. He clenched his fist as he heard the wrapper from Steve's bar. He looked at the other man and reminded himself where he was, what was happening. Things were going to change and he had to take steps to make sure it happened.

He'd tried to read up on himself once the news hit SHIELD and Hydra's secrets had all been leaked but his information wasn't there. Well, nothing about him as the winter soldier. There was plenty about James Buchanan Barnes. If he were honest he found the man boring. Mundane even. He was friends with Captain America, watched his ass when he weighed 80 pounds soaking wet. Then he was fighting the good fight and had apparently died. That was that. That was where Sergeant Barnes' story ended.

“Steve?” Bucky's head jerked towards the door as it creaked open and the other man, the winged man, Sam, stepped into the building. “Hey there... you,” Sam said since he saw Bucky before Steve and froze in his tracks. “Oh, hey. Okay,” he sighed when he saw Steve. “Starting thinking this was a trap or something,” he said and held his hands up when Buck arched a brow at him. “Nothing against you man, it's just. Well, you being a master assassin and the last time I saw you, you kicked me off of a carrier. Miles high. After ripping off one of my wings. But uhh, no grudges right?” He asked and held out a hand.

Bucky stared at him a moment, his brain gauging the situation. “This protocol is unusual,” he mumbled quietly and took Sam's hand in his own and gave it a shake. He pulled his hand free and gave it a look then diverted his gaze.

“So uh, what's going on there? Why'd you look at your hand then look away?” Sam asked, the counsellor in him unable to refrain from jumping on the action.

“I've never touched another person without violence,” Bucky answered easily. Sam just nodded and glanced at Steve, he noticed the wrappers.

“Well, there'll be a lot more good touching to come,” he said and clapped his hands together. “That uh, sounded wrong. I haven't been in this situation ever so let's go,” he said and looked to Steve. “You remembered those after I reminded you of them,” he stated, pointing from the wrappers to Steve as he headed towards the car.

“You both speak a lot,” he pointed out as his feet began to follow the other man, despite the hesitation he was feeling. He glanced to Steve, making sure he was following too before he climbed into the car and sat back in the seat.

Sam turned on some music as he drove, glancing in the rearview mirror periodically. He tried to catch Steve's eye a few times, he needed the man to know how he felt, he didn't think it was wise to bring an assassin home like a lost puppy. Especially a breed who's bite was most definitely worse than it's bark. He felt bad for James Barnes but Hydra had him for 70 plus years. It was a lot of work to undo and he worried about Steve.

Sam pulled up to Steve's place and put the vehicle in park. “Alright, if you need anything you know how to reach me. I'll keep my phone nearby. Ya know, just in case,” he said quietly and glanced at James who had his gaze lowered as he drummed his metal fingers against his knee.

“I'll give you a few minutes to talk,” Bucky said and climbed out of the car rather quickly.

Sam shifted in his seat and looked to Steve. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset him but he didn't know who you were last time he saw you. I'm just being cautious here,” he defended himself quickly. “But what I said stand. I'll have my phone close by in case you need anything.”
 
Steve was completely unaware of what the wrappers where doing to Bucky, fortunately he unwrapped the bar and dropped it on the ground, minimizing the noise, gulping the bars down in fast, sharp bites. he ate six of them before he deemed himself done, or maybe that was because he ran out, he did save two for Bucky. he always saved something for Bucky. it was an ingrained habit from childhood. save something for Bucky, a piece of his mothers cake, a piece of the chocolate bar he managed to steal without anyone noticing, the dollar h'd found on the ground. the bullets for their guns, the bandages in his pocket, the whiskey in the bottle, the cigarettes they handed out to all the soldiers that Steve had never really liked the taste of. always save something fr Bucky, it was something he had done, even without Bucky being there. he had a feeling Sam had noticed, but no one else seamed to have.

Steve jerked as well, startled by the sudden call of his name, he had been lost in thought and hadn't noticed the other coming up. he hadn't responded to Bucky having a car, he had a feeling it wasn't really Bucky's. where would a Hydra assassin only recently free get a car? especially when said person had died in nineteen forty four. he smiled at Sam and moved over to him a little when the man paused and raised his hands. he could only imagine what was going through his friends head. 'Steve's gone mad, i'll have to have him admitted' or 'i am never going to forgive Steve for this' or maybe even 'if i run away now, maybe i'll still be alive in the morning'. well, Steve had always had an active imagination.

"hey Sam, thanks for coming to get me. sorry about the surprise, i was lost in thought, didn't hear you show up." he explained before sighing a little. he should have known Sm would be having trouble with this. Natasha was unlikely to like it much either and Ton was going to chew his ass out as soon as Natasha told him. he was decided though, Bucky was his brother, his best friend, they had been through everything together. he had to try, he had to help Bucky. he had to make the effort even if there was no hope because if he didn't, then it was like letting him fall off that train all over again. he couldn't let Bucky fall again, especially since he had long realized, he had survived crashing a plane and being frozen for seventy years. he would most likely have survived jumping after Bucky. he could have saved Bucky and he hadn't because he was a coward and a failure. he had to do this, for himself, just as much as it was for Bucky. he did feel bad for Sam though, having the man who'd tried to kill you, right there. he had a feeling Sam wasn't used to stuff like that the way Steve was.

"it's not Protocol, it's social interaction. it's a greeting." Steve corrected, worried now. Bucky couldn't even remember what a handshake was? Bucky was the master of handshakes, well, he'd used to be. he had been suave, popular, he had shaken so many hands in his life that it had become an ingrained habit. he'd even shaken the ladies hands, something most of them had been pleasantly surprised by. he tensed when he heard Bucky explain what he had been thinking about that handshake an he had to force himself to calm down. he didn't want Bucky to think that there was any danger.

"that did sound pretty bad Sam." Steve teased, chuckling. "i think you really need to look into getting laid if that's all you can think about in a time like this." it was nice to tease someone again. Sam would have fit in very well with the Commandos.

"i did not! i ate those before i called you!" Steve lied, blush spanning across his cheeks. he was a bad, bad liar. "we do talk a lot." Steve agreed with Bucky. "it's something we like to do. it's fun." he admitted, wondering just how bad his social interactions really where. how much had Bucky lost to those monsters? handshakes, hugs, even conversation? how in the world was he supposed to help Bucky? he crawled into the back seat with Bucky, watching his once best friend before looking up at the mirror, eyes catching Sam's. he saw the others worry and acknowledged it, but his baby blue eyes burned with determination. there would be no talking Steve out of this decision.

"Thanks Sam." Steve said, smiling at him. he felt a bit bad for Sam too. he didn't want to slight Sam's friendship just because he had his old best friend back. he was going to have to do something nice to make it up to him. take him out drinking or something, Steve couldn't get Drunk but Sam was pretty fun when he was drunk. plus, he had an entire phone full of blackmail material, once he'd figured out how to take pictures anyway. he had yet to admit that he couldn't figure out how to find those pictures though.

"okay." Steve agreed, watching Bucky leave. "i don't think he's upset, i think he just didn't like that he wasn't the one driving." he admitted. "he knows who i am. he asked me for help. i can't not help him Sam, i... he took care of me, my whole life, it's my turn to take care of him now. i can't just give up n him because he's broken. i'm broken too, you know? i'm shattered inside and if i just give up on him without ever trying i'll never be able to forgive myself. it might not work, i might not be able to hlp, he might not be able to recover but i have to try, Sam. i have to try." he said, looking at Sam with wet eyes and his hands curled into trembling fists. heart slamming in his chest because he knew that this was going to be a long, hard road. even worse than fighting Hydra with a handful of people, worse than lingering in back alleys picking fights to prove he didn't need Bucky to always save him, worse than laying in a bed, wondering if that was what dying felt like.

"i'll call you if anything at all happens. i promise. i know your worried, but he can't do much to permanently hurt me anymore. if he gets violent, or breaks down or whatever i'll call you immediately. i won't take unnecessary risks and i won't be stupid about it." he promised, eve doing the three fingered Boyscout salute. Steve always kept his promises, he was a weird guy like that. "it's going to be fine." he tried to reassure the other before he slipped out of the car and headed for his little house. Ton had bought it for him. it was one of the most secure houses in the world. it was a cute little white house with blue accents. there was a little white picket fence around the property and a large flower garden all around the property and along the house. it was adorable really. the American flag perched high on it's pole, flapping in the wind and Steve headed up to the gate, swinging it open and motioning Bucky to follow. "Come on inside." he offered, pausing at the door to press his thumb to the middle of the doorknob, a small panel on the wall flipping over to reveal a punch pad that Steve tapped a code into. "i'll add your thumbprint to the reader." Steve promised. "and the code is 2637411." Steve explained when the door released with a soft puff. the inside was as quaint as the outside was. it was a good mix of modern and nineteen forties decor. comfortable and not too overwhelming for a man who had only just started to accept that he was in a new Era.

"Make yourself at home."
 
Sam didn't know if Steve's words were more for himself or really for Sam but he knew Steve could handle himself. Physically. But he also knew Steve was emotionally involved to a point where if Bucky did something, Steve may not make the right decision. Or he wouldn't be able to make the tough decisions. And if Bucky did open up, he worried about the effect it would have on Steve's mental health. Both of them had been through so much that Sam was not really qualified for but then again, nobody was really qualified for what Captain America and the winter soldier had been through.

“Hey man, he called you. He even looks different. Everything will work out. But you need to know he's going to need time. Don't push him too much. He's not the same guy. He may never be. You need to know that before this all starts,” Sam urged. He couldn't have his friend going out and getting himself excited to have James Barnes back when all they'd get was his body and someone new.

“Well maybe two together is what you need to get better,” he said and returned Steve's salute and watched them both get into the house before driving off. He felt alright leaving Steve with Buck after seeing him. The guy didn't have that murderous, mechanical look in his eyes anymore. And he didn't hold himself the same way he did either. He wasn't vulnerable but he didn't look ready to attack either.

