Without me: Chapter 1, marvel cinematic universe, the avengers (marvel movies) fanfic

yasha

author

Characters

James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Minor Characters

Chapter 1

April 30, 2025 at 11:39 AM

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Bucky lets out a quiet, long breath as he continues staring at the ceiling. It’s been two weeks since he came to Steve for help, after being shot two times in his leg and one in his stomach, having his right shoulder dislocated, and probably having a concussion. He would be furious with himself if not for the fact that he killed all those Hydra fuckers. All of them.

Bucky made a promise to himself, after saving Steve from the bottom of the Potomac, that he wouldn’t come near the blonde until he wiped Hydra off the face of the Earth. Sure, it took time. It took three long fucking years, tracing every lead he knew of and then some. When he located that last Hydra bunker facility deep down under the streets of Brooklyn, his blood boiled and he couldn’t think straight. Those fuckers had the audacity to poison his home, his streets. Every bullet he released, every knife he threw, and every neck he snapped caused a shiver down his spine. That was it. That was the last of Hydra standing and he burnt it all to the ground. Taking a hard beating was a small price to pay for looking at the empty warehouse collapse in flames.

The last three years, however, were easy compared to the part right now. He’s finally with Steve, and yet he couldn’t be more miserable. He’s living under Steve’s roof, his little Stevie still looking at him like he could disappear any second, and yet he wants to flee just as much as he wanted to bring an end to Hydra. Bucky knows damn well he’s being ungrateful; who in their right mind wouldn’t be happy to be reunited with the love of their life, after over seventy years of torture and brainwashing? No one. But Bucky isn’t exactly in his right mind; he never was when it came to Steve.

It all started almost a hundred years ago, when Bucky was just seven years old, starting second grade. Everyone already knew each other except for one new kid; he was short and scrawny, his clothes too big for his bony body, washed out and disheveled. He had blonde hair that kept falling behind his thick glasses and into his big, dim blue eyes. He was so small everyone assumed he should have been in kindergarten and was just waiting for the teacher to take him to the right classroom. Instead, the teacher introduced him as Steven Rogers, a new transfer from a school in a different district. The kid didn’t even raise his head as he sat in the only empty chair, pulling out his battled notebook and a single pencil. He was a hot topic that day, Bucky remembers, but no one wanted to befriend him, so the kid spent the entire day by himself. Bucky would be lying if he said he took to Steve quickly; the blonde was distanced from everyone else, always sitting alone and sketching in his only notebook when he thought no one was paying attention. Bucky however, was a cool kid; he was the biggest boy in his class and was best friends with Tom Wilkes, the coolest one there was. At recess, they would throw rocks as far as they could, challenging others to compete with them and winning every time.

It changed one afternoon, a month or so into the semester. After classes, all the kids waited patiently for their parents to pick them up from school. Steve was the only exception, as he would hang in the day room. That one afternoon though, as they were all jumping around in front of the building, Steve came out too. Nobody paid him any attention, until a lady came and called Steve by his name. Everyone’s head snapped up as they all thought they finally saw the blonde’s mom. Imagine their surprise when one of the kids started whispering he knew the lady from his church and that she worked at a local orphanage. The news traveled fast, and before Steve could join her, all the kids were whispering about him being an orphan.

What followed was all the kids from their class making fun of Steve; before, they knew nothing about him, but now they all picked on what was he was wearing, how he only had one notebook and one pencil. They laughed at Steve’s thick glasses and unkept hair, pushing him around and making faces behind his back. Bucky watched from the side, as, as soon as he broke the news to his parents, they told him that that was a common occurrence and he shouldn’t treat the kid any less because of that. He tried to tell Tom to cut the jokes, but his friend wouldn’t hear it. Instead, he became the worst bully. Once, during recess, he threw a rock at Steve’s direction, hitting him square in the chest. The blonde started coughing and pulled out his inhaler, and Tom ran up to him and threw the medicine out of Steve’s hand. Tom pushed the blonde, causing him to fall down, and laughed. Bucky couldn’t take this anymore and ran to them too, pushing Tom aside. He was still bigger than his friend, so he had no problem punching his arm, and kicking his leg. He yelled at Tom to leave the poor guy alone and looked for his inhaler, helping Steve up and pushing the medicine to his lips.

Bucky runs a hand down his face as he sits up. The sun is shining through the window, hitting it just at the right angle and highlighting the frost on the glass. It’s sparkling and a shiver goes down Bucky’s spine as it reminds him of the times when he was put in cryo. He shakes his head to get rid of the memories, and kicks the duvet down the bed. Bucky stands up, stretching, and rolls his shoulders. His injuries and bullet holes have already healed, but his body still hurts after being in a combat mode for so long. Bucky pulls a tee over his head and ties his hair into a messy bun. He goes to the doors and stands still for a while, listening. The apartment is quiet, too quiet, so he knows Steve isn’t back yet. Whatever Avengers bullshit he went on this time is definitely taking longer than expected, as he was supposed to be back yesterday morning.

Bucky opens the doors quietly, a habit he can’t seem to lose, and pads down to the kitchen. He puts on the coffee pot and leans again the kitchen island, waiting for it to brew. He looks around Steve’s home, their home, letting out a deep breath. The kitchen and living room are joined, and from where Bucky’s standing, he has a clear view of the grey couch, the coffee table and TV hanged on the wall opposite him. Floor to ceiling windows are on the left of the room, the frost making it hard to see Brooklyn streets covered in snow. The walls are painted light grey, a couple of Steve’s sketches hanging in black frames. There’s a picture of Sarah Rogers, as well as Bucky’s parents. Next to the TV is a big bookshelf, filled with books on many different subjects and biographies; Bucky guesses all these books were given to Steve to help him adjust to the 21st century. Cushions and blankets in different colors are on the floor in front of the windows, and Steve sometimes sinks into them with a sketchbook in his lap, drawing the view.

Once the coffee is ready, Bucky pours himself a cup, and sits in front of the window, propping his back against the couch, and puts a blanket over his bare feet. The apartment is cold but he doesn't mind. Bucky’s used to the cold; what he’s not used to is being this comfortable, sitting on pillows, covered with blankets, without a mission he has to accomplish, without the fear of being found. He sighs, taking a sip, and putting his right hand down on the wooden floor. He knows Steve may be home any minute now, but he can’t bring himself to go stand up and go back to “his” room. Instead, Bucky allows his body to relax and sink further into the cushions, tipping his head back and breathing in the smell of fresh coffee. He closes his eyes and lets the memories play in his head.

Ever since the incident with Tom Wilkes, Steve and Bucky had become best friends. They would sit together all the time, Bucky sharing his lunch with Steve and teaching him how to throw rocks properly at recess. They quickly became inseparable and everyone always referred to them as ‘Steve and Bucky’ as they couldn’t be separated. Bucky’s parents made it possible for Steve to come home with Bucky after their classes and they studied together and played after, then ate diner at the Barnes’ home. Bucky’s dad always walked Steve back to the orphanage, Bucky tagging along more often than not. They grew up together and Bucky was glad to have a friend in Steve, the blonde turning out to be way more interesting than all the friends Bucky had had before. Once, during a sleepover at Bucky’s home, Steve admitted that his Pa died in the First World War, his Ma joining his husband not long after. Bucky hugged Steve for long then, letting the blonde cry into his shoulder. When the cold winter came, and Steve began to miss classes because of his weak immune system, Bucky promised himself to study even harder than before to help Steve catch up with classes. He would go to visit Steve at the orphanage, or even hospital at times, bringing his books with him.

