“You know you don’t have to do this, right? I can go in instead.”
Sam’s skin glowed slightly, tinged with red in the light of the “Hex”- the energy barrier surrounding Westview, New Jersey. A small woman with a sharp tongue- Dr. Darcy Lewis, as she immediately introduced herself- had coined the term during her work on the Westview Phenomenon. Both were better ideas than Bucky would have been able to come up with- he’d never been much for words.
Bucky shrugged. “Nah, I should go. Rambeau said the barrier does weird things to your body. I can probably handle it better than you.”
“Hey, I can handle anything you can, Barnes,” Sam replied, his usual acrid wit mellowed slightly by the note of real concern in his voice. “But she also said the citizens were being mind controlled. She felt it herself. You don’t have to put yourself through that.”
In any other circumstance, Bucky would be biting back, some kind of sarcastic retort, anything to diffuse the tension of the situation. But Bucky would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about that. He wasn’t keen on anyone poking around in his head anymore, not even Wanda, who he liked just fine. But Sam couldn’t go through the barrier.
Rewritten, Captain Rambeau said. Every atom rewritten. Anything that passed, entirely recreated, rearranged, reassembled by Wanda. To fit her exact specifications. Bucky had been rewritten enough times to know what that did to a person. He didn’t want that for Sam. He liked Sam just fine exactly the way he was already assembled.
Bucky scratched the back of his neck, fingers rubbing over the short strands. “I’m worried about it,” he admitted. “But I think there’s something else going on here too. You knew Maximoff better than me.”
“Clearly, since you still call her Maximoff.”
“I still call you Wilson.”
Sam conceded the point.
“But anyway, from what I know about her, this doesn’t seem like something she would do. Do you think so?” Bucky asked.
Sam’s brow furrowed, expression thoughtful. “No. It’s been bothering me ever since we got the call. Anyone can snap, I guess, but…”
“There’s an outside source,” Bucky interrupted as Sam trailed off. “This isn’t Wanda. At least not all of it.”
“You sound real certain,” Sam commented.
“I am certain.” And he was. Bucky never considered himself the smartest of guys- he did fine in school, but never really excelled. But he trusted his gut, and his gut was telling him that Wanda was under some kind of control.
“You think you can get through to her?” Sam asked.
“I do. I’ve been there. At least I’ll know what to look for.”
Sam’s jaw clenched, just slightly, but Bucky picked up on it. His dark eyes moved to Bucky’s face, then away again. Bucky stayed quiet. He’d learned to read Sam over the last year, read even the smallest expression that came across the man’s face. Sam was a strong man, and a confident one, and he’d learned to tailor his expressions and reactions to fit that image over the years. So Bucky often had to dig a little to find out what Sam was really thinking.
Right now, Sam was having an internal debate. Bucky let him fight it out. Finally, Sam’s shoulders slumped just slightly, and Bucky knew what he was going to say before he said it.
“I think you’re right.”
Bucky grinned. “Say that again.”
“No.”
“Come on. Say it again.”
“Shut your goddamn mouth, Barnes,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow. But even his harsh expression couldn’t contain the fondness in his eyes.
“Why don’t you make me?”
Sam’s eyes darkened, and he swallowed. “You’re a bit of a tease, you know.”
“Good. It's all part of my air of mystery,” Bucky said drily, and Sam laughed.
This was… new. Not the flirting. The flirting had always been there, to some extent, only increasing when they started working together more closely. Bucky and Sam had the same dry humor, and combine that with the chemistry that they had… well, flirting was always going to happen.
But now Bucky knew that Sam wasn’t all talk. That was new.
They weren’t together. Not really, or at least they hadn’t talked about it. Bucky didn’t know how to bring up that conversation to begin with, so he let it lie. It happened the first time after a mission. They’d both been yelling at each other for taking stupid risks, as per usual, and without realizing it Bucky had drawn close to Sam, only a few inches separating them. It was Sam who went in for the kiss, heated and angry and full of pent up emotion. One thing led to another, and now they were hooking up on a semi regular basis.