The code was integrated to memory. He eyed the flowers. They seemed wrong, in a way. But they seemed fitting too. It seemed odd for a super soldier to live in such a quaint home. The word seemed foreign in thought. Home. It was a place to feel safe, surrounded by love. Foreign. He was used to ice, cold, violence. But it was never home. “Home” he said the word, letting it roll of his tongue, trying it on for size.

“Concept is foreign,” he mumbled and slid his hat from his head as he looked around. He glanced down at his boots and knelt to unlace them before he slid them off. He stood and unzipped his hoodie, his eyes still taking in what would be serving as his lodgings for now. Hopefully as long as Steve would have him there. Or until he was capable of assimilating. Being a human once more. Something more than a weapon. A thing trained to analyze and kill. He had a name, now he wanted to belong to it.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror and touched his face, he really did need to shave. Steve had been right when he said he needed a shave. And he was sure he was overdue for a shower as well. He glanced around and hung up his hoodie then set his hat on top of it. He nudged his boots to the side, out of the way.

“I think I should have that shower you were talking about,” he said with a slow nod of his head, he didn't exactly stink but he wasn't fresh either. He'd bathed but it had been quick. Not exactly thorough. And his beard was coming in thick and getting longer than he'd preferred. It wasn't at a proper, functional length.

Bucky wasn't stupid, he wasn't incompetent either. He knew how things works. He knew the basics of most modern electronics on a need to know basis. If he was woken for information retrieval then he would clear the way for whoever was to access computers but if said person was injured or killed, the components and how to hack were integrated. It was a hub of information he didn't know how to access. It was like riding about. He couldn't explain it, he just knew how to do it.

But human interaction. He was informed but many of it didn't make sense. It seemed so... unneeded. A waste of time. Smiling even felt wrong. Why use a muscle group for smiling when there was no tactical relevance to the action? But he knew he could do it. He saw himself doing it before Hydra scrapped everything human about him out.

He took his time in the bathroom after getting the ins and outs from Steve. He shaved and his face felt cold even under the hot spray of the shower. He cleaned himself thoroughly under the scorching water, his skin turning a darker shade of pink under the heat. He felt sanitized afterwards.

When he was finished he dried and wrapped the towel around his waist. The clothes he'd been wearing needed a wash as well so he gathered them out and stepped out of the bathroom. He could hear Steve in another room and walked silently through the hallway to find him. “Can I borrow some clothes? Until these are clean?” He asked, lifting the dark clothing he'd been wearing.
 
"He does look different. more human this time. he's still really mechanic though, like those creepy robots Tony keeps around." Steve admitted with a sigh. "i know Sam. i know he can never be the same as he was. i told him that too, the same thing you told me. about how i could never be who i used to be." he admitted. "he wants to be Bucky again, asked me to tell him about himself but i'm not sure if that would actually help him or not. i'll try a few of the more calm stories. maybe about how he used to dance with my Ma or something." he muttered. "i don't want him to try forcing himself to be the person he used to be." he admitted. "i tried that already. it didn't nd well." he grumbled. honestly if the events of D.C. hadn't happened, if he'd never met Sam, who knew if he'd have manged to stay out of depression. he had been sinking into it as it was when he started running, trying to drown his problems. it would have been a huge mess if he hadn't found Sam.

"Yeah, Home. for however long you need." he promised James with a smile. "i know how you feel. it took me a long time to understand the concept of home again myself." he admitted. "adjusting was really hard for me. i can't imagine what i would have done if i hadn't met Sam. he really helped me adjust to my new life." he admitted. the inside was really very comfortable. full of fluffy furniture and dark woods. there was still a few things that Steve didn't want to give up, like his Gramophone. though, people didn't call it that anymore. it was 'record player' now. it was in the corner of the living room ext to a bookshelf full of his favorite records. mostly it was swing and jazz but he had some blues in there too. he did have some more modern music available too, he particularly liked the Beach Boys and the Beatles and he thought Madonna, Cindi Laupner and a few others where pretty nice too. Tony had even gotten him into Imagine Dragons, ACDC and Nickleback, though he didn't have the more modern music because he hadn't gotten around to getting a CD player yet.

"yeah you definitely need one." Steve agreed to Bucky's shower idea. while Bucky didn't stink, Steve knew from personal experience a shower could be very cleansing. he showed Bucky into the nicely modern bathroom. bigger than what Steve really needed but there was no arguing with Tony. there was a huge bathtub on one wall and a very nice standing shower in the corner. Steve would never admit it, but he loved filling the bathtub with bubbles and soaking in it. or bath fizzies, or bath salts, or any number of 'womanly habits' as Natasha called them. he had all of his 'girly' things well hidden, Bucky might find them but Steve doubted the other would be curious enough to go poking around for a while. he set out the soap and shampoo and handed him a towel and wash rag promising they could go to the store and get Bucky his own bath supplies once the other was feeling better.

another thing he owned that he refused to give up was his straight razor and the things that went with it. the Hone, the Strop, the shaving brush and even the little tin of shaving cream that one had to whip themselves and then brush onto their face with the brush. he couldn't stand using those flimsy little 'safety razors' that where 'safer'. sure they where safer but they didn't work worth a damn! even if he did have several men's safety razors for when Ton or Sam came to stay the night. he left Bucky alone in the shower and headed into his bedroom to find some of his smaller clothes that would fit Bucky a little better. he'd have to call Tony and see about using the others card to buy Bucky some much needed things. Bucky was going to need a whole new wardrobe, personal effects, toiletries and probably a medical check too.

when James spoke Steve jerked in surprise and yelped when his head connected to something hard. he staggered out of his closet, clutching his head before grinning sheepishly at Bucky. "yes! of course! sorry i meant to have some set out for you but i got distracted." he admitted. "here. this stuff should fit you a little better." he admitted, indicating the pile on the bed. "i'll take you shopping once you feel ready for clothes and shoes and your own shaving kit and stuff." he promised. "i'll wash that stuff too. i can work a washing machine now. Natasha taught me." he admitted with a grin. he'd been washing his clothes by hand previously, he had to admit, the washing machine was a lot more efficient, even if he didn't think they got as clean as when he did them by hand.

"you feel better?" he asked the other, slipping out the door so that Bucky could get dressed in privacy. "i have some hot soup on the stove for you. some toasted cheese too." in the nineteen twenties, when processed bread and cheese became nice and cheep, it was common to have 'open faced' grilled cheese sandwiches that where called toasted cheese or melted cheese sandwiches. Steve had often lived off of them because he and his mother had been rather poor. it had been a staple of his diet and something he often had when he was feeling upset or nostalgic.
 
Bucky looked to the pile of clothes on the bed and walked over to it. He picked up a pair of sweat pants and moved the material between his fingers, his brows furrowed as he thought. “These are softer than what I wore before,” he pointed out. It had always been jeans and protective gear or nothing. He was being naked when a whole medical team was poking and prodding at him while guards stood near by after a mission. Or when he woke from stasis. He would spend the first few hours in the buff, his vitals and muscles being checked over before he was briefed and sent out to a mission.

“Yes,” he answered simply and watched the other leave the room and looked down at the clothes again. He wasn't sure why the other had left him alone but knew the medical team and guards were never naked around him so it was logical it was something they only expected of him. He dropped the towel and pulled the pants on then a long sleeved shirt.

“I haven't eaten solid food yet,” he said in way of warning and stepped over to the door and looked at Steve. “I throw up when I eat solid food. My stomach is not used to it,” he pointed out. He glanced down at his clothes then looked at Steve. There was a small pinch behind his left eye, a sensation he'd become accustomed to when he'd remember something. It would be a phrase, a picture, a name. Sometimes it made no sense and sometimes it was like he got a whole year of his life back. Or a single mission. He hated the missions. He felt littered with guilt afterwards.

“Clothes are too big,” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't mean on him, or on Steve. But it was something he felt like he had to say. He inhaled sharply through his nose and got a good whiff of Steve. Part of his brain remembered how he smelt before the war while another part of his brain registered how different he smelt. He stepped away from the doorway and went to sit on the bed.

The memory came back like a movie. It was dark and the room stank of medical cleanliness but there was an underlying heaviness of mold or something. He could hear his own voice, chanting something. He didn't know what exactly. His eyes couldn't see very clearly either. It was all blurry. He remembered a scrawny little blonde, he was scrappy. “You got big,” his slurry voice said in the memory.

Bucky shook his head. “You were small before... before something happened,” he clenched his jaw, the headache was backing off now, thankfully. The movie memories seemed to hurt his brain the most. But it had been so long without being wiped they were coming more often now. “Scrappy,” he said and ran his hands over his face, the metal of his left arm still warm from the shower.

“What kind of soup?” He asked after a few moments, he wasn't used to dwelling on his memories, he didn't have anyone to help him sort it out afterwards. No way of making sense of what he'd seen and it would usually leave him frustrated and more confused. Until he found a computer, typed in a general idea of what he'd seen. Usually he did that for assassinations. Figure out who it was he'd killed. And hope they'd done things in their life which made their death almost like justice. But it was rare.

Hydra was the bad apple. The poison spreading their disease to others and he'd helped them by eliminating good people. He understood how and why, his hands had acted without knowledge or the ability to make his own decisions but it had still been his hands to rob people of their lives and he was going to have to find a way to live with that.
 