What Bucky remembers most though, is one cold March afternoon in fifth grade, right before his birthday. Steve missed most of the first semester due to a bad case of pneumonia and had to repeat the class. Bucky spent the entire February sulking, having to go to classes without his best friend from now on. His parents tried everything to cheer him up, but nothing worked. By then, he and Steve spent most of their time together, the blonde coming to Barnes’ house every weekend, not only after classes. It still wasn’t enough for Bucky, and his grades dropped rapidly. Then, the day before Bucky’s tenth birthday, his parents sat him down on the sofa, giving him and his little sister Becca a box of good chocolates, one they couldn’t afford on a daily basis. Bucky had thought that was his present and he tried to muster all the energy he could into his weak ‘thank you.’ His parents, however, waited till Bucky and Becca’s mouths were filled with chocolate to break the good news: Steve was moving in with them. Somehow, despite of their not so great financial situation, they managed to take custody of Steve until he was of age. Bucky remembers vividly the joy that filled him then, as he jumped around and hugged his parents so hard his mom was finding it hard to take a breath. When he asked if they were brothers now, they explained to him that no—the orphanage was just overcrowded and its supplies and resources could only suffice for a certain amount of kids. With that, and Steve spending most of the time at Bucky’s anyway, they were allowed to take custody of the blonde without actually becoming his foster parents.

The minute Steve walked through the doors of the Barnes’ house the next day, Bucky ran to him and took the smaller man in his arms, jumping and spinning him around. Steve was so confused when Bucky started screaming they’d live together, and then they both cried from joy and decided to bake a cake for George and Winifred. The cake turned out to be a disaster, as two kids who had no experience whatsoever added too much salt and too little sugar, making it inedible. Bucky’s parents weren’t mad though; they laughed and made them promise to never bake anything again.

Sharing a room with Steve and seeing him everyday was all young Bucky could’ve asked for. They talked about everything and nothing, often spending time in silence together, Steve sketching in his notebook, one that Winifred bought especially for his art, and Bucky exploring the world of fantasy novels. They somehow managed to squeeze another single bed in Bucky’s room, though the boys joined their beds and slept together most of the time. The first couple of nights, they both went to sleep on their separate sides, back to each other. In the morning though, they always found each other draped all over themselves, and finally one night, Bucky told Steve to quit being a baby and just move closer. He threw his arm over Steve’s smaller frame and fell asleep in a second, sighing happily as he finally had his best friend all to himself. Sure, having another kid at home wasn’t easy; they already didn’t have much, and with Steve coming to live with them, and the Great Depression making the financial situation even worse, Bucky had to compromise a lot of his favorite snacks and other goods, but he was happy to give them up. They shared everything, and when Bucky’s growth spurt hit, Steve would often wear clothes that were no longer fit for the brunet.

Bucky blinks, bringing himself back to the present. The sun is no longer hitting the windows and a quick look at the watch in the kitchen tells him it’s past noon already. He finishes his cup of coffee and gets up, carrying the empty cup to the sink and washing it quickly. He dries it and puts it back in the cupboard, then opens the fridge. It’s mostly empty, and the only food that’s left has already gone bad. Bucky tosses it to the garbage bin and decides to go grocery shopping, figuring Steve’ll probably be hungry once he’s back. Bucky does a mental list of things he has to buy and goes back to his room to change. He puts on some jeans and a black hoodie, then goes to the bathroom and washes his face and teeth. When he’s done, he pockets his phone and wallet, and puts on his boots and winter jacket. Bucky makes sure he has at least three knives and a gun on him just in case, then puts on a cap, pulling his hood over it. He leaves the apartment, locking the doors behind himself, and takes the stairs instead of the elevator. Outside, Bucky takes a deep breath of the cold winter air, and, keeping close to the buildings, walks a couple of blocks to a grocery store; he chooses a different one every time he goes shopping, just to be sure he’s not being followed. When he finds one he hasn’t been to before, Bucky takes a cart and strolls down the alleys. He takes everything he needs, scoffing at the prices at most cases, and goes to the fruit stand. His eyes stop at oranges and his mouth waters at the sight. Bucky can’t remember the last time he’d had an orange and he goes a little overboard with them, hoping Steve’ll like them. It was one of their favorite treats when they were young and he can’t help but think of all the winters they spent together.

Every fall and winter, when the temperatures outside dropped drastically, Bucky would worry about Steve getting sick. He’d fuss about the blonde not wearing enough warm clothes and insist that he wore Bucky’s sweaters that were at least three sizes too big for him. Steve complained, the stubborn little shit that he was, but eventually he wore the sweaters and glared at Bucky whenever he thought the brunet wasn’t looking. Sometimes though, even that didn’t help. Steve’s immune system was still almost non-existent, and even a common cold could made him spend two weeks in bed. One winter, when the temperatures hit an all time low, Steve was down with a bad case of pneumonia. He spent a month in a hospital and during the first week Bucky threw a tantrum every night the nurses asked him to leave and let Steve rest. After that, they let him stay on weekends and he crawled into Steve’s bed and kept him warm all night. He recalls coming to visit Steve one day after classes, only to find his friend delirious with fever. The nurses kept coming into his room and giving him medicine, but from their faces Bucky could see they gave Steve little chance of surviving the night. He ran home with tears in his eyes, and packed some of the warmest clothes he had. Winifred caught him right before he left again and went to the hospital with him, her eyes shining with worry. When they finally reached the room Steve was in, Bucky knelt by his bed, took the blonde’s hand into his and rested his cheek on their entwined fingers. Tears kept streaming down his face and Winifred, sitting in a chair beside him, kept stroking his hair gently, a soft sob escaping her throat every once in a while. That was the first time the thought of losing Steve so soon came to his head and he couldn’t subside his emotions even if he tried. He was around fifteen at that time and he finally started to understand what other people meant when they talked about love. It was so easy to him, the concept of unconditional love. He loved Steve, of course he did. Up to this point however, he always thought about the blonde as his brother. But, while clutching Steve’s hand in his, saying silent prayers and crying his heart out, for the first time he thought about loving Steve in a different way. In a way his mom loved his dad. In a romantic way. He asked Winifred that afternoon, her hand still stroking his hair, if it’s possible for a man to love another man the way he should love a woman. His mom smiled a sad smile then, nodding. He was confused though, as he had never seen two men loving each other like that before. Winifred explained to him, that of course it’s possible, it’s just not that common because some people don’t accept it. He asked her why, then, since it’s love; it’s not something one can change in any way. She shrugged and kissed his temple, then stood up to kiss Steve’s too, and left the two of them alone wiping at her eyes. Bucky spent another while on his knees, adoring Steve’s pale hand with soft kisses, and promising he’d never love another person the way he did the blonde. Later, he changed into the clothes he brought and crawled into the bed, pulling Steve closer to his chest and kissing his temple.