But it was fun. Fumbling in closets at work like teenagers made Bucky feel like his old self again, and blowing off some steam, pun intended, with Sam was quickly becoming Bucky’s favorite thing to do.
Sam sobered quickly, though, and he moved to stand next to Bucky, looking out at the Hex.
“Just be careful.”
Sam’s tone was low, sincere, and it made Bucky’s head spin. The fact that Sam cared about him and his well being was something he still had trouble reconciling in his mind. He nodded in agreement, pressing just slightly closer to Sam, letting their arms rest against each other. The breath of relief Sam let out was slight, but Bucky noticed.
He always noticed.
***
This rewriting was… different. Getting into the Hex was difficult. Rambeau and Agent Woo had said that she was sucked in, as though the town was welcoming her. Bucky, on the other hand, felt like the town was keeping him out. But he fought through, even though it felt like his muscles and his skin and his bones were being ripped apart.
Despite his best efforts, he fell to his knees when he reached the other side of the barrier, breathing heavily. He didn’t know how this sitcom of Wanda’s worked, but he hoped that this wasn’t being broadcast. Sam would have a field day.
After a moment, he was able to get to his feet, though his legs felt wobbly. He was astounded by the power that the barrier itself held. Ever since he became the Winter Soldier, he couldn’t remember a time when he felt physically weak.
Bucky looked down at himself as he took a step, the fabrics feeling different against his skin. He frowned. His usual gear had been changed, pants into loose jeans, top into a flannel and jean jacket. If all the denim wasn’t enough to tip him off, his gun holster had been changed into a fanny pack. Bucky groaned. Of course he’d come in the 80s.
He felt naked without his gun, but it made sense that Wanda wouldn’t allow weapons into Westview. So he started walking.
He was on the outskirts of the town, and he was immediately creeped the hell out. Everyone that they’d seen in the broadcast seemed… not normal, but functioning. He hadn’t thought about what would happen to those who weren’t included. Apparently, what happened was a reduction to base functions. People on the outskirts moved repetitively, kids bouncing a ball without moving a muscle other than their arms, a woman hanging up the same clothesline over and over. Bucky wanted to help, but there was nothing he could do on an individual level. The only chance these people had was for him to convince Wanda to let them go.
The closer he got to the center of the town, the more lively and accurate things became. People moved correctly, talked among themselves, but there was still something off and eerie about them. They felt like actors on a set, but all involved in very very deep method acting. Which he supposed they were, in many ways.
It was difficult to tell time in Westview, but Bucky thought that he walked for about an hour before he finally spotted Wanda.
The Sokovian woman looked happy. Her hair was frizzed and curled, and she was walking hand in hand with Vision. Bucky wouldn’t have recognized the android in his human form if he hadn’t seen it on the television. Two children ran in front of them- the twins that Rambeau helped Wanda deliver. How the hell were they already this old? It had only been two days.
Wanda spotted him. Her smile didn’t fade as they made eye contact- on the contrary, it widened. She waved him over enthusiastically, and Bucky complied, albeit warily.
“Bucky!” she called warmly, laying a hand on his arm. His every instinct told him to toss it off, but he restrained himself. If she was happy to see him, he didn’t want to blow that good feeling just yet.
“Wanda,” he greeted, eyes darting around the happy family picture in front of him.
“Who’s this, darling?” Vision asked, a friendly expression on his face. Bucky frowned. Vision didn’t remember him?
“This is Bucky, Vis. He’s an old friend. He’s in town visiting.” The explanation flowed smoothly from Wanda’s mouth, and Bucky found himself wanting to follow what she said.
“Yeah, just passing through. Thought I’d stop and see how things were going,” he said.
A puzzled expression flashed on Vision’s face, but with a look from Wanda it was gone.
“Vis, how about you take the kids for a bit? I want to catch up with Bucky.”
Vision agreed, and they parted with a kiss. Bucky watched him and the children leave, feeling a sinking in his stomach. Something was very, very wrong here.