"they're sweatpants. made out of cotton instead of... actually i'm not sure what Jeans are made out of." he admitted. "some sort of tougher material, maybe it is cotton? i don't know." he shrugged. "they're really comfortable at any rate so feel free to wear anything you want. i have a few jeans in there too for you and some shorts too." he explained, completely unaware of Bucky's thought process. how was Steve to know that Bucky was used to being naked? not that Steve was much better. when one lived in the slums, you shared bathing space with others. he had no shower in his own home, instead he had gone to the local bath house to wash up. during the army, there was no privacy at all. none whatsoever. you dressed, ate, slept and even masturbated in the company of other men always. Steve had never had much for modesty to be honest but he had enough to know that others where uncomfortable being naked around other people usually.

you haven't... what!?" he demanded, shocked. "they had you on a liquid diet?" he demanded, fidgeting unhappily. he had to, just HAD to get Bucky to a doctor now. who knew what kind of horrible, horrible injuries or diseases Bucky might have being so ill treated! who to call? Bruce would probably be the most trusted, but he was always going on about how he wasn't that kind of doctor. maybe Bruce could recommend someone though? he would have to figure out how to text the mean green scientist. or he'd text Tony, he knew how to text Tony and Tony always knew where Bruce was. he'd get Bruce down here to look Bucky over and if Bruce couldn't do anything then he'd get Bruce to recommend a doctor they could trust, maybe someone from the X-Men or from the Fantastic Four? they had to have doctors too right?

"Sorry, they're all i got. i'll ask Sam to bring over some of his stuff, you might fit in those a little better." he decided, not realizing that wasn't what Bucky was talking about, how could he? sometimes he wished he was like those psychic mutants. just read Bucky's, or Tony's, or even Natasha ad Sam's minds to know what they where really thinking. what they where really feeling.

"Oh! yeah." Steve was a bit startled by the sudden comment and smiled at Bucky. "i was in the Rebirth Project." he explained. "i was chosen by a German Jewish Scientist who had escaped the camps because of the way i thought. he didn't want another Red Skull or another Bully with that kind of Power. i was small, weak, and a sarcastic little shit but i was always defending other people so he picked me." he admitted. "i was one twenty soaking wet when i went in, and two fifty bone dry on my way out. it was pretty odd getting used to it." he admitted. "i still wake up sometimes, thinking i have to be careful of my scoliosis, or have to take it easy in case my asthma picks up. i still avoid spicy food in case the ulcers act up and... well, it's all habit i guess. habit that i do without thinking about because i've done it for so long that my body does it without thinking about it." he admitted. "i was, and i'm quoting Howard Stark here, 'like an angry Chihuahua chewing at the hems of pants'... i nearly punched him for that." and then he remembered he was big and could actually hurt someone and didn't.

"Tomato." Steve admitted. "a big pot of it. you can eat what you want." he promised, fidgeting before heading back to the kitchen, pausing long enough to make sure Bucky was following him. he quickly set out two bowls, ones with Iron Man faces inside of them, making Steve mutter about egotistical genius's with too much money and way, way too much time on their hands. muttering about 'where the hell did his blue pattern plates go?' he was distracted for about five minutes trying to find his normal plate-ware before giving up. Tony had clearly removed them from the kitchen, the asshole. he poured in a thick ladle full of soup for Bucky and for himself and settled down to watch Bucky eat.

"so, i'm not sure how well your going to take this, but i want to call a friend of mine for a doctor recommendation." he admitted. "i want someone to come in and give you a full team, who knows what kind of horrible things might be going on in your body after what Hydra put you through. you could have Scurvy for all we know!" Scurvy, malnutrition and other such things where fairly common during the great depression, the severe lack of food to go around meant that a lot of people suffered some pretty serious problems. because they couldn't see doctors, most of the time those problems turned into death.

"Let me call in a doctor. we'll have them join us here, or we'll go to Tony's Tower or something. i think you'd like Tony, he's not nearly as annoying as Howard was." he admitted. "i don't like the idea of you getting sick when a simple doctor visit could prevent it." he admitted, staring at Bucky, unable to help himself. he was worried about his best friend. he didn't want Bucky to get sick because those fucking Hydra bastards hadn't had the sense to take care of their best soldier.
 
He was surprised by Steve's reaction to the fact he'd been on a liquid diet. “I was never active long enough to require solid food. Sustenance through liquid protein and vitamin compounds were enough for me to finish my missions,” he said with a shrug. It was no big deal to him really. It hadn't mattered at the time. Weapons didn't need the luxuries most people were accustomed to.

“I like them. They're comfortable. I'm just not used to wearing stuff like this. If I didn't have my gear on then I was generally unclothed,” he said and looked to Steve. “I'm not... I'm not used to being with people. As a person. To them I was weapon. A... a thing. Not a person. And I didn't know I wasn't a person. When I got away,” he brushed his fingers through his wet hair, thinking on how to word what he wanted to say. “When I got away it was like... the longer I went without being wiped the more I realized I wasn't an it, I was a he,” he frowned and looked to Steve. “Does that make sense?” He shook his head, not sure if it did but he thought it might.

He sat in front of the bowl Steve hadn't and looked down at the red liquid. It was liquid but he was used to pure vitamins and proteins in liquid form. Not an actual food made for taste or whatever people ate this stuff for. He picked up the spoon and got some of the tomato soup into the spoon before lifted it to smell it and poked it with his tongue to give it a taste. He nodded and put the spoon in his mouth, he swallowed down the bit in his mouth then flicked his eyes towards Steve when the other man began to speak.

“I trust you,” he said once he'd finished talking. “I don't have scurvy. Or much going on inside of my body,” he said and began to stir the spoon slowly in the soup, watching the way it moved around the utensil. “They had to keep me in fighting shape. And whatever they did to me before you rescued me when I was with the 107th... it's what kept me alive after I fell. And it makes me heal faster. Keeps me from getting sick apparently too,” he shrugged. “I dunno much about it though, didn't ask. Didn't need to know,” he said with a quick arch of a brow then ate another bit of soup.

Bucky lifted his gaze again when Steve mentioned Howard Stark's name. He lowered his gaze quickly and took another mouthful of the soup before he cleared his throat. “I killed him. Howard,” he said quietly and set his spoon down, he leaned back in the seat, looking everywhere but at Steve. He swallowed and pursed his lips before he shifted and flicked his gaze quickly towards Steve.

He chewed at the inside of his lip for a moment. “You can call a doctor if you still want to. Or I can leave. I don't remember Howard, not really. Just bits and pieces sort of. From before. But I found some of my files. My assassinations. I remember some like I'm watching a movie. Like it's not actually my eyes I'm seeing it through,” he said and began to move the spoon through the soup again.
 
Steve felt the almost irresistible urge to smash something. he wanted to go into another room and tear it to shreds and scream until his hands where bloody and his throat hurt. Sam said that wasn't conductive to healing though and he was pretty sure that would scare Bucky so he struggled to keep himself calm and contained. how could they force Bucky on some sort of, of slime diet?! Bucky, HIS Bucky living off of what sounded like protein shakes and I.V's. that was not okay, not at all, he was going to be finding what remained of Hydra and he was going to make sure they never, ever became a threat ever again because if they ever got their hands on another person, if they came for Bucky or tried to make a new Winter Soldier, Steve would not be able to stop himself from snapping. it was hard enough keeping himself from screaming a people as it was. the twenty first century was entirely populated by assholes, dirty teenagers, foul language and nudity. Steve barely managed to work up the courage to watch TV sometimes, though he did like How it's Made and the history channel sometimes. there where times when he just hated the new century he had found himself in.

"they made you walk around naked?" Steve asked, shocked. had they sexually abused Bucky? how did he even ask without bringing up horrible memories?! god he was not good at this at all. "well you can wear whatever you want now. we'll go shopping once your ready and we'll get you a whole new wardrobe and some toiletries and anything else you need or want." he promised, frowning when he heard Bucky talking like he was a thing. well, he supposed that's all he was to Hydra. a thing, something to be used. "it makes sense." he promised the other, swallowing thickly. "it makes perfect sense. the longer your away, the more you remember. whatever they did to your head must be temporary for the most part." he mused. "but, that's a good thing right? it means you can choose to be the kind of person you want to be now. even if you don't know who or what that is yet, you have all the time you need to decide for yourself." control was something he doubted James had much of in the last seventy years. control over himself, options to choose from, decisions he could make on his own. maybe he'd feel better knowing that no one else could ever do that again. maybe. he still wasn't any good at this.

Steve had to bite back the urge to grin, the way Bucky tasted the soup before he stuck it in his mouth. like a little kid uncertain about the new food he was trying. still, Buck was eating the food and that was what mattered. it was real food, the first James had apparently eaten in years. how horrible was that? if there was one thing Steve did love about the modern era it was the lack of Polio and the eating options. he wasn't sure what Curry actually was, but he loved it. and those Chinese noddle things and the Greek salads and yogurts and just, everything. he made sure to go out at least once a week and find something new to eat. just a few days ago he had tried Sushi. he wasn't a fan but he'd tried it. maybe he could get Bucky to go with him next time and they'd try different soups, like egg drop, whatever that was, or Bouillabaisse, whatever that was. maybe sweet and sour soup? which sounded kind of gross and looked even worse if Steve was being honest. okay maybe they'd pass on the soup and see if they couldn't get Bucky eating more solid food before going out and trying new things.

"i'm sorry Bucky bit I really don't think your the best judge on how your body is doing right now. you just told me you've been living on an all liquid diet for upwards of at least three years, possibly seventy, and that you've been frozen repeatedly. i don't think Hydra cares if you where sick or not so long as the symptoms didn't stop you from fighting. you could have all kinds of weird things going wrong with you and they wouldn't care because they are evil, horrible, god awful bastards." he admitted, watching James. "besides, the Serum doesn't stop you from getting sick Bucky. it just hides the effects of it. i'm sick all the time, colds mostly because i still need to keep my immune system working. or something. i don't really understand how it works." he admitted. "just because you don't feel sick, doesn't mean that you aren't." he admitted. "the Doctor i go to, when i need one, Bruce Banner, he's the only guy i know with any real experience with the Serum. just don't poke him or anything, he tends to get... testy." he warned.

he studied the other, worried again. Bucky had killed Howard?! well Jesus. he was going to have all kinds of problems when he remembered who Howard was. "i'm calling a doctor." he assured Bucky. "you can't leave, not when i finally got you back. stay as long as you want to, as long as you need to. please?" he asked the other, reaching over and setting his hand over Bucky's, not gripping, he wasn't sure the other would appreciate being restrained even if that wasn't Steve's intention. "i know this is going to be hard for you James. i know this is a horrible thing to go through, but we can get through it, together. it wasn't your fualt that all those people died, not really. they turned you inside out, they erased everything inside of you that mattered and made you who you where. you didn't have a mind when you where with them, you didn't have the ability to tell right from wrong, or even know you could protest or fight back. your a victim too, and i want you to get the help you need, the help you deserve, okay?" he asked, hoping that Bucky wouldn't leave. Lord knew where the man might end up, on the streets? dead in a gutter? back in the hands of Hydra?! not gonna happen. at the same time, Steve didn't want to force Bucky to stay either.