Eventually, Steve got better, but Bucky’s realization of love for his best friend stayed with him. When all the boys in his class started getting interested in girls and asking them out, Bucky turned to his books and novels, spending his free time with Steve. The blonde was yet to hit his puberty, so he never asked Bucky why the brunet wasn’t chasing girls like all the boys in his class did. Instead, every time Bucky came to him at lunch, he gave him a blinding smile, his eyes bright. Bucky never brought up the subject either, choosing to let the girls that smiled at him down lightly. He knew he was good-looking; he was still one of the tallest boys in class, his shoulders got broad and his jaw sharper. He let his hair grew a little, so it would curl at the ends and fall onto his forehead. Bucky learned how to charm his way out of any uncomfortable situation and how to show just the right smile to get anything he wanted. Sometimes, he used that smile on Steve. Whenever the blonde wanted to do something Bucky wasn’t really feeling like at the moment, he would curl his lips slowly, letting them part just a bit, and look up from his eyelashes. Steve always sighed, unhappy. Once, Bucky could swear the blonde blushed, and it was the second happiest day of his life.

After all his groceries are paid for and packed, Bucky pulls his cap low on his head and goes back to the apartment, choosing a different path. He uses the key to let himself into the building and takes the stairs, the bags heavy in his arms. On their floor, he puts the groceries down and unlocks the doors, getting inside. He looks around, but there’s still no sign of Steve; disappointment downs on him, but Bucky quickly shoves it down, as he unzips his jacket and takes off his shoes. He takes the bags to the kitchen and puts everything he bought in the fridge, leaving the oranges on the kitchen island. Bucky puts them in a bowl, taking one for himself, and peels it. He slips one slice in his mouth and almost cries as it hits his taste buds. He leans against the counter, licking his lips and savoring the taste. Bucky bounces on his feet a little, shoving another slice into his mouth, as he can’t wait for Steve to try it. He puts the remaining slices into a small bowl and goes to the living room, where he throws himself onto the couch and leans back. Bucky closes his eyes, as he lets the quiet of the apartment envelop him. He pops another slice into his mouth and the smell and taste of the orange, along with the silence that lets his mind wander, are taking him years back, making the memories explode in front of his eyes.

When both Steve and Bucky came of age and finished high school, they moved out, not wanting to cause Bucky’s parents any more troubles than they already had, bringing up three kids. They rented a room in a shitty complex, three blocks down from Bucky’s parents, with just one bed, a small table with a ratty chair, and an old wardrobe. The room was so small they couldn’t even breathe without the other hearing it. The floor creaked with every step and the faded-blue wallpaper was coming off near the ceiling. A small, broken mirror was hanging at a wall opposite the drafty window, and the radiator was barely working. They had a shared kitchen and bathroom that didn’t lock, but it was enough for them. It was even more than enough for Bucky, as he continued to live with his best friend that took his breath away every time he smiled. They both managed to find jobs, Bucky getting hired at the docks and Steve at a local grocery store. They could afford going to the movies every couple months or riding the Cyclone at the Coney Island. Even though Bucky hated his job, hated doing nothing but moving heavy boxes all day long, he wouldn’t have it any other way. The plus side of working there, was that he was actually developing some muscles. Every now and then, walking home from work in his battled slacks and an undershirt, his jacket thrown casually over his shoulder, he would catch a dame looking at him with a glint in her eyes. He politely nodded at them, murmuring ‘ma’am’ under his breath, but he always came home to Steve. He loved that part of day when he finally climbed three flights of stairs and turned the lock in the doors; Steve sat in their only chair, moved closer to the window for the best light, sketching in his notebook and waiting for him to come back. Bucky would lean against the doors, toeing off his shoes, and the corners of his lips would lift up involuntary. He always gave Steve a quick hug before going to shower, the blonde wrinkling up his nose in distaste.

Once a month they let themselves enjoy their young age and went dancing. Steve hated that, having two left feet, but he always went with Bucky and pretended to enjoy himself for Bucky’s sake. They put on their best clothes and used a bit of cologne, the only bottle they had, that Bucky’s parents got them for Christmas every year. Bucky smoothed his hair with pomade and Steve made a face every time the brunette tried to convince him to use it too. By then, Bucky’s feelings for Steve were stronger than ever. His heart beat faster whenever Steve shortened his name to ‘Buck’ or hugged him. They still slept in one bed, spooning, and Bucky had to take cold showers way more often than he’d like. The nights when they went dancing were his favorites, as well as the ones he hated the most. Favorite, because he could take Steve out and see him wear his best slacks and a button up with a tie. Hated, because even though they went out together, he couldn’t do what all the other couples did; couldn’t do a slow dance with Steve, couldn’t casually drop a kiss to his temple or on his lips. He couldn’t take Steve by his waist and drop him down, leaning over him, feeling Steve’s breath ghosting on his face. Sure, they danced in their room, Bucky using the excuse of needing to teach the other man how to dance properly. But it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to take Steve out, hold his hand and open doors for him. He wanted to give him flowers and pester him with kisses. He wanted to run his hand through Steve’s hair every time they went to bed and kiss him goodnight. Bucky wanted to kiss him good morning, too, and to kiss every inch of his small, bony body.

Bucky didn’t get to do any of that, and instead had to pretend his feelings didn’t exist. He didn’t even know if Steve liked him that way too. Sure, he had his suspicions, as sometimes when they woke up Steve went to the bathroom quickly, his face all red. Sometimes, when they were talking, Steve’s eyes would drop to his lips, and whenever Bucky noticed, he ran his tongue over them slowly, excitement thrumming through his veins as Steve’s eyes followed. They never talked about it though, not once. They never mentioned the possibility of any of them dating or even being attracted to someone. The only times it was an uncomfortable subject were after going to the dancehalls. Bucky was in his element on the dance floor, and, after a few watered-down beers, he loosened his tie and his eyes scanned the room, looking for a dance partner. He never let his eyes linger on Steve for too long; he was afraid of being caught. Instead, he winked at the first dame his eyes fell on and extended his hand, waiting for her to accept the invitation. They always came and danced with him till they were both out of breath. Sometimes, he would sneak out with them out the back doors, craving human touch. He knew Steve could tell what he was doing because of his disheveled hair and hiss button up tucked in his slacks messily. The blonde never commented on it, though, just gave him a small smile and went back to sipping his one and only beer for the night. On their way back home, Bucky would throw his arm around Steve’s shoulder, tucking him close. The blonde always shook his head, but chuckled nonetheless, and, once in bed, Bucky would give Steve’s shoulder a quick peck before falling asleep, blaming it on the alcohol later.

Bucky focuses his eyes on the oranges in front of him, instead of the images in his head. He pops the last slice into his mouth and goes back to the kitchen, opening the fridge and wondering what to make for lunch. His cooking is far from perfect but he can still make something simple, something his mom taught him when he and Steve were moving out of his parents’ house. Bucky opens the fridge and pulls out cheese and cream. He grabs flour and pasta from the shelf, deciding to make mac’n’cheese from the scratch. It’s something he and Steve used to eat all the time, usually with canned sauce as they couldn’t afford to buy all the ingredients separately. The corners of his lips lift up slightly as he remembers, and he pours some water into the pot to boil it. Bucky shreds the cheese next and pulls out another pot to put cream and butter into it. Once it’s mixed, he adds some flour and shredded cheese. He stirs it until it’s creamy and turns the heat down, putting pasta in the boiling water after. Waiting for it to cook, Bucky pulls his phone from his jeans pocket and quickly scrolls through the news. He knows Steve’s mission wasn’t one of the official ones and he probably won’t find anything about it; nevertheless, his heart stills while looking through the Avengers and Captain America’s tags. Once he’s sure nothing bad happened, he puts the phone screen down on the kitchen island and leans against it. Steve should’ve been home yesterday, and even though Bucky has some mixed feelings about the blonde, he worries nonetheless.

