Steve knew that when he found Bucky, the real Bucky, it wouldn’t be the same. He didn’t know what he expected, but a tiny bit of him had hoped that when the man he used to know, the man he loved, looked at him in realization, he’d see something in his eyes that told him he felt the same way back. It didn’t happen how he thought it would. It never happened how he thought it would.
‘Steve.’ The name fell from Bucky’s lips softly, gracefully, his tone soft and meaningful, and Steve had to bite his tongue when tears sprang into his eyes. They were in the kitchen of Sam’s house; he was away and had offered the space for privacy. The dimly-lit kitchen had faded away and all Steve could focus on was how familiar Bucky’s eyes were, how familiar the line was at the corner of his mouth, almost shaking, how familiar that lull in his voice was when he talked to someone he loved. And the ache in Steve’s heart told him how much he had missed it, how much it had done to him going without that certainty that he had someone he had always known, someone he had always loved.
‘Hey, Buck.’ His voice broke slightly, his eyes burning, his throat tight. ‘You’re back.’
Bucky’s eyes were wild for a second, darting between Steve’s, then around the room. When his blue eyes went back to Steve’s, they were filling with tears.
‘You –’ his eyes had become overwhelmed with fear, growing bigger as memories were flooding him. He stood up like the wooden chair he was sitting on was on fire, backing away so fast he knocked the glass on the side of the bench behind him to the floor. The sound of the shatter against the tiles only served to fill the silence as the two men stared at each other.
‘You – I remember –’ Bucky’s hands were shaking as they clenched into fists, tears threatening to spill from his eyes with the next blink – ‘I was dead. I should be dead –’
‘No, no, no, Buck.’ Steve’s voice was filled with a calmness that betrayed the crippling fear he was pushing down inside. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘I – I did all that.’ Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s and Steve thought, for a terrifying second, that he had lost him again. And that nearly stopped his ability to talk. But, somehow, he managed to twist his tongue around his mouth and take a breath long enough to say, ‘they did this to you.’
‘But it was me.’ Bucky was shaking, and he ran a hand through his stubble before wiping at his eyes. When Steve’s eyes flashed to Bucky’s unsteady hands, he realized with a start that his hands were shaking, too, tremors running through his whole body at the sight of Bucky so broken. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming, and Steve had been drowning, drowning for so long without Bucky that he had grown used to the waves that crashed over him with every rattling breath. And now that he had had a taste of what it was like to have Bucky back, he wanted nothing more than to break through the surface and take a breath, not drowning anymore, breathing. Finally.
‘Buck. You didn’t do this.’
But Bucky wasn’t listening, he was too far gone in his head. His eyes were almost the same as before, what he had been, what he thought he still was. ‘But I did all that. I tried . . .’ his eyes were haunted, his voice barely there, ‘I tried to kill you.’ And this time, Steve watched, his heart breaking as the man he loved, the man who had put him back together so many times before, fell apart completely, crying as he sank down against the kitchen bench and to the floor, curling up, trembling as his broken sobs echoed through the empty house.
‘Buck.’ And Steve found he couldn’t keep it together either, and as he tentatively approached Bucky, he thought that maybe this was good, maybe this is what they both needed, to break so they could put themselves back together. ‘It’s not your fault.’ Steve’s voice was unrecognisable, breaking at every vowel, as his arms wrapped around Bucky’s back to his chest, not afraid to hold him as tightly as he could because he knew Bucky couldn’t break any more than he already had. And they stayed there on the floor, tears staining skin, hot blood pulsing through veins as both drumming hearts started to beat at the same rhythm. They weren’t sure how long later, but at some point both of them had run out of tears, run out of breath, and the silence of the cold night had given them a reason to stay there, to not disturb the atmosphere. The cool metal of Bucky’s left arm was pressed into Steve’s chest, and Steve thought that maybe that’s the part that’d always remind Bucky of what they had made him, what he thought he was, so, he lowered his lips to his reflection and, after seeing his warm breath fog the clarity of his image, he kissed Bucky’s arm softly. He felt Bucky tense up at this, a sharp intake of breath before he turned around, shifting his body so the two were facing, his eyes wide and searching as they watched Steve.
‘It’s not . . . It wasn’t meant,’ Bucky took a slow breath and Steve cold see how hard it was to get the words out. ‘Wasn’t meant to be loved.’ Bucky’s eyes wandered to the floor. ‘It was meant to be feared.’
‘You weren’t meant to be feared.’ Steve made his words deliberate, made his gaze meaningful enough so Bucky’s eyes lifted back up to his, the tiniest sparkle of his old self there. Not enough for Bucky to feel yet, but enough for Steve to see.
They stayed there until the moon became hidden by the pale clouds in the dark sky, and then, without words, Steve slowly helped Bucky up, metal fingers tangled in warm skin as they found their way to the spare room, collapsing on the bed. In the morning, Steve would wake to find Bucky muttering, his eyebrows knitted together as demons chased him in his sleep. When he woke up, Bucky would find the voices echoing in his head fading as he looked at the man next to him. Later on, they’d find the will to get up, to eat and shower and do all the things that made them feel normal. Later on, they’d find the strength to talk about everything from where they began to where they were now. And even later, Steve would find the courage to tell Bucky what he meant to him, how much he needed him, how much he loved him. And even later than that, when Bucky was less broken, he’d be able to do the same.