No (More) Vacancies
Bucky bit back a shiver as he removed his right glove and carefully pressed his hand against the glass of the window, nudging it to slide upward. He’d triple checked that he’d left it unlocked upon leaving, but he was thankful to see that hadn’t changed. Not that he’d expected it to, but the space wasn’t technically his, so he never knew when the landlord would make a surprise visit. Fortunately, that was a rare occurrence, which is exactly why he’d picked the place. The apartment building was considerably run-down and the staff were apathetic, which was extremely convenient, considering that he was inhabiting an empty unit without their knowledge. The water wasn’t exactly crystal clear and the walls seemed to be covered in a permanent layer of grime, but it was a roof over his head. That wasn’t anything to complain about, especially in the bitter middle of winter.
He was thankful that the weather made it easier to blend in and use his wardrobe to hide any unusual features without raising suspicion, but it always came with a chill he couldn’t quite shake until spring. He was used to it, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant when the titanium plates in his arm neared the temperature of the ice on the ground. He found himself once again wishing that Steve had chosen somewhere warmer to search for him. Brooklyn made sense though. A few lifetimes ago, it was home.
But did they have to move here in January? Bucky thought to himself as he silently climbed through the window. Fortunately, he could see just fine in the dark, so he didn’t bother with any lightswitches as he began his routine sweep of the space, checking the locks on any potential entry sites and ensuring that there were no other signs of life. Finding none, he crept into the windowless bedroom and slid the tattered backpack of his few belongings off his shoulder. Once his hands were free, he removed the knit beanie sitting atop his head and brought his fingers up to gently massage the base of the ears it had been camouflaging. He paused one last time to listen for any hint of unwanted company before cautiously pulling his tail up and over his waistband, freeing it from the confines of his pant leg. The relief was instantaneous.
The rest of the night passed quietly. Bucky sped through a few chapters of the latest book he’d picked out from the take-one-leave-one library down the street. Fortunately, some of the other patrons seemed to share his affinity for science fiction and there was usually something available that piqued his interest enough to borrow. It was nice to escape reality for a bit, even if he kept an ear trained on the door the whole time he read. Chapters flew by, killing time. Every once in a while, a word would jog some sense of familiarity that he hadn’t yet encountered and he’d write down anything he could remember in one of his notebooks. It was the closest thing Bucky had to a quiet evening, but even so, he had a hard time fully relaxing. Even after nearly a year, resting felt reckless. With his luck, the minute he let his guard down would be the minute that whatever threat was lurking on the horizon would happen to strike.
Bucky had his limits though, and he must have reached one because at some point, he nodded off. It was a blessing whenever the sleep came quietly. The nightmares made sure that he didn’t get a lot of shut-eye. He knew it wasn’t the best practice, but he did his best to stay awake as much as he could. Being asleep left him vulnerable, physically and mentally, a risk he preferred not to take more often than necessary. However, he found comfort in the fact that he was a very light sleeper, thanks to his freakishly enhanced hearing. That was a trait that came in handy more often than he’d admit.
Like the next morning, for example, when he woke to the sound of the landlord and a maintenance worker approaching from down the hall. Shit.
He didn’t wait to confirm that they were coming to his unit. Instantly, he sprang into action, grabbing his things and silently assuming his usual hiding spot on the fire escape. He left the window unlocked, but made sure to close the blinds to avoid drawing attention. Heart racing, he sat next to the window with his back to the bricks. His spot was just outside the sight line of the window, but close enough that he could hear through the thin glass.
Worst case scenario would have been being spotted. What actually happened though, was the second worst case scenario. Bucky only needed to hear the first few lines of conversation to know why they were there - to survey the space for necessary fixes before the next tennant arrived in one week. He stifled a groan and leaned his head back against the wall. His mind was already racing, calculating the possibilities for his next move. Obviously, he needed somewhere new to go. It wouldn’t be easy. Finding a vacant apartment anywhere in New York was like searching for the holy grail. He’d been unbelievably lucky to find this place after a week and a half of surveillance, and the thought of returning to the miserable cold until he found somewhere new filled him with dread. He racked his brain trying to remember any other possible locations.