See, the thing is, that ever since Bucky came back, they haven’t talked about what they mean to each other, now, or in the past. Bucky is as confused as ever, and the fact that Steve hasn’t mentioned his name publicly even once since waking up from his 70 years long sleep only adds to it. The brunet also can’t help but feel a bit bitter—about everything, really. But mostly about the fact that he seems to be forgotten, not only by the history, but also by the man who he thought was his everything. Bucky doesn’t really know how he feels so he has no idea how to act around Steve, his hurt squeezing his chest every time he sees the blonde. He still loves Steve, though, just like he did back in the day, and the worry inside him grows bigger with every hour that passes. It’s Steve’s second Avengers mission since Bucky showed up on his doorstep, and Bucky already knows it won’t be his last. Steve’s still the national icon, the noble soldier, the hero of the century.

But Bucky? He’s no one.

Bucky knew it was all too good to be true, even with the economic crisis making their lives miserable, so of course it all went to hell. He was at work when the news about Pearl Harbor broke in the radio. He raced home as soon as he was finished, but Steve already knew. And with that, he already checked where the nearest enlistment office was so he could go there the next day. They had their biggest fight that night, yelling at each other till the neighbors from next room came and told them to be quiet. Bucky did everything he could to stop Steve from joining the army—he asked, pleaded and even begged. Steve was stubborn though, always had been. He had his mind set and there was nothing Bucky could’ve said or done. They went to bed in silence, backs to each other, leaving as much space between them as possible. Bucky had barely any sleep that night; his mind was racing with so many possibilities of losing Steve, he had to bite down on his fist hard to keep himself from sobbing out loud. Still, the worst scenario was what happened the following day. Steve didn’t say a single word to Bucky in the morning, and when he came home from work, the blonde threw his 4F right in Bucky’s face. The brunet knew Steve was mad and disappointed; mad at himself for being so small and sickly, disappointed that he couldn’t help his country in the time of need. Bucky kept a straight face, even though inside he was so relieved. Relieved Steve would be safe, here, at home, away from the trenches, tanks, grenades and bullets flying through the air. He pulled Steve in his arms then, hugging him tight and keeping him close to his heart. Steve was stiff at first, but then he relaxed, clinging to Bucky’s undershirt and weeping silently into it. Bucky stroked his hair gently, murmuring nonsense into his good ear, and dropping barely-there kisses to his temple. When they parted, Steve’s eyes were puffy, but his jaw was set and Bucky’s heart dropped. He should’ve known better. Steve was a fighter, always had been, so of course he wouldn’t give up. However, Bucky still had that tiny bit of hope Steve would get rejected once more. Call him a bad friend, but the thought of Steve, his Stevie, being out there in Europe, fighting in the cold and mud and all the horrible things war brought with it, was making Bucky’s blood turn ice-cold.

That week was all a blur for Bucky. He went to work at dawn and came back in the afternoons only to find Steve sitting deep in his thought, another rejected form in his lap. They never discussed Bucky’s enlistment, both knowing the brunet would never leave Steve’s side without being ordered to. Call him unpatriotic, but there was no chance in hell he would up and leave the person he already knew was the love of his life. Sure, maybe they were never to be together. It didn’t matter to Bucky though, he was happy to be Steve’s best friend till the end of his life. Besides, he knew the letter was coming for him, he could feel it in his bones. So of course, that Sunday, when they went to Bucky’s parents for dinner, George opened the door with an envelope with Bucky’s name on it in his hand. The brunet tucked it in his jacket right away, even though he could tell Steve saw it by the flash of hurt in his eyes. He scolded his expression quickly, but by then Bucky read him like a book. They all ate dinner without actually mentioning the war or the letter, and only when Steve was taking takeout containers from Winifred, George came up to Bucky, hugged him tightly and told him to make his country proud.

Bucky still thanks heavens that his father never lived to see what really became of his only son.

The rest of the month was a blur to Bucky too. He quit his job the next day, and was paid extra for going to serve his country. All his coworkers wished him luck and asked to wait for them to join him before ending the war. Everyone he knew congratulated him that day. Bucky thought it was a sick joke, as going to war and leaving Steve was the last thing he wanted to do. It made him short of breath and his head dizzy and he just wanted to scream helplessly. He didn’t though. He joked around about decking Hitler himself and, on his way back, bought a brand new sketchbook and a set of pencils with the extra money. When he got back, Steve still wasn’t there so Bucky went out again. He went to the florist’s and asked for a flower that symbolized love. She guessed right away that he was shipping away and needed a flower for his sweetheart that would stay at home. Giving him a single white rose, she said she was sure his lady would wait for him. Bucky didn’t correct her, giving her a small smile as his eyes started to water, and left, dragging his feet all the way back.

That time, when he pushed the doors open, Steve was already back. He was laying on their bed, curled up and facing the other way. Bucky threw his jacket on the floor and toed off his shoes, padding down to the bed quietly. He sat behind Steve’s back and started rubbing small circles between the blonde’s shoulder blades. Steve wiped at his eyes, keeping his face away from the brunet, and Bucky’s heart broke. He knew how much helping their country meant for Steve and how little it did to him. He gave out a strangled laugh, his voice breaking, as the irony of the situation became too much for him. Steve would give everything to enlist; Bucky would do the same to stay home, at the blonde’s side. His eyes stung with tears as he leaned down and dropped a kiss to Steve’s shoulder. He sat up, leaning against the wall, and pulled the other man closer to him. Steve hid his face in Bucky’s shirt and fisted his hands in it, shaking slightly as quiet sobs escaped his lips. Bucky was to go to basics in two days and neither of them was ready to say goodbye. Bucky laid the flower on the bed beside him and started stroking Steve’s hair gently, running his other hand down the man’s back in soothing motions. Tears were silently falling down his face too, as he realized this was one of few nights they had left together. Theoretically, he knew there was a chance of him coming back home; his father did, so why wouldn’t he? He had someone to come back to, someone worth living for. But, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that the future he wanted with Steve was just a wishful dream. So Bucky stroked the blonde’s hair, his entire world curled up in his lap, and tried to not give in to the negative thoughts. Once Steve calmed down enough to stop shaking, Bucky entwined their fingers, something he did only once before, too afraid of giving his feelings away, and rubbed small circles on the blonde’s hand. When Steve looked up, the brunet wiped away the reminder of his tears and brought their joined hands to his lips, leaving a chaste kiss on Steve’s. The blonde’s lips curled in a sad smile, his eyes bright and shiny, seemingly bigger without his glasses. Bucky had to muster all the self-restraint he had to not lean down and kiss Steve senseless. Instead, he ran his free hand through the man’s hair again, slowly, gently, and let his eyes show everything he felt. They locked eyes, leaving their emotions unspoken, and Bucky pulled Steve up, making him sit on his thighs. He gave Steve the rose and, at the blonde’s surprised expression, just brought their hands to his lips again, holding Steve’s hand there for longer that time and still keeping eye contact. Bucky knew he didn’t have to say anything; Steve knew how he felt just as much as Bucky knew about the man’s love for him. Steve put the flower down gently and crossed his arms behind Bucky’s neck, letting his head rest against the brunette’s shoulder. Bucky did the same and they stayed like that, inhaling each other. When Steve finally lifted his head, he cupped Bucky’s cheek and run his thumb on the man’s lower lip. Bucky’s lips parted, taking a sharp breath, and before he knew what was happening, Steve was kissing him. It was just a chaste kiss at first; then the blonde parted his lips too and run his tongue on Bucky’s lower lip, licking into his mouth tentatively. The brunet hummed, content, and then Steve was really kissing him, slow and sweet, and Bucky swore he could have died happily in that moment. They were kissing lazily, exploring each other and moaning softly each time they parted to take a breath. Bucky was fixated on Steve’s mouth, red and shiny, so he kept leaning in for more, never having enough. He ran his hand through the blonde’s hair and then down his spine, cupping his ass and squeezing gently. Steve sucked his lower lip in response and suddenly their kiss became heated, electric, and not enough. Bucky had never undressed that fast before and when he came, with Steve’s name on his mouth and hand in his hair, war was the last thing on his mind.