"Eat your Soup." he ordered. "i'm going to call Tony. i can never remember Bruce's number." he admitted, punching in Tony's number manually because he hated trying to go into the contacts list. he never did it right and it took him a dozen tries. "Tony! Hey! no i wasn't kidnapped stop over reacting." Steve lied. "listen, i need a favor, can you give Bruce a call? i have a friend here who needs a complete physical. he's probably got like, Scurvy or something." he admitted. "oh, er, you want to know who it is? well, funny story that, see... i may have found Bucky. well, he found me-" even James could hear Tony's 'Are you out of your mind!?' Steve had to yank the phone away from his ear. "Tony, i'm not talking to you if your going to yell." he warned. "you know my ears are more sensitive than most." he complained, grinning a little when Tony immediately went a little softer in his voice. "come on Tony, he's my best friend, it's not his fault. your not stalking around blaming Barton for trying to kill all of us now are you?" he demanded. "...no i am not moving into the Tower just because i found Bucky, he's not a science project Tony i don't care how much you hate that his arm is not your technology. fine, fine, okay! Jesus Tony okay i'll ask him!" Steve said, yanking the phone away from his ear and pressing the bridge of his nose. "god i hate him when he hasn't slept, i'm getting a migraine. yes Tony, i know you heard that... Tony wants to know if you, and i'm quoting here 'want a totally more kickass metal arm of doom because that crap your using is totally uncool'... please, don't punch Tony in the face." he asked Bucky, looking both amused and exasperated. dealing with Tony was always a chore. he didn't know how the Agents did it twenty four seven.
 
Steve was right. Bucky wasn't the best judge of what was going on in his body but he didn't want to think about the possibility of being sick. He got pneumonia once after a mission, they'd been in the Arctic and an explosion has cracked the ice then Bucky'd fallen through. He hadn't said anything after pulling himself up and the Hydra agents only noticed when his bionic arm froze solid and malfunction. The mask had covered his blue lips and skin as he'd worked to complete the mission. By the time they'd returned to base his lungs had filled with fluid while his flesh fingers had turned white with frostbite. The pain... it felt as though it was going to end him. And they'd shoved a tube down his throat, it hurt too but not near as much as many other things he'd experienced. Bucky didn't like the idea of something like that happening again but as he looked across the table at Steve, he felt the blonde man wouldn't let it happen. “If you trust them it's okay,” Bucky put another spoonful of soup into his mouth rather then add what he was thinking which would have come out along the lines 'if he doesn't listen or hurts me I'll snap his neck in two'.

While the pneumonia wasn't really a sickness so much of a side-effect from an extreme circumstance Bucky had thought the serum kept him healthy but the IV he was given while with Hydra had been composed of immune system boosters along with large amounts of vitamins and proteins which is what kept him healthy.

He didn't recognize the name. He hadn't been too concerned with the other members of the Avengers. But he was new to this century, in a way. And Steve was better adjusted to a point. Bucky's eyes shot down to his hand when Steve covered it with his own and resisted the urge to pull away. Nobody touched him without the intent to hurt and it was a very strange sensation. “I'll stay,” he agreed. The way Steve said they'd get through this together and made him really believe. For so long he'd wanted to believe he could be something more than just the asset. A weapon. And now he did. Just because of a few words from an old friend he didn't remember. He wished he could talk as much as Steve was but it still felt so unnatural to speak so much.

Bucky ate a few more mouthfuls of soup as he watched Steve with the cellphone and listened to the, mostly, one-sided conversation. He perked up a bit at the idea of getting rid of his metal. “It's a part of Hydra. Yes,” he said quickly without much thought. The arm, to him, was an abomination. It was created by Hydra to enhance his abilities, make him deadlier. It was used to end so many lives the chance to get rid of it was just too good of an opportunity. It would be like a new beginning. The arm, something he felt kept him tied to Hydra was going to be replaced by something else. It felt as though a weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.

He finished about half of the soup when he decided he didn't want to risk anymore. His stomach was clenching uncomfortably already though he couldn't put it all on the food. The whole day was something he'd been building up towards. Confronting Steve and trying to get answers and yet here he was, in the other man's home and about to partake on a journey to try and find himself. He had a feeling Steve was going to need some help too. There was something behind the man's blue eyes which made a sensation of protectiveness swell inside of Buck.

--

A few hours later Bruce knocked at the door. “Hey Steve,” he said in way of greeting when the other opened the door and stepped into the small house and glanced around. He wasn't used to making house calls but given the circumstances, he couldn't refuse helping his friend and fellow Avenger. “Tony sounded excited to get to work on your friend's arm,” he offered with a slight smile. “Despite everything about him, you know the new arm will be the best anyone could create,” Bruce suggested.

He knew the relationship between Steve and Tony could be strained at times and he liked to try and keep the peace between the two. His eyes found Bucky quickly when they walked deeper into Steve's home and he gave the men a nod. “Hey. Bruce Banner. Guess you're the one who's been keeping our good ol'Captain busy running all over the globe hmm?” He asked and looked awkwardly at Steve when Bucky never moved or blinked at the comment. “Okay. Guess I should be used to dealing with this sorta stuff.” he said and set the case he had on the table and looked around. “You gonna be present for everything?” He asked, his brown eyes going back to Steve.

“Yes,” Bucky answered for him. It wasn't that he didn't trust the doctor. Well, yes, there was that. He didn't trust anyone. Including himself.

“Alright, not going to go too in depth today. We'll just do some blood and urine tests. Check blood pressure and reflexes,” Bruce said. “From there, if there's anything then we'll probably need medical equipment. Stark tower would be the best for that, if there is...” Bruce trailed off and realized he was beginning to ramble. “Kay, well. Have a seat and we'll go over some history,” he said and sat first at the kitchen table. Bucky came forward and sat down, keep a seat between himself and Bruce.

“Alright, so guess we'll start easy. Any medical conditions you're aware of?” He asked and grabbed some papers to get his notes started. He had files on all the Avengers now, having had to treat them all more than a few times by now.

“No.”

“Normal bowel movements?”

“No.”

“How are they abnormal?”

“I haven't... I don't eat,” Bucky said and stared into Bruce's eyes. “They gave me IV's and a liquid diet. I just had soup. Before you came.”

“Okay. So since you've been away from them, what have you eaten?” Bruce asked, shifting his glasses.

“Nothing. I drank... uhhh...”

“Meal replacements?” Bruce asked and shot Steve a concerned glance then looked back to Bucky who nodded with a shrug, unsure if that's what it was.

“Okay, is it okay if I take some... blood?” He asked, kind of nervous of to ask the other man that question.

Bucky nodded and presented his flesh arm. Bruce nodded and moved slowly, rolling up Bucky's sleeve and tying off the rubber band before easing the needle in and began filling the vials. He wanted to make sure he had enough to run... every test he could think of at this point. “What kind of soup did you eat?” He asked when switching a vial.

“Red... kind of orange?” He answered.

Bruce caught the laugh before it slipped out and glanced back at Steve. Once he had the answer he nodded. “Try broth. It'll be lighter, easier on his stomach. Maybe some cucumber or celery for solids. They're really just water so it'll be more getting him used to the idea of solid food without hurting the organs,” Bruce said. While it would be nice to tell Steve to take him out for a nice juicy steak, the sudden solid food could really hurt him. “Or puree stuff, veggies and whatnot,” Bruce suggested and pulled the band off when he got the final vial. He didn't want to say baby food even though that's what he was thinking.

He set the blood into the case carefully and clipped into a secure section. Every time he did something he would ask and show Bucky what he was doing before he did it and took his blood pressure. It was high but that wasn't surprising or concerning. He gave Bucky a little jar for urine and looked to Steve while the newest member of their little gang headed off to the bathroom.

“I can give you few IV's. If he doesn't handle the food too good he'll need something to keep himself going. By the look of him, he's lucky with whatever he's been drinking has been keeping him going but he'll crash and his organs could too,” he warned Steve. “Like you, when you don't eat enough and your body has nothing to burn,” he hadn't been around for that but he pushed it on Steve. His metabolism burned so fast it was a serious threat for Steve, his body could crash if he didn't eat enough and it was the same for Bucky but Bucky's stomach wasn't ready for the food Steve was used to.

He sorted through some papers. “I tried to find some of his files before the war but James' files, besides anything with Hydra, has been lost. Do you know if he was sick or had any conditions?” He asked. He knew how close they had been once.

Bucky returned and handed the jar to Bruce who set it in his bag with the blood. “Okay,” he set the IV's on the table and Bucky frowned. “These are basic, they're normally just for hydrating,” he said and grabbed a few vials to inject into the liquid filled bags, each bag getting the same treatment. “These'll help if you can't eat or start to feel really tired or weak. I just added some protein compound and vitamins. B, C, D... the basics. It'll just give your body a boost really. But if you need one, give me a...”

“I know how they go in,” he said and touched the back of his flesh hand, Bruce followed his gaze and nodded slowly.

“Okay, if you're comfortable with it go for it. But if you're not okay putting the needle in if you need it just give me a call. Whenever. Nobody matters more than my friends and you're important to Steve so,” he looked to Steve. “Whenever. Of if you're just worried about something then call,” he urged.