Instead, he was reminded of another option that had been intermittently nagging at his mind. Maybe he didn’t have to stick around New York at all. It hardly felt like the home it was supposed to be. He hadn’t seriously considered going elsewhere, out of hesitance to leave Steve’s shadow. After all, Steve was the only thing he truly felt he knew from his life before, and he’d been clinging to that ever since that familiar voice shook something loose in his foggy head. But from what he’d seen, Steve seemed to be doing just fine on his own. Maybe it was time for both of them to let go.
The idea of finding his own path had come to him one evening when he was parked in front of a library computer, learning more information about Sam Wilson than he probably should have been able to find. Despite how out of place he felt in this decade, Bucky was quite proficient with technology. Hydra had made sure of that. He didn’t often employ those particular skills these days, but some part of him wondered just how much damage they might be able to do. He didn’t consider himself a vengeful person, and he certainly wasn’t eager to voluntarily engage in violent acts again, but he’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about making them pay for what they did to him. Aside from Steve, the only thing stopping him was the fact that they could incapacitate him with a few words if he were to waltz into the nearest base ready to fight. But physical interference didn’t have to be the only way. As he’d stared blankly at the monitor in front of him, it had dawned on him that there might be another less-confrontational way to cause some damage.
He’d toyed around with the idea a few times when he got particularly bored while monitoring Steve, but something always stopped him. He’d fallen into a bit of a routine in Brooklyn so the concept had been shelved. He thought maybe he’d get around to it when something changed. And here change was, knocking on his door with an unsolicited wake-up call.
The only problem was that Steve was still actively looking for him. Bucky chewed on that for a moment. If Steve kept searching to no avail, he might get desperate and do something stupid. Or worse, he might actually find Bucky.
A wild thought stopped him in his tracks: would it really be so bad if Steve did find him? Maybe he should–
No. Absolutely not.
But what if…?
At the very least, he could leave Steve a note. Just to let him know he’s ok and that he doesn’t need to keep searching. Coward, Bucky thought to himself. A note would be a total cop-out. No way things could go sideways, but also no way things could go right. Besides, Steve deserved more than that. Nobody asked him to go through hell to look for Bucky. The least Bucky could do was talk to him.
He couldn’t really consider that though, right? It was a ridiculous idea, but Bucky let himself entertain the thought for just a moment. Maybe he should pay them a visit. Just to let Steve know he was okay. Relatively okay, anyway. But who knew if they’d let him in? The thought alone had him on-edge for a few reasons. First, the last time Steve saw Bucky was on the helicarrier when he’d been one well-placed blow away from ending his life. Bucky hadn’t felt any urge to harm Steve since, but he couldn’t be sure that the Soldier’s programming wasn’t still in him, laying dormant somewhere. He also had no idea how Steve would react, given their last meeting. Second, if he wasn’t planning to stick around, would it really do Steve any good to see him again? To put it bluntly, Bucky was a mess. Definitely not the man Steve knew him as. Not anymore. And then of course, there was the fact that he now came with some freakish additions. If his history wasn’t enough to send Steve running, that most certainly would.
Bucky sighed. His thoughts shifted back and forth, waging war inside his head as he sat on the fire escape, even long after he’d heard the landlord leave. When he finally crept back inside, he found himself no closer to a decision. He clenched his fists, frustrated. As nice as it was to make his own choices, there was something simpler about calculating the next step when emotions weren’t involved. Sure, it was barbaric and cold, but simpler.
Eventually, he’d had enough. The choice wasn’t clear, but he still had a week to make it. So, he pushed aside any attempt at planning and instead set his focus to the day ahead. The watch on his right wrist told him that he had plenty of time to make it to catch Steve and Sam just after their usual morning run. It was Thursday, which meant that they’d likely stop in for a quick breakfast at the cafe closest to their apartment building before Sam set off for the group therapy session he led at the VA and Steve found somewhere quiet to bury himself once again in his search.