After finishing his lunch, Bucky puts the rest of it in tupperware and then in the fridge. He does the dishes, his mind drifting between the past and the present, and dries them off. Checking his phone once again, making sure there is no new news on the Avengers, Bucky decides to go out. He can’t be alone in the empty apartment right now; it’s too much for him and whatever’s left of his sanity. Theoretically, he knows he has no right to be mad at Steve—he and the blonde never discussed what they were, what they are to each other, and Bucky can’t hold it against him if Steve doesn’t feel the love for Bucky anymore. Hell, he only had eyes for Carter even before this whole shitshow with Hydra happened. And it’s definitely not Steve’s fault that, while he was being praised and worshiped, Bucky was just another fallen soldiers, remembered only by few historians. Still, Bucky can’t help but feel betrayed, used; he was with Steve since the beginning, he loved Steve since he knew what love meant, and yet no one seems to care.

Bucky clenches his fists, the metal of his left arm whirling loudly, and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knows damn well he shouldn’t be shoving his feelings down—at some point he’ll explode. But he can’t be mad at Steve now, not when the blonde is away fighting god knows who again, along with the rest of the Avengers. If something happened, Bucky would be on the first plane to wherever they are, anything to make sure Steve’s safe. Even though he knows Steve can handle himself—and pretty damn well, too—Bucky worries sick about his safety. After all, the blonde is the only thing that makes Bucky’s life worth living. Bucky’s heart still jumps whenever Steve calls him “Buck,” and the man’s smile is still the most beautiful thing Bucky’s ever seen. Bucky’s love for Steve is the only thing that rescued him, the only thing that brought him back to life.

Bucky just wishes his feelings weren’t one-sided.

When Bucky came back home from training, he knew he was going to be shipped away as quickly as possible. All the commanding officers nodded whenever they saw him in action and he had spent more time shooting guns and rifles than any other man at the camp. He wasn’t happy about it, not in the slightest. But, if he was being honest, he liked the heavy weight of the rifle on his shoulder, the small kick-back after he fired and the whiz in the air as the bullet came rushing forward. He didn’t admit it out loud, though, and when Steve asked him about training, he only said it was exhausting. When they woke up next morning, Bucky had to go to get his uniform fitted and Steve had the afternoon off. They made plans to go to the movies together for the last time, until Bucky comes back from war. None of them knew yet Bucky’s orders were to come the exact same day. He wanted to surprise the blonde, so after getting his uniform he went home to change quickly. He dropped by his parents to show off, and George slipped the envelope in his hands. They all hugged tightly, Winifred and Becca crying, both Bucky and George fighting their own tears. The brunet said his last goodbye to his family, and raced to the movies, knowing he’ll probably be late. He was just about to turn the corner next to the theater when he heard a fight in a back alley. His blood boiled as the worst case scenario came to his mind. He ran into the alley and sure, there was Steve fighting someone twice his size. Bucky yelled at the guy and kicked his ass, helping the blonde up afterwards. He noticed Steve tried to enlist again and had to restrain himself from picking up yet another fight with the blonde. Instead, Steve asked him about his orders, he could tell from the look on Bucky’s face. The brunet put on a brave face, bouncing on his heels slightly, and dropped his rank. Sergeant. It sounded wrong even to his own ears, but he didn’t want to disappoint the blonde even more. He had a nice surprise for him, and since they were already late to the movies, he decided to tell Steve now. They were going to the Stark Expo and Bucky finally found a way to take him on a date. He met a girl in a dancehall and it quickly turned out she was as interested in him as he was in her; instead, she kept throwing longing glances to the girl she came with. Bucky had made a deal with her then, and now they were finally putting it into action. The four of them met at the expo, happy to pretend to be on a double date just to be with the ones they truly loved. Watching Stark on stage, Bucky hooked his pinkie around Steve’s looking behind his shoulder cautiously. They couldn’t hold hands like the girls did; it wasn’t appropriate for two men. So he did what he could to show Steve his affection, and gave him a small smile, one only the blonde would understand. The night of course, ended in yet another fight between them. Steve tried to enlist again, and Bucky was scared they would actually take him. If not now, then eventually, and he won’t even be there to find out. His heart was thrumming in his chest, but all he could do was to hug the blonde and call him a punk. He left Steve at the enlistment office, and took the girls dancing as he promised. When he came home that night, the blonde still wasn’t back. Bucky packed all the essentials he needed in his duffle bag and prepared his uniform for the next day. He had to leave at an asscrack of a down and he couldn’t fall asleep without Steve’s small frame curled on his chest. He fidgeted under the covers, but sleep finally came to him. When Bucky woke up, Steve was asleep at his side. He ran his hand through the blonde’s hair and kissed his temple, blinking back tears. Bucky took a quick shower and put his uniform on, ready to go. He looked at Steve curled up in bed and bit down on his lower lip. He wanted to just turn the lock and leave, but he couldn’t; not without saying goodbye to Steve first. The brunet sat down on their bed softly, and cupped Steve’s cheek, running his thumb over the blonde’s lips. When Steve blinked and opened his eyes, Bucky smiled down at him and ruffled his hair affectionately. The blonde sat up and threw his arms over Bucky’s neck, hiding his face in the brunet’s shoulder. Bucky laughed, a sob escaping his throat, and ran his hands up and down Steve’s spine. They stayed like that for a while, breathing each other in, until Steve pulled back and pressed his lips to Bucky’s. The kiss was sweet, passionate, and over all too quickly. When Bucky left the apartment, his heart sunk and he went to the harbor without looking back.

Bucky decides to go down the memory line and goes to Coney Island. He stays clear of all the rides, going to the beach instead. He and Steve used to come here all the time, wishing they had money to spend in the park. Now, however, money isn’t the problem—it’s the noisiness, the kids, the chaos. Bucky’s skin crawls just hearing the loud conversations and music coming from the rides. There’s too many people for him to relax, and he looks behind his shoulder more often than he usually does. Coming to the beach, he walks down all the way to the water and sinks down there, letting the waves drown out the world behind him. Bucky puts his right palm in the sand and plays with it, his legs crossed in front of him. He makes sure he has all his weapons at hand and covers his metal hand with a glove to prevent any sand getting in between the plates. Bucky takes a deep breath, looking at the ocean. The deep blue of it, bathed in sunshine, reminds him of Steve’s eyes on hot summer days.