Wanda looped her arm through his, leading him down a street, away from the crowd, Bucky stiffened slightly.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Wanda said. Her accent was gone, Bucky noted for the first time. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Really? Your barrier seemed pretty determined to keep me out.”
Wanda sighed. “I’m sorry about that, really. If people would just leave us alone, I wouldn’t have to make it so difficult to get in. But you’ve seen what’s out there. You’ve seen what they want to do to us.”
Her face darkened, and Bucky nearly shivered. Then the storm cleared.
“But I really am happy to see you. And I won’t be the only one.”
“What are you talking about?”
Wanda was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement. “You’ll see in a moment.”
She led him to a house on a side road. It was small, suburban, but it looked comfortable, with a garden in the front yard and a porch swing. She walked in without knocking, but this wasn't her house. Bucky had seen her house in the broadcast.
“Guess who?” she called into the house. The light in the kitchen was on, and Bucky could see a shadow moving. A male shadow, judging by the shape. He lingered close to the door, ready to make a break for it if he needed to.
A man emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. Bucky stopped breathing.
“Hey, Buck,” Steve Rogers said, a warm look in his blue eyes. “You finally made it.”
Bucky stood stone still. It was him, every sense in his body screamed it. It was him, before he left for the past, before he aged and lived a life without Bucky. This was Steve Rogers in his prime. Bucky’s Steve.
His breath came back, but in short, shallow bursts. Steve looked concerned, taking a step towards him, and Bucky stepped back, raising a hand. Steve stopped in his tracks.
Bucky turned to Wanda with wide eyes. The younger woman was looking between the two of them, a pleased expression on her face.
“Wanda,” Bucky said, his voice harsh and raw. “What the hell is going on?”
She frowned, looking disappointed. “What do you mean?”
“He,” Bucky pointed at Steve, “is dead. What-”
“Vis was dead too,” Wanda said. “I brought him back. I brought Steve back too. I already lost one brother, I couldn’t lose another.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Steve shift, but he couldn’t look at him. He grabbed Wanda’s arm and dragged her out of the house. She let out an indignant sound, but followed.
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Bucky said. “Is this real? Is he real?”
Wanda nodded, looking into his eyes. “He is. I promise.”
“And he remembers? Vision doesn’t.”
Wanda winced. “Vision doesn’t remember because he can’t. If he remembers, he’ll want to leave. And outside of this town are people who would hurt him, take him apart and use him as a weapon. I can’t let that happen. But Steve was already out of the game. He has no reason to want to leave, even with his memories.”
She gave him a sad smile, her eyes glistening with tears. “I know what its like to have your future with someone ripped away. But I can fix it here. You can stay. With him.”
***
Bucky didn’t know how long he stood on the porch. His already skewed sense of time in Westview was made worse by the information Wanda laid on him. How the hell was he supposed to know if this was the real Steve? He couldn’t be. Steve was dead. But Vision was real. But Vision was also an android. But who was to say that Wanda’s powers didn’t extend to truly living people?
He was going around and around in circles, and he was giving himself a headache. All of this was way out of Bucky’s level of understanding. He’d just started getting a grasp on the modern world, much as Sam still called him an old man, and now he had to factor in magic and reanimation? What was he supposed to do with that?
He did wish Sam was there. Or in his ear, at least. They knew earpieces wouldn’t work in Westview, no technology made it through, so they hadn’t even attempted. Bucky was on his own.
He decided to stop thinking. He’d always been more about action, intuition, than science or philosophical thinking. He turned, determined, and marched back into the house. Steve was sitting in the living room, elbows leaning on his knees and hands clasped in front of him. Wanda was nowhere to be seen, but Bucky was sure she was somewhere close. Steve’s head snapped up as he walked in. Bucky’s heart wrenched.
“Buck,” Steve said, standing up. “You came back.”
Bucky nodded slowly. “Yeah, I did. Figured I was owed an explanation.”