Bucky strode into the cafe about ten minutes before he expected them to arrive. He put on his best well-adjusted-adult-human expression and ordered a coffee. The caffeine wouldn’t do much for his metabolism, but the cup served as a necessary prop, allowing him to blend in seamlessly. He selected a perch toward the back corner, just out of view of the door. Steve and Sam usually chose a table with better escape routes. Bucky didn’t love that they stood between him and the exit, but at least the setup allowed for him to go unnoticed. It was easy to hide behind his hat and a pair of sunglasses, bury his nose in a book, and appear oblivious to the rest of the world while he listened very carefully. The key was to appear busy and unapproachable, paying full attention without looking like it.
As if on cue, he picked up on the voices he’d been waiting for. Sam and Steve walked through the door and approached the counter. As they placed their order, they were polite as always, but something was off. Bucky resisted the urge to look as he noticed that their tone, specifically Steve’s, didn’t seem as genuine as usual. Something was bothering him. What that something was became clear as soon as they took their seats and resumed their conversation.
“I just don’t think it’s the right time to give up, Sam,” Steve sighed into his coffee. “He’s still out there, I just know it.”
Oh, great. It’s about me. Bucky thought to himself as he kept his eyes trained on his book, turning the page though he hadn’t actually read any of it.
“All I’m saying is that we’ve been at this for almost a year. Don’t you think if he wanted to be found, we’d have found him already? Think about it. The guy is a master assassin, he knows how to hide.” Sam replied.
“But what if that’s not it? What if something happened or they got him back and he needs help?” Steve said quietly, keeping his voice low and his gaze on the table. “I can’t let that happen to him again.”
Oh. Bucky felt himself tense up at Steve’s worry-and-guilt-ridden tone. So this definitely warrants more than a note.
Sam, who, from what Bucky had gathered, seemed to share at least some of Steve’s insanely heroic nature, didn’t have a response to that. Instead, he simply said, “Okay.”
They stayed silent for a moment before picking up conversation on more mundane topics, leaving Bucky once again lost in his tangled thoughts. Every once in a while, he’d sneak a glance at Steve and each time, all he could see was the pain he was trying to mask behind jokes and sheepish smiles. Pain for Bucky.
That made Bucky feel incredibly guilty. It also made his decision for him. Well, at least part of his decision. He was going to see Steve. He could figure out the next step after the fact. He still had time to decide where to go, but he couldn’t let himself inflict this pain on Steve for another day. He’d decided that even before Sam and Steve left the café.
He strolled out the door not too long after them, his mind already forming a plan. Steve and Sam would likely not return home until that evening. They would be separated for the majority of the day, which could be an advantage, but that would involve a public meeting. Given the twinge of fear in Bucky’s stomach at that thought, he immediately rejected the idea. It was better to meet with Steve privately. So, the best bet would be to go directly to the apartment he shared with Sam. Bucky chuckled bitterly at the thought of himself casually knocking on the front door. Their apartment was significantly nicer than the one he’d been loitering in, so he’d be obviously out of place there. People remembered things that were out of place, so an alternative entrance would be preferred to minimize attention drawn. He thought more about their building. There was a fire escape that happened to be accessible from their living room window, and fortunately for Bucky, vice versa.
Again, Steve and Sam likely wouldn’t be home until the evening, but even then, it would be prudent to wait until most of the neighbors had gone to sleep. Being noticed by any bystanders was the last thing he wanted. Bucky ran through the details of his plan once more before deciding he was satisfied. With that, he discarded his cup from the café and set off to wander until nightfall. Hopefully, killing time wouldn’t be too grueling with all the nerves he had about seeing Steve.
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At long last, the time came. He’d stopped by his apartment to rest a bit and triple check that he hadn’t left anything behind, before starting toward Steve and Sam’s fire escape. With each step, he felt electrified, nervous in a way he usually didn’t get when it came to stealthy rendezvous missions. However, those missions weren’t usually this unpredictable. He scaled the fire escape nearly silently and with ease, and before he knew it, he’d reached his destination. He paused to take a deep breath and gather whatever shred of confidence he could find.