At war, all Bucky could think about was Steve. Everyone from his unit had their sweethearts at home and wrote them letters so Bucky pretended to do the same, only his letters were for a certain 5’4” blonde with asthma, bad eyesight, deaf in one ear. He wrote to his family too, but he spared them all atrocities of the war. He wrote about canned food, mud, cold and the guys from his unit that turned out to be great companions. His family wrote back to him too, although he never got a letter from Steve. He started worrying so he asked his parents about the blonde, but they just said he was alright and there was nothing to worry about; his letters were probably lost in the mail. Bucky tried to not give in to worry, but his heart was sinking deeper and deeper with every day that passed. He still fought with all his heart, but it was now more about his unit than about himself; he didn’t care as much about his own safety as he did before. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he figured Steve finally found himself a nice dame and settled down with her. He probably didn’t write to Bucky because he didn’t know how to tell him.

The thing was, the brunet was happy for him. Steve deserved a nice lady who would love him just as much as Bucky did. Bucky knew him and Steve just weren’t meant to be; definitely not in their life times. He made his peace with it a long time ago; about the time he heard the folks from the docks swearing at one of them and calling him a queer and a fag. The guy was fired the next day, and Bucky’s dreams about future with Steve went with him. He was fine with loving Steve in secret for the rest of his life. What he wanted was for Steve to be happy, he didn’t care much about himself no more.

So, when Bucky’s unit was captured, deep down in his heart he was relieved. He felt bad for his new friends, but he himself was glad. He would die at war and Steve would be finally free from his ghost. When the next guy didn’t come back from wherever they were taking them and they took Bucky in, he almost smiled. It was finally his turn to disappear, to stop suffering from a broken heart and a memory of soft lips licking into his. He didn’t even fight that much when they strapped him to a table and started poking his veins with needles. Sure, he put on a show and the damned thing really hurt, but he was mostly waiting for the sweet kiss of death. He didn’t die, though. He couldn’t tell how long he was strapped to that godforsaken table, but he wasn’t dying, that was for sure. He started thrashing and fidgeting, screaming his throat raw, but they only pumped more and more into his bloodstream. After some time he was delirious and nothing seemed real to him anymore. He didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. The only thing he could do was repeat his name and rank, along with his serial number.

Sometimes, he had dreams. Some of them were of him finally closing his eyes for good; some were about blonde hair bathed in sunlight, as a sweet laugh reached his ears and a wide smile blinded his eyes. Some focused on a little girl with long, brown curls and deep brown eyes. He couldn’t tell what was real anymore, so when someone called his name, bright blue eyes looking down on him, he thought he had finally died. He smiled, as the eyes reminded him of someone he knew in his life. Bucky whispered ‘Steve’ as the name resurfaced in his mind. The person looking at him looked exactly like the love of his life, only bigger and stronger, and Bucky wanted to tell them it was a mistake; he had done so many bad things in his life, he shouldn’t be in heaven. But the person pulled at his weak body and sat him up, the relief flooding their features so visible Bucky had to blink. He realized he was far from being dead, and far from being asleep too. Steve was standing there, right in front of him. Although, it wasn’t his Steve. It wasn’t his Stevie. This Steve was big and built like a tank. He didn’t have his glasses on, his bright blue eyes on full display, and there was no rattle coming from his lungs, no wheezing escaping from his lips. He looked like he could snap Bucky’s neck with just one arm, and the suit he was wearing was red, white, and blue. Bucky still didn’t quite trust his eyes, but there was no time for further questions, so he just trusted Steve and followed.

All of Bucky’s questions were answered on their walk back to base, after escaping the facility. Steve, the stubborn idiot he had always been, finally joined the army, agreeing to being pumped with an experimental serum that made him a supersoldier. He explained that he never wrote back, because he wasn’t home; he was traveling all over the States selling bonds to support the troops. When he came to Italy and learned that Bucky was captured, he rushed to his rescue, his gut telling him the brunet wasn’t dead. Bucky was still shaky on his legs, and didn’t trust his mind, so he didn’t ask the question he wanted to know the answer to the most.

Besides, it became clear the moment they marched into base. Agent Carter came up to them, and all Bucky had to do was to take one look at Steve’s face to know the guy’s heart didn’t belong to him anymore. Bucky’s own heart shattered, finally getting the confirmation he wanted and witnessing it with his own eyes. He tried to hide it by chanting ‘Captain America’ although the name left a sour taste in his mouth. He couldn’t look Steve in the eyes, he couldn’t even look at him at all. He quickly sneaked out of the crowd and went back to his tent, throwing himself on his bed. He wasn’t surprised to see that all of his belongings were already packed, ready to be shipped back to his family. Bucky hid his face in his pillow, but the tears didn’t come. Instead, he was overwhelmed with a feeling of emptiness. His little Stevie was no longer his or even little. No, he was big, beefy and painfully not interested in Bucky. The brunet closed his eyes and fisted his hands in the sheets, wishing he had died strapped at that fucking table.

What followed was the worst year and two months of Bucky’s life. After Bucky refused to be honorably discharged, not able to leave Steve’s side no matter how hard he wanted to, he and Steve formed a special ops unit called the Howling Commandos. Steve asked Dugan, Jones, Morita, Falsworth and Dernier to join him, and these dumbasses actually said yes. They were sitting in a dancehall, and all Steve had to do was to buy them another round. Bucky followed too, there was no question. He came to terms with Steve’s obvious feeling for Agent Carter and put on a mask of indifference. It pained him that the blonde was no longer his, but Bucky would still die having Steve in his heart. It was hard, seeing them in briefings, witnessing how awkward and pink the blonde was around her. What was harder though, was maneuvering the situation between Bucky and him. Steve still thought of Bucky as his best friend and the brunet felt terrible each time he had to be in a room alone with him. He and Bucky had to share a tent, as the brunet was Steve’s second in command. He tried to distance himself as much as he could, but he was drawn to the man, always had been. The worst, though, were the nights. They had their separate camp beds and even though all Bucky wanted to do was to join them and fall asleep breathing Steve’s scent in, he didn’t dare to bring that up. They fell asleep on the opposite sides of the tent, with their backs to each other. The space was so small Bucky could pick up Steve’s breathing, and he never fell asleep before the blonde. He was still having troubles getting used to the fact that Steve no longer wheezed, was no longer short of breath. His heartbeat was strong and his breath even. On nights when Bucky had nightmares and woke up screaming, Steve was up, shaking him awake, but they never hugged. Steve never offered any comfort, apart from the weight of his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and the brunet never asked, too ashamed of his feeling for the man. They were inseparable yet again, but this time it wasn’t voluntary. Bucky wished so many times he could just up and leave, not caring about everyone he would had left behind. He couldn’t though. As much as he hated himself for still being in love with Steve and not being able to let him go, he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the man alone in combat zone. He did his part, as the best damn sniper the army had ever seen, and one of the best seconds in command. He didn’t dare talking to Steve about what happened in Azzano, even though the blonde brought up the subject many times. Steve would give him that look, his lips in a small pout, his eyes filled with worry. Bucky always changed the subject, brushing it off. He always said he didn’t remember what had happened, even though he could still feel the burning pain in his veins. He also got stronger, his hearing and vision got better. His reflexes were faster and he didn’t tire as fast as before. Bucky himself was scared of thinking what this could mean, so he pushed it at the back of his mind, where all of his problems lay.