“Of course. I can-”
“No, I’m gonna ask questions, and you’re gonna answer.”
Steve stopped, quelled, then slowly sat back down, eyes fixed on Bucky. Bucky glanced at the armchair, contemplating sitting, but his muscles were too tense to move from his position.
“Are you real?” he asked bluntly. “Wanda said you were. But you died. I was at your funeral. I was-” he stopped, swallowing.
“I was with you when you passed. So I’m having a hard time believing it.”
“I’m real,” Steve said at once. “I remember all of that. Dying, even.”
“So how are you here?”
Steve shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I know Wanda brought me back. I heard her voice. She said you needed me. But then you weren’t here when I got back, so I’ve been waiting.”
Bucky’s metal hand clenched ever so slightly. “Then prove its you.”
Steve was quiet for a moment, pondering the question. Then he spoke.
“You remember that diner back in Brooklyn? Before any of this happened. Joann’s. We used to go there on Fridays, every evening. Saturdays you would go on dates, take girls out, but Fridays were always for the two of us.”
Bucky did remember, remember the scrawny, sickly Steve sitting across from him, the fluorescent lights illuminating his pale skin.
“And why did we go there?” he asked.
“Because it was our place. And we were together then.”
Bucky tried to steady his breathing. He and Steve had been together, back in the 40s. It wasn’t something they talked about. It was never even acknowledged between the two of them after Steve found him again, even after the Winter Soldier's brainwashing had been reversed by Shuri. Bucky had been too changed, too damaged, to continue where they left off. And then Steve left. But in the 40s, they’d been together as much as two gay men in a homophobic time could be.
“I remember having to hide,” Steve said quietly, blue eyes meeting Bucky’s. “We wouldn’t have to hide here.”
Bucky was convinced that this was really Steve. He didn’t think this was something Wanda could fabricate. Or at least, if she could, there was no way that Bucky would ever be able to tell if Steve wasn’t real. So he acted under the assumption that Steve was real, really back, really here.
He was being offered a choice.
Steve slowly got to his feet, moving towards Bucky. Bucky stood stock still, eyes following the super soldier. Steve reached out his hand slowly, taking Bucky’s. His breath hitched at the contact. Steve was warm, and real, and alive.
“Stay. Please.” Steve said. “I know I’ve made some mistakes, but we could have a life here. The way we always wanted. I love you, Bucky.”
Part of Bucky wanted to surrender, to give in to Steve’s words. He’d missed hearing that, missed Steve so intensely that he spent nights sobbing, the part of his heart that would always belong to Steve aching so badly he wanted to just rip it out. The old Bucky would have said yes without hesitation. Didn’t he deserve this? Hadn’t he waited long enough for his happiness? Suffered enough in this life?
But…. Steve left. Voluntarily, he left. He went back to the past, back to Peggy. He left Bucky in the future, in a strange world that he didn’t entirely understand, and then he died. And now something just felt… wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was.
His hand flexed involuntarily, squeezing Steve’s, and Steve smiled. Bucky would have lived and died for that smile once upon a time. But he found himself searching for something, something that was missing. When he finally found it, he found himself grinning.
He was looking for a gap tooth, annoying, confident smile. Not Steve’s smile. Sam’s. Steve’s hand felt wrong in his because he’d hurt Bucky, but also because it wasn’t Sam’s hand. This future, this life, that Steve was offering him… he would have wanted it once, but now it felt wrong. Because it wasn’t the life he’d established, the life he hadn’t even realized he wanted, the life with Sam.
Steve took his smile as confirmation, but Bucky eased backwards, slowly slipping his hand out of Steve’s. His friend’s face morphed into confusion.
“We could have had a life. If you stayed.” Bucky’s voice was as gentle as he could manage, but there was no stopping the hurt that spread across Steve’s face.
“Buck-”
“I’m sorry, Stevie. I’ve got a life now. You already lived yours. But-” he hesitated. “I’m really grateful I got to see you again.”