As Bucky reached toward the glass, prepared to tap his knuckles on it, clutching the beanie in his other hand, he caught sight of his reflection. Before he could resist, he locked eyes with it. Tired blue eyes stared back, their pupils wide and oddly-shaped like a cat’s. As far as he could tell, their color hadn’t changed, but something about their inhuman shape made the blue irises seem more striking, especially when the pupils narrowed to nothing more than slits. Bucky contemplated their strange appearance and tried to conjure a memory of what they had looked like before. Finding little success, he slowly shifted his gaze upward. Dark shoulder-length hair framed his face in messy waves, atop which sat a pair of pointed, fuzzy ears, identical in color to his hair, except for the small tufts of lighter hair and pink skin that covered the insides. As Bucky stared at them, he felt a small pit starting to open in his stomach as he thought more about the situation he currently found himself in. The ears lowered a bit, turning slightly outward as they sunk.
As if not to be upstaged, Bucky’s tail bristled against his leg. Once again, he found himself frustrated. The stupid thing had a mind of its own. And as if that wasn’t hard to control, the hair on it had an embarrassing tendency to poof up whenever he got too anxious or upset. Which, of course, was often. He’d stuffed the tail down a pant leg for this outing. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but that was something he could deal with. He knew all too well that there were things worse than discomfort. Still, ensuring that the appendage wasn’t visible came at the cost of being able to physically forget its presence. He reflected on his earliest days with it, which held many failed attempts at finding the most comfortable, yet effective way to hide it.
It hadn’t exactly been a gradual change for him. Instead, it had happened in the blink of an eye. One minute, he had been surrounded by bone-freezing cold as the world went dark, and the next he was shrouded in harsh light and commotion. Everything was too loud and bright and overwhelming, as if the world had been dialed up to 10 on all fronts. Alien sensations invaded his perception as parts of his scalp…shifted? He started to reach up to investigate, but found his wrist restrained. Everything felt wrong and confusing. Panic set in and he violently pulled his wrist upward. The restraint didn’t give. He repeated the action, ignoring the pain as he struggled desperately to free himself and get away from the blaring voices and blinding light. It was then that he became aware of something thrashing against his left leg. For a moment, he thought he was being attacked, until he realized that he could feel the other side of the thrashing, the sensation radiating upward, tethered to his spine. Forcing his eyes wide, he looked down and quickly fixed his eyes on the source of the feeling - something’s tail was touching him. It wasn’t right. Why could he feel it? Covered in brown fur, it clearly belonged to an animal, yet it seemed to be attached to him, right at the base of his tailbone. At least, that’s where the new sensation stopped. Confused, he tested something, willing the tail to move. It responded. All remaining grogginess fled his body in an instant. A scream left his lips as he thrusted upward with his right wrist again. Pain bloomed as something snapped. He wasn’t sure if it was his wrist or the restraint. Maybe both. The pain found a new home in his left shoulder as he repeated the action with his metal wrist. This time, the source of the snap was clear. He registered bodies in front of him and violently shoved them away as he leapt to his feet, ready to run. But before he could take the first step, there was a stinging sensation in the side of his neck. The world faded away to the sound of his head hitting the unforgiving floor.
Bucky came back to himself then, pulled from the memory to where he was standing. On Steve Rogers’ fire escape. Looking like an idiot, with his clawed hand stretched out to tap on the glass as if it were 1928 and he was sneaking over to read with Steve after curfew. He suddenly felt colossally stupid. When he had first seen himself like this, he had promptly freaked the fuck out. His hand snapped back to his side and he took a step back from the window. Steve couldn’t see him like this. He may be looking for Bucky, but no one was looking for this. If he wanted to be anywhere near Steve again, he’d have to look like the Bucky that Steve knew, not the monster that had taken that man’s place.
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Thank you so much for reading! Check out this art made for this chapter by @thatartistaj on instagram