Bucky is startled by a loud shriek somewhere close to him. He almost jumps, his muscles tensing up immediately, his left hand closed in a fist. He looks around, and sees two teens, one of them pushing the other one into the ocean. Bucky shakes his head slowly, letting his muscles relax, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. He stands up, brushing off his pants, and walks back to the subway. He takes the train home and after a while he’s back on the streets, keeping close to the buildings and dodging people in his way. Bucky makes a quick stop at the local florist, deciding to surprise Steve with the same flower he did all those years ago. Back at home, he puts the rose in a tall glass on the coffee table and sinks down on the cushions facing the window. The sun is setting down, the sky painted in different shades of orange, red and pink. The colors are so vibrant, so vivid, they remind him of all the campfires that kept Bucky and the Howlies warm during the war.

One night, at the beginning of 1945, they were deep in the mountains of Austria, having a mission to complete the next day. All the Howlies were seated by the small fire, talking quietly about how much they hated the war. The subject quickly changed to their loved ones that stayed at home. Dum Dum pointed out that Bucky stopped writing letters to his sweetheart, and the brunette glared at him so hard, all the other man promptly shut their mouths. Steve arched his eyebrow at Bucky, who took a drug of his smoke and pretended to not see the confused expression on the blonde’s face. Before Steve could say anything though, Gabe asked him about Peggy. Even in the small shine of the fire, Bucky could tell Steve was as red as a beetroot. His shoulders rose to his ears as he said a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. Bucky thought his heart ached before, but it took that confession for him to learn the real heartbreak. As the Howlies wolf-whistled, clasping Steve on the shoulder, Bucky got up and went further into the woods. His knees gave up pretty quickly and he sank down, his back resting against a tree. He was cold from sitting on the snow, but at that moment he couldn’t care less. He was furious with himself for ever loving Steve, for believing Steve could love him back. His throat closed up, as the anger took the better of him and his fists closed, his fingernails digging hard into his flesh and drawing blood. Bucky was mad at himself, at Carter, but most of all, at Steve. Steve, who promised they’d be together till the end of the line, who promised to be by Bucky’s side no matter what. Bucky’s mind flashed with all the memories from their childhood together. The first day of second grade, when the scrawny new kid pushed his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose, his head down as he went to his desk. The day when Steve told him about his parents, and Bucky promised he’d be there for him no matter what. The day when Steve got into his first fist fight, ending up on the ground with a split lip, bloodied nose and knuckles, and Bucky came to his rescue, promising he’d catch him every time the blonde would fall. The day when they moved out together, and Steve hugged him so hard Bucky was short of breath.

Ever since they had met, Bucky did everything in his power to make Steve happy. He was there for the blonde when no one else was, and that was what he was getting for it. Nothing but cold, snow, and heartbreak. Deep in his mind, Bucky knew his anger was irrational; he knew him and Steve could never really be together the way he wanted to, the way he needed to. He needed Steve like he needed oxygen, and at that moment he felt like he was suffocating. Bucky felt used, spent, and thrown aside. He helped Steve through their crappy childhood just so the blonde could get pumped with some weird ass shit and be all muscle. He fought tooth and nail for Steve’s well-being, and now Carter was getting everything he ever wanted and more. And in the end, Steve didn’t even had the balls to tell him about Carter himself. He never brought the subject up, letting his actions speak for themselves. Hell, Steve even had Carter’s picture in his compass, she was his true North.

Bucky put his fist into his mouth to not make any sound as his eyes started to water. He felt like someone ripped his heart right out of his chest, leaving a gaping hole in its place. He pulled up his knees and hid his face in them, his breath heavy and shaky. He didn’t know what to do, but most of all he didn’t know how to face Steve. How could he? The memory of their last morning together, Steve’s small body in his lap and his lips pressed into Bucky’s, was still fresh in his mind. When he closed his eyes, he could still vividly remember kissing Steve’s hand, their fingers entwined. It seemed like a day before; meanwhile, Steve found a woman he could have a future with. Bucky was happy for him, he was. He just wished he wasn’t there to witness it. He thought he could bear it. He thought seeing Steve being loved for who he was, even if not by Bucky, would make him over the moon. Steve deserved best, and Bucky never was that option. He knew there would come a time when they had to part ways, get married. Bucky just liked to assume it would come later than sooner. He definitely didn’t think that it would happen there, in an active war zone.

Walking back to their tent, Bucky wished, for what seemed like a hundred time, that his suffering ended on Zola’s table.

Little did Bucky know that he hadn’t had much time with Steve left. After sneaking inside, and throwing his sleeping back over himself as quietly as he could, Bucky stayed up all night. He was dead on his feet the next day, but it was supposed to be a simple task. The train with Zola was speeding through the mountains. All they had to do was enter and bring the scientist back to the camp. If Bucky made himself a promise to kill the fucker on sight, no one had to know.

However, what happened was something entirely different. The train turned out to be a trap, which Bucky realized the minute they entered. He shot the goons he could, but he didn’t see the last one coming. When the man turned his weapon in Steve’s direction and the blonde fell down, Bucky didn’t think straight. He grabbed Steve’s shield and started shooting. The bullets went flying, but the man had already fired his weapon, throwing Bucky of balance and off the train. He held onto the railing with all the strength he could muster and when Steve extended his hand to him, Bucky tried to catch it. A thought crossed his mind, though.

Why?

The fall would kill him for sure and then Steve could be with Carter without Bucky walking in their shadow. Steve would be finally free of him, and Bucky wouldn’t have to look at the man he loved the most walk away with a woman the brunet had no chance against. The railing was more and more wobbly, and, pretending to reach out further, Bucky twisted his other hand just the right amount. The railing finally came off, taking him down.

Bucky fell screaming.

Bucky closes his eyes, a single tear streaming down his face. He doesn’t like remembering what happened after the fall. The sun is set now, and there is still no sign of Steve. Bucky pulls out his phone and quickly checks the tags again—the Avengers are still nowhere near the headlines. He lets out a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He knows no news is good news, but he still wishes he had any information about Steve’s mission. It’s not like he can ask anyone, though. Almost no one knows Bucky’s back—sure, those who track Hydra probably realised their favorite asset went rogue, but the world has no idea Bucky Barnes is back from the dead. He guesses Steve hasn’t told many people, as he confessed he hasn’t told any of his teammates, besides Wilson. With everything that happened, most of the Avengers, and definitely Stark, would want to see him dead. However, Bucky can’t blame them; even though he was brainwashed and unaware of what he was doing, he’s still responsible for what he did. And he did a lot. Killing Stark’s parents is just the tip of the iceberg.

Bucky swears as he enters his room, laying down on his bed. The memories are flooding his mind, and there is nothing he can do, but to relieve them all over again.

He lost consciousness the moment his body hit the ground. In a lucid moment, he felt being dragged through the snow. He doesn’t remember the pain, the blood loss, the concussion. He was out of it most of the time, and the next thing he remembers is being strapped to yet another table. Then, everything blurs and he can't tell what happened when. Bucky recalls the pain, the feeling of having every single bone in his body broken. He remembers his veins burning after receiving another injections and being prodded with needles. Bucky can still feel the pain in his right wrist and left stump, that he still had then, after struggling to get out of metal chains that they used to strap him to the chair. He remembers metal hoop, closing around his forehead, as they electrocuted his brain. Bucky remembers being beaten unconscious, stripped naked and taken advantage of. He can’t forget being chained to the wall when they sprayed his body with ice cold water from a hose. They would feed him through IV drips, not bothering to sanitize them first, which gave him infections and caused him to throw up with blood. He recalls being trained to fight, to shoot, to snap necks with his tights. They often locked him in a cell with no light inside and made him fight with their best soldiers. When he won, they patched him up and let him spend the night in a room with a urinal. If he lost, they left him bleeding in a cell, chained to a wall, often with broken bones and deep wounds. His body healed itself faster then, and he screamed his throat raw when broken bones were knitting themselves together, often in a wrong way. Every time that happened, they would break them over and over again, until they were knitted right.