Bruce didn't know what these two were going through but he knew it couldn't be easy so he would do what he could to make it easier for them. The world wasn't being threatened at this moment so it wasn't like he had an extremely hectic schedule.

“Good. Well. Let's finish this up,” Bruce said and grabbed a stethoscope and a few other not too scary looking things from his bag. “Can you take your shirt off?” He asked, Bucky complied and sat on the table when Bruce motioned him too. Bruce's gaze was drawn to the scar tissue around the metal. It looked like it had been painful when they'd first done it. He checked Bucky's lungs, palpated the organs and muscles then his reflexes.

Once he was finished he told Bucky to redress and turned his attention back to Steve. “I won't know anything concrete till I get to the lab and test everything. But seriously Steve. Call for anything. There anything else you need while I'm here?” he asked, setting things away but not making any moves to leave. He didn't want Steve or Bucky to feel rushed but he didn't want Steve to feel alone in what he was taking on.
 
“I do trust him, yes.” Steve promised Bucky with a nod. “He's the same one who fixes me up when I get hurt or sick. And unfortunately for me, that's a lot. He's not like most doctors though so it's okay. He doesn't have that attitude you know? Most doctors, they seam to think they're better than other people, Bruce doesn't have that problem, he's really down to earth. A little timid though, we're working on that.” he admitted with a smile, watching the other eat for a moment, glad that Bucky was getting something into his system. He wasn't so sure that the heavy soup was going to stay down, but he'd get something out of it at least, right? He could only smile, and relax though he hadn't realized he'd tensed, when Bucky promised to stay. That was all Steve wanted, was a chance to make Bucky better. No, things could never be the way they used to be, both of them had changed entirely too much, but they could be friends again and Bucky could leave a mostly normal life, right? It might not be tomorrow, or a year from now, but someday, he and Bucky, they wouldn't be shattered anymore. They wouldn't be broken. They wouldn't be fixed, but they could at least function as normal people again. They could be happy, well adjusted, maybe even be able to walk down the street without wondering which person would attack them. As Tony always said though, 'it's not paranoia if they're really out to kill you.'

He nodded at Bucky and turned his attention to the phone. “it's a go. You can make him a new arm. Can you make it look... you know, not so robotic? I don't think Bucky likes it.” Steve admitted, watching Bucky. “How soon can you have it done?... no, Tony i'm pretty sure he doesn't want LED lights and a rocket launcher.... yes i'm sure... have you slept today?” he wondered at the scientist. “go take a nap Tony. Seriously, you sound ridiculous, why on earth would Bucky want lock picks, glue and a fan built into his fingers? He's not that Gadget man. Yes. I watched the shows and I regret every moment of it that I did.” Steve admitted with a sigh. “seriusly, Tony. Go to bed.” Steve ordered, lip twitching in an effort to, well either he was trying not to snarl or trying not to laugh, it was hard to tell at the moment. “yes, Tony. I'll let you come over sometime when James is feeling better and let you do measurements and strength tests and whatever else you need to make a properly functioning arm, no that is not permission to come over right now. Do I need to cal Bruce and tell him you need to be sedated again? I didn't think so. Go. To. Bed.” he ordered, trying to find the end call button before groaning. “he gives me headaches.”

~~**~~

“Hey Bruce, thanks for coming in.” Steve said, grinning as he wrapped an arm around the other man's shoulders in a quick hug. It was only a second or so, he knew Bruce didn't like being restrained so it was a handshake or a half a second hug and Steve preferred hugs. “Tony wanted to put rocket shooters, lasers and a LED Light show into the arm too. He's sleep deprived to the max again, you might want to stop by later and make sure he actually slept.” He admitted with a sigh before smiling. “He will make the best for Bucky though. He even mentioned that he might be able to make a-” he paused and scrunched his face up a little, trying to remember the word. “-Sympathetic skin? no... fake skin of some kind only he used a big word that I had to look up later.” he admitted before shaking his head when Bruce glanced at him. He wasn't sure what was going on in Bucky's head but he could guess that Bucky didn't want to get too close to Bruce in case Bruce turned out to be like the other doctors that he had likely been exposed to.

“Yeah. I'm going to be here. Just in case.” just in case Bruce stepped out of line, just in case Bucky snapped, Just in case something was really wrong. He nodded when Bruce told them what they would be doing. He would feel better if it was a full physical, but better to get an idea first right? He didn't really know how doctors worked anyway so he didn't have a clue. He swallowed thickly when he realized that Bucky hadn't even... god, did the man even pee? Did he ever get enough to drink that he needed to void waste? Did he even have enough time in-between freezes to take care of such things? Had the man done anything normal at all in the last seventy years? He stared at Bruce, waiting to be told the bad news but Bruce just went back to his check up. He watched Bucky very closely during the blood draw, just in case but nothing happened. Thank god.

“It was Tomato soup. We used to live off of it, during the depression when we where little because it prevented a lot of problems like scurvy and other nasty diseases that cropped up from living too close together with too little food. They where mostly cheep too so we could buy one when we needed something. Even if that's all we got.” He admitted. “I thought it might be good for him, nutrients you know? I didn't know he hadn't eaten anything solid in... in years.” Steve admitted to Bruce.

“Like Chicken stock?” Steve asked. “I have some of that, I can buy more when I go to the grocer.” Old habits died hard, Steve never called it a Store, it was always a Grocer when he was going for food. Puree?” Steve asked, his head tilted. “Okay. Fruits too or just vegetables?” He asked before nodding at the following orders. “I know how to do I.V's.” he promised Bruce. “We had to know, for the war, sometimes we couldn't get to a Med tent. So we'd carry all the stuff with us, me and James learned how to do everything while the others all learned Emergency.” He admitted. “i think they mixed him a cocktail. Sometimes, during the war, when there wasn't enough food, Howard would give me a select combination of...” Steve hesitated, cleared his throat and continued. “Of Drugs. Things that would amp up my system and keep me going until I could get to a meal. He also made sure the syringes where loaded with vitamins, minerals and proteins so that my system wouldn't collapse. Or something. It was a lot of big words that I didn't understand.” he admitted.

“...He used to have a degenerative eye disease.” Steve admitted. “When I pulled him out of that camp, where they'd been torturing him, or experimenting on him, he didn't have it anymore.” If that wasn't irony nothing was. The worlds best sniper had been going blind. “Other than that, worse he ever had was a cold or the occasional flu.” Steve explained. “we kept the eye disease a secrete because if the Army found out they would have discharged him. Ironic isn't it? The only reason I wanted to join the Army so bad was because Bucky had been drafted. Then, the only reason he stayed was because I couldn't leave.” He shook his head. “it was all a mess back then.”

“We'll call as soon as anything at all happens. Hell, we'll give you a call the first time he takes a shit.” Steve promised, smiling weakly at his piss poor attempt at a joke. He hated how helpless he felt right then. All he could do was sit and watch while someone else took care of his best friend. “That's okay. Thanks again Bruce.” He said, gently shaking the others hand before hesitating. “Painkillers and some tranquilizers.” He decided. “painkillers because that arm looks like hell and tranquilizers because I don't want to have to punch him out if he has a flashback or a relapse.”
 
Bruce wasn't exactly following protocol with Bucky. He was just going on a whim and trying to think of what would make the man comfortable and able to trust him. If he ever needed to put Bucky under he didn't need to deal with the Winter Soldier going postal while possibly bleeding to death or something. Bucky looked healthy enough. He didn't seem like he was sick, his body was strong. The results for the blood and urine tests would determine if he would need more tests. And if he did, it would go so much smoother if Bucky trusted him.

Bruce was worried there would be some sort of bacteria or damage to the internal organs with how little they had to work. But the tests would show that for him without being too invasive. “Eye disease,” Bruce repeated, nodding as he wrote that down.

Bucky was looking between the two of them as Steve spoke of the past him, clinging to each and every word. He'd been tortured? He didn't remember that. He didn't remember being experimented on either. But it must have done some sort of good since his eyes were great now. He tilted his head as Steve spoke about him being drafted then how he'd refused to leave the army because Steve couldn't. So he'd been willing to stay after being tortured or experimented on because of this guy. Guess it wasn't much of a surprise the other man had broken through years of Russian and Hydra work done to his brain.

“If you don't mind me asking,” he said, turning towards Bucky as he fished some painkillers and tranquillizers from his bag. “Do you remember anything from being with them?” He asked then looked quickly to Steve. “I mean, if you don't mind answering that is. It'll just gi-”

“The chair. I remember the chair,” Bucky said with a bit of a grimace on his face. “They used it to wipe me,” he said, not entirely sure what that meant.

“Electroshock therapy?” Bruce frowned, handing the stuff to Steve without looking at him and approached Bucky again. “They shocked your brain?”

Bucky looked towards Steve, unsure of what he was supposed to say or do right now, the doctor looked way to interested in that. And it was the one thing he remembered clearly. The sounds, the way it covered his face and he was strapped down and couldn't deny their commands. And the pain. He could handle pain. Lots of it. But the chair... it scared him.

As Bruce moved closer he stood from the chair quickly, knocking it over, and side stepped to get away from the approaching man. “I'm not talking about it,” he stated simply and the doctor stopped and nodded his head.

“Of course. I'm sorry. It's just, that practice, it's illegal because of what it can cause. The side effects can be very dangerous. We should do an MRI,” Bruce said and looked to Steve. An MRI was not something he could do here. “Sooner rather than later but... not today if you don't want to though,” he said after looking back towards Bucky who seemed to be becoming more distressed after mentioning the chair.

Bucky raked his fingers through his hair and his eyes were becoming unfocused, flicking randomly from one thing to another as he tried to keep his thoughts on track. Bruce took another step back. “Hey it's okay, we're not going to do anything you don't want and we won't talk about anything you're not ready for,” he said, using a voice he'd used for children when working off the grid.

