There is no pain in the world greater than losing half your soul. It's like breathing without air or living without a body, trapped in an eternal state of desire and desperation that is never assuaged. The Winter Soldier knows this better than anyone. He had to live with that pain for over seventy years, more often than not unable to even put a name to the deep-seated grief trying to burn a hole through his chest. No matter what HYDRA did to him, no matter how much their needles and knives had hurt, the pain they'd inflicted never once came close to matching the horrible aching need for his other half that clung, ever-present, to his heart. Even when he didn't remember his own name, when he was a blank slate with nothing left of himself to hold onto, that ache had been there. It stuck in his mind, the faintest breath of a memory that they had taken away long ago, the ghost of a ghost haunting him day and night. A reminder of all that he had lost. Of what he'd thought he could never get back in a million years.
Sometimes, in the days after HYDRA's fall, he wonders if that's how they broke him in the first place.
But now, for the first time in longer than he can clearly remember, Bucky finally feels whole again. Even though he can't sleep through the night without waking up screaming, he know that Steve will be there when he comes back to reality. And on the good nights--the nights when he manages to come back to wakefulness silently--it's enough just to watch Steve's peacefully sleeping face and know that he's okay. That they're safe.
But most nights are not good nights. Especially during the first few months after the Winter Soldier finds his way back to Captain America, when they're just trying to remember how to be Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes again, the nightmares are so horribly vivid that they blur the fragile line of reality separating Bucky from his sins. And although they began to fade slightly after a little while, that doesn't stop them from being just as terrifying. Because they are real. Just because they're in the past doesn't make them any less so.
One thing that Bucky quickly learns is that good days don't equal peaceful nights. It's after a particularly good day that he has one of his worst nightmares in months.
"Bucky?" Steve stands before him on a vast battlefield, the only man still standing amid a sea of rotting bodies. He's holding his shield out in front of him, tilted slightly to one side as if he's half forgotten it's even there. There's blood on his uniform, soaking the red white and blue. It drips down from two circular wounds in his chest, the thick scarlet liquid leaving long streaks down his chest and stomach. As Bucky watches, horrified, unable to move from where he stands, Steve falls to his knees. His shield falls beside him, settling with a dull thud in the muddy grass. "Buck, please..."
"Steve," Bucky tries to say, but no sound comes out. Slowly, painfully, he manages to move toward his fallen friend, reaching out for him as he repeats his name like a mantra in his head. He's almost there, so close, and then he can help, can save him...
But when Bucky is finally close enough to touch him, Steve pulls back as if stung. His blue eyes are hot and defiant as he looks up at Bucky, silently daring him to come closer. "You did this to me," he chokes out, and suddenly the blood is everywhere, dripping from his mouth and spattering down his chin. "How could you do this to me, Buck? Why?" The pain in his voice cuts Bucky soul to shreds.
"Steve," Bucky says. His voice shakes almost as much as his hands. "Stay with me."
"I can't." Steve bows his head, baring bloodstained teeth. His face begins to change, to morph, like a spider molting an old skin. When he lifts his head again, he's not Steve anymore. "I was never with you." Alexander Pierce smiles up at him mockingly with bloodstained lips.
Bucky turns and runs, the battlefield blurring around him. He runs until his entire body hurts and he can't take another step, until his heart is bursting and his throat is full of blood breathed out of damaged lungs. He falls to his knees, puts his head in his hands. Closes his eyes. But even then he can hear them, see them, screaming and crying out at him in the darkness of his own mind. All the people he killed, thirsting for vengeance. They scream and he screams with them, the sounds blending into a single long note of agonized despair...
"Bucky!" Steve's voice cuts through the darkness like a heated knife through butter. There are hands on Bucky's shoulders, on his face, anchoring him as he fights his way back to wakefulness. "Buck, I'm here. It's okay, you're okay. I've got you."
Bucky opens his eyes and finds himself face-to-face with Steve. It's only then that he realizes he's screaming, the horrible, pained sound ripping through his throat and filling their bedroom. He cuts himself off immediately, feeling a flash of shame that he's woken Steve up again. But that is quickly chased away by a wave of nausea and disgust as the dream comes back to him in full detail. Jerking out of Steve's grip, he backs up against the headboard of their bed and presses himself against it, his shoulder blades digging into the hard wood. He's shaking, he can feel the tremors rolling through him in waves, and there's a metallic taste on his tongue. His heart-rate is almost a single blur of sound. His breath comes in short, shallow gasps.
"Bucky, listen to me." Steve moves toward him, reaches out. "I want you to give me your hand, okay?"
Bucky opens his eyes, turning to meet Steve's gaze with panic scorching in his veins. Slowly, hesitantly, he obeys. Steve catches Bucky's flesh-and-blood hand between two of his own. The blonde squeezes gently, his thumbs digging into the pressure point in Bucky's wrist. "This is real," Steve says, his tone calm and measured. Bucky feels a little bit of the tension melt out of his body, followed by an overwhelming wave of gratitude. "I'm real. You're safe. We're in Stark Tower. HYDRA's gone. We're safe."
Bucky nods, tucking his head and closing his eyes. He feels Steve shift closer and moves toward him, leaning into the other man's gentle touch. Steve wraps his arms around him and breaths in, slowly, deliberately. His heartbeat is strong and slow against Bucky's chest. "Thank you," he whispers, almost to quiet for Steve to hear.
Steve laughs. The sound vibrates through his chest like a cat's purr. "Anything for you, Buck."
After what feels like an hour--but is still too short a time--Bucky pulls back, disentangling himself from Steve's arms. He raises his head so that his lips are inches from Steve's, their breaths mingling like blood in water. Bucky reaches up and cups his metal hand around the back of Steve's neck. Steve reciprocates by bringing a hand up to fit against Bucky's cheek, the other still squeezing Bucky's right hand. It's that feeling that keeps Bucky sane, he thinks, that pressure that acts like an anchor to reality. A reminder of everything he'd thought he'd lost but found again, against all odds. Suddenly desperate, Bucky leans in and presses their lips together. Steve smiles into the kiss. He tastes like he always does: like fire and light; like a thousand fiery shades of emotion blended by an immortal artist on a canvas of gold. Bucky loves every second of it.
When they break apart, Steve is still smiling. And strangely enough, Bucky is too. The panic is fading, leaving behind a feeling of warmth and safety. "Better?" Steve asks, and Bucky nods. "Good." They settle back down onto the bed, side by side with Bucky's head tucked against Steve's shoulder and his arm thrown lazily across Steve's chest.
"I love you," Bucky mumbles against Steve's neck. He's still getting used to being able to say that aloud. It's one of the nicest things about life these days.
"I know," Steve says, and Bucky knees him in the hip. Steve yelps and then laughs, a deep rumble of satisfaction.
"That's it," Bucky injects as much irritation into his tone as he can muster. His eyes are once again beginning to drift shut. "I'm not lettin' you watch any more movies with Stark."
"C'mon, Buck! Star Wars is mandatory viewing for anyone. Do you want me to be uncultured?"
Bucky smiles despite himself, pressing himself closer to Steve's overly warm body. "Shuddup and let me sleep, Rogers."
"G'night," Steve says. He pulls the sheets to cover them, tilting his head until his chin rests against the top of Bucky's head. After a few minutes, he adds in a whisper, "I love you, too, Buck."
Bucky smiles into Steve's shoulder. His eyes drift shut. The last of the panic fades.
He has his other half back, and together they're unbreakable. Together, they could take on the world.