Steve accepted this, the same way he accepted nearly everything in his life- with a solemn resignation. Bucky gave him a moment, then turned his mind back to his mission.
“But Steve, you can’t be ok with what’s happening here,” Bucky said.
Steve cocked his head. “What do you mean? What’s going on here?”
Oh. Steve didn’t know what was going on in Westview. Of course he didn’t. Steve would never stay here if he knew that the residents were enslaved.
Bucky opened his mouth to explain, but he saw a shadowy figure behind Steve. A red glow illuminated Wanda’s face. Her previously cheery expression was gone. Her face was blank now, and her head tilted.
“Yes, what’s going on here?” she asked, her accent leaking through.
“Wanda, you don’t have to keep doing this,” Bucky said, holding up his hands. “You can let these people go. They didn’t do anything to you-”
“Didn’t they?” Wanda shot back. “Didn’t they all? I know who sent you. I know you came from the people who want to use Vision as a weapon. I hoped that I could give you this, that you would stay here.”
For a moment, grief appeared on her face, eyes welling with tears. Then she was back to blank.
“But instead, I have to make you leave.”
Then Bucky was flying, thrust through the air, surrounded by red energy, and the Hex was approaching fast. He slammed into it with a bone shattering force, landing on the ground with a yell.
“Bucky!” he heard Sam shout. He let out a groan, blinking open his eyes. It was dark out now, and he could see the stars above him. Then they were blotted out by a welcome sight- Sam’s face, forehead creased with worry.
“Medic! Now!” Sam shouted to someone out of view, then turned back to Bucky.
“Don’t move, ok? Someone’s on their way.”
Despite the pain- Bucky guessed he had a couple broken ribs, maybe a dislocated shoulder- Bucky grinned.
“Hey, Sammy.” He reached out with his metal hand, and Sam, realizing what he wanted, grabbed it in his own. Bucky let his eyes close for a moment, breathing easier.
“You ok?” Sam asked. Bucky could hear shouts coming from behind him, and the pounding of feet. He guessed they had a couple of seconds before the medic got to them.
“Better now,” he said, squeezing Sam’s hand. A half smile twitched on the other man’s face, and then Sam pulled back, letting the medics do their work.
***
Bucky healed quickly, a side effect of the serum, and the medics were able to finish quickly after setting his ribs and shoulder. They wanted to run tests, but restrained themselves to a blood test after the look that Bucky shot them. Sometimes his reputation could be a good thing. He’d sit through all the damn tests they wanted to run later, but now he just wanted to talk to Sam.
Bucky was stuck in his room anyway, so Sam came to him, kicking the nurse out when he entered.
“I gotta say,” he said, looking Bucky up and down, “that outfit’s kick ass.”
Bucky snorted. His clothes hadn’t changed back when he left Westview, so he was still in his full 80s ensemble.
“I lost my favorite gun,” he grumbled. “She could have at least given that back.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get a new one.”
“No.”
“Stubborn.”
“It's like you don’t know me at all,” Bucky said. He felt at ease, comfortable, as they settled back into their usual routine.
“I know you well enough to know something happened in there,” Sam said cautiously. “I know you debriefed with Rambeau, but I think you left some stuff out.”
He had, of course. He told them the important stuff- Wanda, Vision’s forgetfulness, Steve- but he left out the personal crisis he was put through.
“Rambeau told me Steve was there.” There was a tightness in Sam’s voice. Sam still grieved for Steve, grieved the friendship that was cut short.
“He was,” Bucky said slowly. “Wanda… brought him back, somehow.”
“And you’re sure it was him?”
“Yeah. Or if it wasn’t, it was the most goddamn realistic duplicate I’ve ever seen.”
Sam sat down in the chair next to the cot Bucky was on. Bucky raised an eyebrow.
“Why are you all the way over there?”
Sam’s grin was bright and sudden, like the sun breaking through clouds. “What? You want me closer?”
Bucky patted the spot next to him, where he sat on the edge of the cot. Sam shook his head, but complied, thigh pressing against Bucky’s when he sat.