Bucky only shook his head, running his hands over his face as he turned abruptly and walked out of the room. Bruce sighed as he glanced to Steve. “Sorry. I didn't mean to push him that far,” he said and took his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose, crinkling his nose as he though. “It's not good, if they used electricity on his brain, repeatedly,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Suppose when it comes to Hydra we shouldn't be surprised at what lengths they'll go to or how barbaric they're practices can be,” he mumbled, setting his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

Bruce shoved the rest of his things into his bag. “He's going to have to come in for an MRI Steve, if there's damage to the brain...” he swallowed and tried to think of a delicate way to say what he wanted but he had a feeling Steve wouldn't listen to even the worst scenario. “Just be careful with him. He's a grenade just waiting to go off,” Bruce warned. He knew the blonde cared for the ex-assassin but Bruce didn't know him and he cared for Steve, so he'd rather see Steve not hurt through any of this.

“I'll go see Tony and I'll make sure he keeps his distance for at least a few days, give your friend time to adjust to not being on the run and hunted and... just give him time,” Bruce offered with a small, friendly smile. “And if I find anything in the tests I'll give you call or drop some meds off,” he said and gave Steve's shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I'll see myself out, you got your hands full.”

--

Bucky'd walked to the bedroom and sat on the edge of Steve's bed. This was the only room besides the bathroom he'd been in. And the kitchen but that was too occupied right now. Bucky listened to them talking, he could hear every word thanks to his heightened sense of hearing.

He looked down at his bare feet and moved his toes against the floor, it was weird when he thought about it. How little of his own body he really knew. He didn't look at himself often and he was either in his gear or, while naked and being prodded at by doctors and medical staff, he wasn't looking at himself.

Bucky let his eyes fall shut as he listened to his breathing, it was something he'd realized calmed him down during the nights he spent alone. He felt aware of everything yet somehow everything disappeared. His eyes snapped open when he heard the doctor leaving the house and he glanced around then lowered his gaze towards the floor.

He didn't mean to go off like that but... he didn't want to think about what had led to it. It was gone yet it held so much control over him still. He knew Steve was going to come and find him so he just let himself fall back against the bed and was surprised at how soft it was. While on the run he'd mainly kept himself to warehouses hadn't been on a bed in... he couldn't remember when.

“I'm sorry I overreacted to your friend,” he said without looking towards the doorway. He could hear Steve's footsteps though they were almost silent. “I'm just not ready for that conversation,” he offered quietly, hoping Steve wouldn't take it any further.

Buck sat up and looked at Steve. “He's right though. I am a grenade. I came to you for help and...” his eyes drifted from Steve's blue eyes to his neck where he could see the bruises from his choke hold earlier. “And I attacked you instead of just asking for help. What kind of person does that?” He asked, frowning as his eyes sought Steve's once more.
 
Steve tensed a little when Bruce asked if Bucky remembered anything. He wasn't sure any of them where ready for this discussion. He knew that he hadn't wanted to talk about anything when he'd first woken up. He hadn't wanted to remember the crackle of the ice, or the pain of his back, broken from the crash, or the water creeping over him while his lungs burned for air. He shuddered violently and focused on his best friend again. Chair? Bucky remembered a chair? From the way the man said it, it wasn't the kind of chair Steve was thinking about.

“Wipe?” Steve asked, sounding rather faint. They had used this chair to erase Bucky. He would find it, he would let Bucky completely destroy it. That would help right? Letting Bucky completely decimate the thing that had hurt him so badly? If anything, he could have Tony go at it and maybe find a way to reverse damages or effects from it's use. He had a feeling Bucky wasn't the only one who had sat in that 'chair' and had themselves completely erased.

“Shock?” Steve managed to ask. Had they electrocuted Buck!? Those filthy bastards where going to wish they had never, ever been born!

“hey. Hey, Bucky. Easy. It's okay.” Steve promised, trying to be as soft and calm and gentle as possible when Bucky jumped to his feet. “Bruce isn't going to do anything.” he promised. “you don't have to talk about it.” he turned to Bruce, his voice a little more stern. “he doesn't have to talk about it.” Sam had always said that forcing people to talk when they weren't ready, was just as damaging as what had happened in the first place. It wouldn't help, ever and would, in the end, only make things so much worse. He didn't want Bucky to get worse. Of course, now he was really worried about side effects. Really worried.

“i'll have him at the tower in two weeks at the latest. Will that be okay or does it need to be sooner?” Steve asked, looking rather frantic to be honest. What if Bucky had a brain bleed? Or had scarring? or... other things that Steve didn't know about but where probably really bad? He grimaced when he realized Bucky was starting to panic and wondered how best to keep his best friend from having a flashback or worse. Steve had those sometimes, flashbacks, where he forgot who people where and where he was. He had nearly strangled Sam once because he was so convinced the man had been Zola. Which was why he was asking Bruce for the sedatives. He had donated pints upon galleons of blood for Bruce to work with to make medicine that worked with the Serum. Since his body processed normal drugs too fast to be of any use. Even Morphine had relatively no effect on Steve, other than making him sleepy for about an hour. When Steve got wrapped up in his memories, Sam just popped a tranquilizer into him and Steve dropped like a stone so he wouldn't accidentally hurt someone.

“It's okay. It's just too fresh for him right now. I understand you're worried. I'll make sure to keep a very close eye on him and call you if I see even the slightest thing that's odd.” he promised. “that... chair... whatever it is. It's clearly something that's lingered even when he can't even remember he's a person, let alone what his name is...” Steve admitted, shaking his head. “Hydra didn't care what damage they did to him. So long as he could do what they wanted him to. I'll make sure they never live to torment anther soul. I'll tear them apart bare handed if I have to. Disgusting bastards!” Steve hissed, flexing his fingers. “how could they do that to Bucky?” he wondered, biting his lip before looking up at Bruce.

“If there's damage to the brain then he might never recover beyond this. Or he might get worse.” Steve whispered. He knew enough about the brain to know that damage was, more often than not, permanent. “it doesn't matter. He's my best friend. I'll take care of him by myself if it comes down to it.” Steve said. “I won't abandon him. I can't.” he admitted, closing his eyes. “he never gave up on me, even when they said i'd never make it past year fourteen.” he stared at Bruce. “i would have died if Bucky hadn't kept me going. Now, I have to be there for him.”

“Bruce. I think your forgetting which of the people in this house recently tried to strangle Sam. It wasn't Bucky.” he pointed out. “he's not the only grenade around here. I know how to tiptoe.” mostly. He gave Bruce a small smile. “still, it's nice to know you won't try to mince the truth. Thanks for that at least.” he admitted. “i know you probably won't be able to fix any damage he has to the brain, but we should be able to manage most of what might happen right? Lot's of people have brain damage these days. There's all kinds of ways to help, medication and meditation and therapy and stuff... I'm going to do everything I can. I won't just give up just because he's a little more hurt than originally anticipated.” he ran a hand through his hair, aggravated because he was upset and hadn't managed to make it to the gym today. Hadn't burnt off his anxious energy, hadn't drained himself. Like a hyper chipmunk or something.

“Thanks Bruce. Really. Your a great friend and i'm really lucky to have you.” Steve admitted, smiling at him. “try not to smash Tony okay?” he asked with a smile, watching the other leave before taking a deep breath, trying to center himself. He had never really gotten the hang of that meditation crap.

Steve smiled at Bucky when he walked into the room. “Lesson One. It is never an 'over reaction'.” Sam had told him that often enough. “it's a panic attack. They can get bad. I nearly strangled Sam a few weeks ago because I was trapped in a memory.” he admitted. “i have real bad flashbacks sometimes, though they're getting a lot better.” he admitted. “i used to feel bad about 'over reacting' too until I realized that I just can't stop feeling panicked just because I want to.” he admitted before smiling at Bucky. “you where a man on the run, desperate for help and too scared to know who to turn to. That's all.” he admitted. “sure, you choked me a little bit, i've had worse you know.” he admitted, flopping down onto the bed next to James.

“you don't have to talk about it. Someday, when you are ready, then you can tell me anything you want me to know. Or you can tell Sam, or Bruce, or Tony. Whoever you trust enough to tell.” he admitted. “if your never ready, then that's okay too.” he admitted, looking at him. “all of us are Grenades Bucky. You think any of my friends, us so called 'superheros' aren't all fucked up in the head? Bruce has MPD, Tony is nearly schizophrenic and possibly Bi-Polar. Natasha as an emotional detachment disorder. Clint has OCD and Phil has an obsessive complex. We're all pretty fucked up. That's the point though, who best to help you with your problems, then people who actually understand because they have problems too?” he wondered with a smile. "I'm with you Bucky. till the end of the line. i swear it."
 
Bruce wanted to comfort Steve about the incident with Sam but from personal experience, he knew it wouldn't really change how Steve saw it. And there, in his opinion, was a massive difference between Bucky and Steve. Bucky had been groomed to murder, convinced it was his duty to end life. While Steve fought for good, fought to maintain that goodness in the world Hydra had been the opposite and used Bucky to do it. It may not have been by his choice but you don't just stop being brainwashed. He was curious as to what he'd find and worried as well but he would read up a bit more on Bucky Barnes and see if he could get an insight onto what had really happened to him before he became the weapon.

Bruce did as he said he would and saw himself out of the small house. Tony'd given him use of the jet to get to Washington as fast as he could and would head back to the Tower and make sure Tony got some sleep while he set to work on figuring out if Bucky was sick or not.

Bucky listened closely to Steve, he turned his head to look at him then laid back again so he was on equal level with the blonde. He turned his face to look up at the ceiling and let out a slow sigh as he pressed his lips together. “I know you're only trying to make me feel better but your friends are different than I am. They may have issues but.. they're not like this. They're... people,” he turned his face away, knowing that was wrong. “I mean, they know who they are. You know who you are, what you believe in. I'm just... I was empty until you woke something up. I have to rebuild a person from nothing,” he turned his head so he was facing Steve again.

“These memories, the feelings. I don't know how to handle them,” Bucky licked over his bottom lip as his eyes moved back towards Steve's. “Everyone out there, everyone. You, Bruce, Tony, Hydra agents, the milkman, you all have... you all know who you are but I have no clue,” he inhaled sharply and bit his lower lip.

“I read about myself at the museum and on the computer after all of Hydra's stuff got leaked but it doesn't make anything more clear. It only makes things more complicated cause I just want to remember. I just need a direction. Somewhere I'm supposed to go, something to aim towards. My life, all I can remember, is missions. And not in detail but just not having anything to try for is... it makes me wonder why I'm here. What's my purpose if there's nothing for me to do.”

Bucky wasn't suicidal. He didn't want to hurt himself but he was becoming more and more frustrated as he spoke. He felt he was becoming weaker as a person when all he wanted was structure and to just know who he was supposed to be. To have gone from so much surety to so much confusion and freedom of choice was taking it's toll.

“How do I come back from this?” he asked, running his hands, both metal and flesh, over his face. “Sometimes I wonder if it'd be easier to just go back to them and let them wipe me again. It would be easier. But I don't want that,” he whispered, dropping his hands to his sides then looked at Steve again. “I'm scared. I don't know what's going to happen,” he admitted.
 
Steve smiled at Bruce a little before he left. He knew this was hard for Bruce, it was hard for him too. He was pretty sure Tony was fretting himself nearly sick at Steve being alone with a known assassin. Steve knew Bucky though, he knew that his best friend wouldn't hurt him too bad, even then it would only be because of a nasty nightmare or a flashback. How could he blame Bucky for those when he had them himself? How could anyone blame Bucky for it when they didn't blame Steve? He knew the others where worried, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not really. Bucky was too important to be worried about the others worrying about him. Or something like that, he'd hurt his brain a bit on that one.

“Bucky, your a person too.” Steve promised him. “plenty of people have gone through things like you have. Natasha for example. She was trained from the age of six to be a ruthless assassin by the KGB. They're a Russian group I think.” he mused. “she's recovered very well, though she has her moments. “Natasha was just like you not so long ago. Clint and Ph...” he choked on the name and closed his eyes. A moment, gathering his composure. “Phil told me about how they'd found her, she was like a wild animal according to them.” he admitted.

“i have no doubt there are hundred of people that Hydra did this to Bucky. I'd have to ask Fury to be sure but I know we have at least five people who came back to us from Hydra, dead inside and not even knowing their names but desperate to stop being the mindless killers that Hydra made them into.” he looked at the other. “your not alone Buck, you have me. Once the others stop freaking out you'll have them too.” he promised. “we just need to have patience, you have to have patience. You won't be able to do everything at once you know.” he admitted. “you need to take your time, don't rush. The memories will come back with time and until then you can focusing on being the kind of person you want to be.”

He looked back up at the ceiling. “No one knows how to handle their emotions. Hell, I don't even know how to handle my emotions. Especially in this day and age. Everything is so different here that I never know what to do or how to do it or even where I fit in.” he looked at the other again. “no one knows who they are, your just a little more lost than most people are. As for your purpose, isn't living, learning, and figuring out who you are and how to be yourself purpose enough for now? If you really need a mission, then how about helping me save the world once and a while? I always did need a sidekick.” he teased, lips quirking into that little half grin he always wore when he was planning mischief.

“Don't even say that Buck!” Steve gasped, sitting up fast enough that a person might have gotten dizzy. “not even as a joke! Those people are monsters! They'll kill you on sight rather than risk you escaping again!” he shook his head and reached out, taking Bucky's hand as he often had when the other was terrified of his vision getting worse every day. Scared of being surrounded by hydra agents. Struggling to pay their rent in their crappy apartment not worth the money they where paying for it. holding the others hand the way Bucky used to when Steve was too sick to get out of bed, or crying because he had nearly burned down the kitchen, holding his hand while the doctor patched him up yet again because Steve couldn't stop himself and had gotten his ass kicked again. Holding his hand like they where back in a dirt ditch, trying desperately to stay quiet until the other Commandos could come and save them from the Hydra assholes sweeping the area for them.

“whatever happens Buck. It's you and me, okay?” he asked, smiling at the man. “you and me. Against the world if that's what it takes. We can't give up. Not on each other, not on ourselves, because for so long that's all we had. We can't give up Buck. Never give up.”
 
When Steve sat up as fast as he did Bucky was able to follow his movements easily and shook his head. “They won't. It wasn't the first time I left them,” Bucky admitted quietly, though he didn't completely remember the details of the excursion he'd taken. “I think. I mean, bits and pieces have come back. And there was one mission. I finished it and then... there was this place in the distance. I could see the Ferris Wheel, the outline of it. And I left. I was supposed to go back to the base but I couldn't. I just. There was something. And then I just stayed on Coney Island until they came and got me.”

He sat up slowly, his gaze looking over Steve's face, searching for any sign of familiarity. “It meant something didn't it? Coney Island. There something there that happened or it was important to us... before the war?” he asked, lost blue eyes searching Steve's.

He wanted to ask Steve about Phil. The way he choked up saying the man's name had a sensation bubbling in his chest he wasn't used to. He swallowed, trying to place it. He wanted to unburden Steve. Let him talk it out and get his emotions out. He wondered if Steve used to talk about him like that... with a lump in his throat. He'd say his name and have to take a moment to gather himself up.

He wasn't sure how to approach the subject so he just and shifted a bit, turning so he was facing more towards the other man. “Who was Phil?” He asked, the way Steve got choked up made him feel like the other was no long with them. Part of him even wanted to put his arms around Steve in a comforting fashion.

Bucky looked down to their hands when Steve held his and he turned their hands a bit. Watching how their skin looked side by side. It was another sensation he found a sense of enjoyment from. Skin to skin contact. He tried to think of the last time this had happened which didn't include some form of violence. His brain came up empty.

“Can you talk about times before the war?” he asked. Hoping it would jog some good memories. He wanted more good ones. Majority of them had been from his more recent trials as the Winter Soldier under Hydra then memories from James Barnes.

“All I remember... it's cold. I just remember cold and ice and fear and anger,” he sighed, turning his gaze away as he tried to put his thoughts into words to relay what he was feeling to Steve. “I just want to remember something happy,” he mumbled and let his gaze lock onto to Steve again. “I know you said I can't be him again and I understand that. But I was him... and I want to remember being good. Doing good and not being just a weapon.”

"You and me," he agreed, his lips curving into a bit of a smile though it felt weird. It had been so long since he smiled but Steve's words gave him a sense of confidence he could become more than just Hydra's discarded, broken weapon. "I won't," he shook his head, eyes searching Steve's. His body had an instinct in that moment. One he had not been prepared for. "You and me against the world... it's been like that before right?"

He wanted to ask something else but he wasn't sure how it would be received. And he wondered if he was getting... wrong instincts just because Steve was here and willing to help him.
 
Steve blinked, a little surprised that Hydra had let James wander off without punishing him with death. At least he didn't have to worry about them killing Bucky if they did get their hands on him again. Maybe. He could, would, go and rescue Bucky if he was captured again. He had to smile when Bucky mentioned the Ferris wheel. “yes. It meant a lot actually. We would sneak in, we couldn't really afford to do anything, we where too poor to afford food sometimes, but we'd go every week anyway and watch the people and the lights. Sometimes we'd even manage to steal some tickets, or sneak into the rides.” he admitted. “you once made me go on a Tilt-A-Whirl and I got really sick.” he admitted with a grin. “some of my best memories where of us just sitting around on Coney Island, eating stolen cotton candy ad hot dogs and watching people make fools of themselves.” he admitted. “there where even a few times, after you got your jobs, where we could actually afford to go legitimately.” he admitted. “but somehow, it was more fun when we where sneaking around and slipping people's goodies.” he admitted with an impish grin. That grin died when James asked who Phil was and he looked down at his hands.

“He was this guy, I didn't know him all that well but... He was an Agent with Shield, and he was a big Captain America fan. Agent Phil Coulson. The first time he met me, he mad this utterly dork of himself and it really made me think of myself when I was still small and scrawny and awkward. One of the first things he said was...” here Steve paused, letting out a snort. “he said 'I watched you while you where sleeping.” he snickered again. “it was the funniest damn thing.” he admitted. “he was one of those people who didn't get flustered, didn't stutter, didn't react and there he was acting all shy and cute and awkward because I was in the room.” he looked at Bucky. “we spent four hours, trying to teach me how to use an MP3 player.” he admitted. “i never did figure it out.” he admitted before shaking his head. “anyway, during the Chitauri invasion, you've heard about that right? Loki, the God of lies, chaos and trickery...” here he paused, lips twitching. “and lust according to some of the things i've found online, led the invasion and stabbed Phil through the chest. He died at the scene. He was carrying these vintage Captain America Cards. The ones that came out while I was still with the USO.” he swallowed thickly. “i never did get a chance to sign them for him.”

“times before the War?” he asked with a chuckle. “well let's see.... how to start? Oh I know! How about the day we first met?” he asked with a grin. “i was all around eight, I think.” he could understand Bucky wanting to remember something good. “you where around ten, or something like that, I was never very good with numbers. I was still really think and sick all the time back then, but I never could keep my mouth shut.” he admitted. “there was this bully at school see, and he was always picken on me. I always stood up to him, no matter how many times he broke my bones and pushed me around. Ne day, he got sick of me I guess. He came 'cross me in an alley and he just up and hauled me over the side of a dumpster because I told him to leave the little old lady he was muckin with alone. Next thing I know, i've a broken nose a split lip and i'm too short to get out of the dumpster.” he snorted. “not ten seconds later, you where in the dumpster too, you hit your head on the way down I think, or possibly before because you just up and decided that since I was in the dumpster you was gonna be too. We've been best friends ever since, 'specially since you had enough strength and fight in you to beat up people like The Butch.” he admitted. “you where always saving my ass.”