“You want to tell me what happened?” Sam’s voice was quiet, reassuring, and it steadied Bucky, steadied his heart rate, which had been going way too fast ever since he left Westview. Ever since he saw Steve, if he was being honest.
“All right,” Bucky replied. He gave Sam a short version of what happened. It was difficult, and it took him a while to get the words out, but Sam waited patiently. Sam knew that Steve and Bucky had been involved. He was one of the few who did. Bucky only told him after Steve’s death, on a bad night. Even still, the idea of secrecy surrounding their relationship was so ingrained, so essential to their survival, that being open and honest was still difficult. But Sam deserved it.
Sam was quiet throughout the conversation. Bucky reached the part where Steve asked him to stay when he realized that Sam was no longer looking at him. The other man was breathing long and slow, the way that he did when he was trying to keep calm, and his jaw was clenched.
“Sam?”
Sam didn’t reply, but his eyes flicked to Bucky’s face, then away again. Bucky frowned.
“Hey,” Bucky said, reaching out his hand. He ignored the twinge in his ribs as he turned to face Sam, touching his face. “Talk to me.”
Sam inhaled at that, a deep, shuddering breath.
“Sorry,” he said quietly, voice choked. “Sorry. This ain’t about me, I’m not trying to make it about me. I just need a second.”
Bucky snorted quietly. “Come on, Wilson. When have you ever made something about yourself? Talk.”
Sam’s hand clenched and unclenched slowly on his fist. “I think you should talk first. Cause I think I know what you’re gonna say.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“Listen, Bucky,” Sam sighed heavily. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. We’ve been involved for a bit, but what you have with Steve… I mean, I know how much he means to you. I’m not gonna be pissed with you for deciding to go back to him.”
Bucky blinked. “What?”
Sam turned to him suddenly, all earnesty and raw emotion. “I just want you to be happy, man. You’ve loved him since the 40s. I never expected to compete with that, I just- I got more attached than I meant to, I guess. But that’s on me, not on you.”
“I said no,” Bucky blurted out.
Sam stilled.
“I said no, Sam. I’m not- Steve and I- he left. He chose Peggy, he had his life. Maybe a year ago I would have said yes, but that was before-”
Bucky ran his hand through his hair. “Shit, Sam, I’m not good with words. I don’t want that life anymore. I don’t want Steve anymore.”
Sam was staring at him, staring at him with those warm brown eyes, looking like he was drinking him in.
“You said no,” Sam said, voice hoarse.
“I said no.”
“You came back.”
“I did.”
Then Sam was surging forward, capturing Bucky’s lips, gripping his jaw to pull him in. Bucky gasped into his mouth, then returned the kiss, moving closer to Sam until there was no room left between them. Sam kissed him like a dying man, not like their usual fumbling- there was a purpose behind this one, emotion that Bucky was overwhelmed by. Bucky gave as good as he got.
They had to stop after a time, or else they probably would have been caught by an unsuspecting SWORD agent. Sam pulled back slightly, a self-satisfied expression on his face.
“Stop that,” Bucky said warningly.
“Stop what? Can’t a guy smile?”
“Not like that he can’t.”
It had the opposite effect- Sam’s smile only widened. “You like me.”
“Says who?”
“Says you.”
“What are we, high schoolers? What is this?” Bucky said, throwing his hands up.
“You don’t gotta admit it, but I know. You can’t hide from me, Barnes,” Sam said, that familiar confidence oozing back into his voice. Bucky, though he would never say it out loud, was thrilled to see it back.
“In your dreams, Wilson.”
Sam’s expression softened slightly. “Are you ok, though? That couldn’t have been easy.”
Bucky nodded. This time, it was true. He was ok. He was more than ok.
“Yeah. I’m really ok.”
One day he would tell Sam the whole story. Why he said no, the realization. He’d tell Sam the feelings that came to light, even though he would probably be relentlessly teased about it for months. It would be worth it. But for now, he wasn’t worried. Sam already knew.