“that's right. You and me against the world, till the end of the line. You always used to say that to me when I was upset. Especially after me ma died.” he admitted. “we lived together in an apartment we could hardly afford. It was full of cockroaches and rats but it was a roof over our heads and two beds to sleep in at least. I was usually too sick and weak to work, so I tried to do the cooking and cleaning while you where off to work.” he admitted. “...i was really, really bad at it.” he admitted with a laugh, smiling at Bucky. “but we had each other, so it didn't matter.”
 
Listening to Steve speak of Cony Island almost brought a smile to his lips. But he couldn't smile. Not when Steve was grinning at such a memory but he couldn't remember a single thing about it. He just knew there was something there. Something important. And know he knew what it was but even with Steve talking about it. Some things in detail... he didn't remember and he hated it. He hated having been through things, having lived a life but there was nothing in his mind to link him to these events. Steve's words sounded like it was him and another person. Because he should talk and Bucky should see them there. But he couldn't. He hated Hydra for taking these moments from him.

And when Steve's grin fell from his face he regretted asking about this Phil Coulson but it would probably do Steve good to speak of him. The way he spoke, with such fondness made Bucky feel comfortable. It was nice to know Steve'd found friends in this time. Even though he couldn't remember much, if anything really, before the war. But there was a gnawing inside of him that drove him to want to protect Steve Rogers. Despite the man being Captain America, and having a better concoction of the serum running through his veins he still knew it was his job, no it was his duty and his obligation.

Bucky nodded his head slowly, looked at Steve as he spoke. “I wish I could remember these things. But I can't Steve. I just wish I could know what I'd been like. I want to remember being a good person. But all I can remember from before being the Winter Soldier was... The train and trying to grab your hand then I was falling. And then I was being dragged through the snow and my arm was missing. And then there's bits and pieces of getting the metal but that's all. That's the only bits I remember of who I was before I became this. And it's just fear and confusion and desperation,” he sighed quietly, closing his eyes as shook his head as he dropped it forward and bit his bottom lip.

“But I know you mean something important. When we were fighting. And you were telling me who I was. I was so scared cause they were going to hurt me again. They were going to put me in the chair for remembering and I hated you so much for doing that. For making me know I wasn't just a weapon. And then... then you said you were with me till the end of the line and I knew. I knew there was no way I could actually go through with it. I'd remembered and I knew my mission was going to fail again.”

He lifted his blue eyes to Steve's face and searched his eyes. “You were worth it. You were worth the risk of pain and the chair and being unmade again,” he whispered, his hand still in Steve's gripping Steve's hand tighter as he spoke. “I didn't know you but I knew I wasn't supposed to be hurting you. I knew I was meant to do the opposite even though I didn't remember who you were,” he frowned and swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat as he continued on.

Bucky stared at his face for a moment longer then looked away and took a few breathes to force his emotions into submission. “Did you figure out how to use an MP3 player?” He asked, he'd never used one before but he'd watched other agents use them. And he'd been trained to use the most modern types of computers and all types of vehicles.
 
Bucky didn't smile but Steve was. He loved talking about the old days, once he'd gotten over everyone's death anyway. Being able to talk about it was a new development if he was being honest. And then, to talk about Phil, Bucky was probably the only one who could ask without getting glared at. The pain was fresh still, Steve had never handled emotional pain well. Tony had helped with the loss of people from before he was frozen, Sam helped him with everything else. Especially Phil. Sam, Steve didn't know where he'd be without Sam. He was thankful no one else, not even Tony or Bruce, realized how close Steve had come to trying to figure out how to end a super soldier. Life had been too hard until the events that had lead to the discovery of Buck.

“I know you don't remember, and that's okay Bucky.” He promised the man before flinching at the reminder of Bucky's 'death'. “i never forgave myself for failing to save you.” He admitted softly. “It was made even worse after I crashed the plane and woke up. I realized, at the time, that if I had jumped off after you, I would have survived.” He admitted, watching Bucky close for any signs of real distress. It all seamed to be going mostly okay. “Fear.” Steve shuddered at that ad then shook his head. “we'll take you to some places we used to frequent. Most of them are old and run down and abandoned now but it might trigger a few memories. And i'll tell you all the stories you want to know.” he promised. “you'll remember in time Buck, you just have to be patient and not push yourself too hard.”

he blushed brightly when Bucky told him he was someone important and he fidgeted. It wasn't that he was ashamed, but, well. He was. Being... that way, had been a death sentence back then, and while it was much, much better now people still got into huge fusses over it. He shook his head, trying to focus. “Jesus...” Steve whispered, taking Bucky's hand again, holding him because he couldn't stand to let Bucky face that kind of trauma on his own. “i couldn't stand the idea of you not knowing me.” he admitted. “i couldn't stand the idea of having to kill you because 'there was no other choice'. I couldn't bring myself to... to hurt you permanently. I had nightmares, you know. About that plane, about choking you. For a good long while I thought you where dead all over again, drowned or bled to death or something. When Tony sent me a picture of you, I knew that it would be okay, someday.” he admitted with a smile before looking at him.

“you'll always be worth it, Bucky. Worth the pain, and trauma, and bad jokes. You where always full of bad jokes.” he admitted with a smile. “your worth everything to me. It took every ounce of control I had to punch you.” he admitted. “my whole life, it was you who was protecting me, even during the war. You where always there, at my back and b my side, protecting me.” he admitted. “and not just from people, but protecting me from myself too.” he admitted, smiling at Bucky before snorting and shook his head. “no. I just felt... weird, trying to figure it out without Phil there to help.” he admitted. “I have a CD collection instead.” he admitted. “and Tony loaded all of the songs I like into an MP3 for me. I don't use it much but i'll listen to it while i'm jogging sometimes.”
 
The smile on Steve's face made Buck feel comfortable. He didn't know how things were going to turn out but he had a gut feeling, just because of Steve's smile that things were going to be okay. Someday. And it seemed to relieve some pressure he'd been feeling. Another weight had come off of his shoulders as he watched him talk of the past. And just because things were so fucked up he had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow he had a feeling if he stayed with Steve, then it would end up being okay.

Bucky shook his head. “I couldn't reach you either,” he pointed out quietly and swallowed as he thought of that moment. It was one of the only things he could remember clearly from before and of course it was a bad memory. One that even caused Steve a shudder. “It wasn't your fault Steve. I got myself out onto that rail. I couldn't reach you and you had no way of knowing you'd survive. And even if you did know. I'd have hit the ground the first so it would have just been a waste of time, cause there was no way of knowing I'd survive it either. And I don't even know what sort of shape I was in when they found me,” he said and shrugged a shoulder. He didn't want Steve to feel upset about something which he'd had no control over.

The idea of going to places they used to frequent made him wonder if it would work. So much of his time lately had been spent focusing on destroying the people who'd done this to him he didn't know what would happen if they went to Coney Island or to the street they used to live on or anywhere else they'd gone when things were much less confusing.

He was curious about the way Steve blushed when he talked about how important he was. But he didn't know just how close they had been. He didn't remember any of those stolen kisses or touches. He didn't know what love felt like anymore and the concept was the most foreign of all. When Steve took his hand once more he looked down once more to look at their skin then looked to Steve's face. “I like it when you do that,” he commented, glancing at their hands. “I like feeling your skin,” he mumbled and let his thumb move across Steve's knuckle, watching and trying to understand the sensation he was feeling under his thumb. His hands were so used to the cold metal of weapons or causing pain. This was different and nice.

“You thought I was dead?” he asked, lifting his head to look at Steve. “I dragged you out of the water,” he said and looked down at their hands again. “I dunno why. Letting you drown would have completed the mission but I couldn't let you die. I didn't want you hurt. I'm sorry I ran. But you were breathing and I wasn't ready to face what was going to come after. Your friends and the public and all of that,” he shook his head. “And Hydra. They were looking for me too. They'd have found me and hurt you if I stayed.”

Bucky's brows furrowed in confusion when Steve said he was worth the pain and trauma. The words were... they made him feel good but they also sort of made him want to laugh. For so long he'd just been a weapon. A damn good one who did important work but to actually mean something to someone. It made the corners of his mouth turn up just a little bit. “Well I'm here now. Again. And everything in me is telling me to keep protecting you,” he said offered him a bit of a smile.

“Technology isn't that hard Stevie thing ju-” he stopped when he realized he'd call him Stevie. It had just slipped out and felt natural. “Sorry. I... That just slipped out,” he said and pulled his hand from Steve's when he felt a dull ache forming in the front of his head and he leaned forward and pressed both palms against his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut as the pain got more sharp. It always happened like this when he'd remember something. He could hear his voice in his head, he was cold again though.

“Oh god Stevie,” he sighed and his fingers were running through short blonde hair, his back was pressed against something solid and even though it was cold the hard body pressed against his front was giving off heat like a furnace. Lips were moving against his neck and snow was falling, the night was dark and he could see a fire off in the distance. He knew to keep his eyes open, locked in that direction.

One hand dropped from the blonde hair moved down to grope his ass, pulling their pelvis' closer harder together. His own head dipped and he nipped at the smooth, defined jaw. When the lips left his neck blue eyes flicked from the camp to Steve's face and he could feel a playful grin spreading upon his face. “We got a dangerous mission tomorrow Cap. Jumping on a moving train is kinda crazy so how about we go in a little deeper and pretend we're back in Brooklyn, protected by four walls?”

Bucky jumped up from the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. The pain was gone as quickly as it showed up. “You... we... We weren't just friends,” he said and looked at Steve. His eyes moistening with realization at how much he really had lost when he fell. He'd missed out on a life with Steve, even though it would have to be hidden and kept secret. And he'd nearly killed him, twice. The man he'd been in love with. “How can I not remember you?” he asked, more to himself than anybody as he dropped both hands to his side, feeling a little more defeated even though he'd just remembered something.
 
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