What Bucky remembers most, was his last day of consciousness before being put on ice. They woke him up with a hose and left him shivering on the bare ground for a couple hours. Then, they took him into a room and strapped to a metal table. He was naked, the belts cutting into his skin. They cut off his stump all the way to his shoulder with a saw, without giving him any drugs. He kept losing consciousness from pain and, to keep him awake, they spilled buckets of ice cold water over his head. Then, they put the metal arm on him, the wires causing electroshocks. When they finally sedated Bucky, he was already barely breathing from pain and exhaustion. They woke him up with another cold shower, causing him to scream, and told him to move the arm. He immediately grabbed the guy closest to him by his throat and, closing his fist, choked him to death. He got beaten and hose-sprayed for that, and, at that point, he couldn’t care less if he lived or not. The last thing he remembers from that time, is the face of Zola, leaning over him, and telling Bucky he’d be the new fist of Hydra. After that, there was only ice, cold, and murders.

Remembering everything that have been done to him leaves Bucky shaking, his clothes soaking with sweat. He curses at everything and everyone that brought him to the point he is now—the draft, the war, Hydra, and himself. He should’ve died a long time ago; instead, he’s a ghost of the past, haunting Steve’s future. Steve would be so much better without him, and yet Bucky can’t bring himself to leave. He’s selfish like that—Steve is, and always was, Bucky’s everything. Bucky cared for him, fought for him, even diedfor him. Without Steve, Bucky’s life would be empty, pointless. So he stays, stays for his own good. He lived without Steve once, and he’d rather die than do it again.

Besides, Bucky knows Steve is the only person that keeps him from being the Soldier again. If not for the blonde, Bucky would probably still be Hydra’s puppet, not able to make any decision and out of control of his mind and body. And even though he knows depending on one person so hard cannot be good for him, Bucky couldn’t care less. He knows all too well what he’s capable of without Steve in his life.

The memories of what he had done came to him only after the Potomac. Captain America’s blue eyes looking up at him, one almost swollen shut, reminded him of someone he knew in another life. The Soldier hesitated with his fist over the blonde, ready to deliver the final blow, when the Captain said those words. Till the end of the line. It made some distant part of the Soldier’s brain scream bloody murder, and, before he knew what was happening, the rail under them gave out and fell down. The Soldier managed to grab another rail, but the Captain fell like a puppet. The Soldier looked down at his falling body, trying to make sense of what his mind was screaming at him. One part wanted to let the Captain drown and complete his mission; the other was forcing him to go down too, and save the man. With every second that had passed, the other part of his brain was getting more and more frantic, knowing there wasn’t much time left. The Soldier closed his eyes and let go.

He dove and his metal fist closed over the Captain’s arm and the Soldier swam up. He got out of the river and looked over the Captain’s body. The blonde wasn’t breathing, so he leaned down and performed CPR on him, until the man started coughing up water. The Soldier sat next to him, taking heavy breaths as his head span from the lack of oxygen. When his breath finally stabilized, he closed his eyes and turned his mind back on. The Soldier’s part was telling him to run and find his handlers; the other part insisted on staying and making sure the Captain was alive. He tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowed, and let the other part talk. He was immediately bombarded with information.

His name was James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. He was a sergeant in the 107th.

The Captain’s name was Steven Grant Rogers. He was a captain in the 107th.

They grew up together. They fought together.

Barnes died alone.

He opened his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath. The memories were floating his mind and he fisted his hands in his hair, his head spinning. It was too much, his breath was erratic. He shook his head, letting the Soldier’s part come forward. It told him to run; Barnes’ part begged him to stay. Hide, he decided, at least until he could figure his brain out. Barnes’ part conceded, letting the Soldier take them someplace safe. He stayed low until the night came. When it got dark, he stole a first-aid kit from the first car he found and went to an abandoned warehouse, making sure no one was tracking him. Once sure, he stripped from his gear and treated his wounds. He didn’t have any civilian clothes, so after putting his gear back on and making sure all his weapons were on hand, he went out again and broke into a thrift shop. He took a backpack and filled it up with clothes and a cap, then grabbed some gloves and a jacket. He went back to the warehouse and changed, then left again, looking for another place. He found an abandoned bungalow, with broken windows and a creaky floor, but decided it would do for a day. He decided to sleep, the exhaustion of the fight and later revelation finally catching up to him. He suppressed Barnes’ part of his brain, that was trying to make him remember, and let the Soldier took over as he sat himself on the floor, hidden from any windows and doors. He drew out his handgun and, keeping it in his right hand, rested it in his lap. Then, he slipped into slumber.

When he woke up, the place was quiet. Suppressing Barnes yet again, the Soldier checked the bungalow and only after he made sure he was safe, he came back to his position, resting his back against the wall. Keeping his eyes open, he let Barnes took over. He was immediately bombarded with the memories of his past life. The images of him, young and inexperienced floated in front of his eyes. He saw his family, his home, the ratty apartment he moved into later. He saw Steve, the scrawny kid with big blue eyes and bangs falling into his eyes, and the beefy man, leading his unit through an active warzone. He saw the Howlies, the trenches, the nights he spent by Steve’s bed when the man was sick and delirious with fever. He saw himself working at the docks, walking down the streets of Brooklyn, and burying his nose in yet another fantasy novel. He saw Winifred busying herself in the kitchen, George reading the newspaper and Becca jumping on the couch. What stroke him the most, was the image of him and little Steve, sitting on their bed, kissing. He took a deep breath as his past feelings hit him hard. His heart thrummed as the memory of butterflies exploding in his stomach resurfaced. He remembered entwining their fingers together, running his hands through Steve’s hair, tucking the blonde closer to him at nights. His breath was shaky as he recalled taking Steve in his arms and spinning him around in their tiny apartment, teaching him how to dance.

His throat was already closing up from the flood of emotions, when his brain decided to torture him some more. The next memory that resurfaced was the moment they marched back into camp after Steve rescued him. Agent Carter came up to them and the blonde’s cheeks turned pink. His heart sunk deeper and deeper as he recalled all the times Steve and Carter flirted with each other. The memory of Carter coming into the dancehall they were at and not sparing him a second glance, having eyes only for Steve, hit him and a broken sob escaped his throat. The Soldier’s part of his mind was screaming at him to not make any sounds as his eyes started to water. He remembered the night right before he fell, Steve admitting that there was something between him and Carter. He remembered the fury he felt, the resignation, despair. He looked down and his hands and the image of reaching out for Steve’s hand as well as twisting the other, letting himself fall came to his mind. He drew in a shaky breath, realizing what he did. Realizing he’d rather die and let Steve be happy than live and be the cause of Steve’s worry.

He blinked, quieting both parts of his mind. He should have died. Why was he alive, then?

The Soldier rushed with answers, but he suppressed it for a little while longer. Where was he? And in what year? And why he had no recollection of Carter, even though he could remember all of his targets associated with the Captain: the Widow, the Falcon, Fury.

He spent the next few days hiding low and gathering all information that he could. During the day, he would try to piece together what both parts of his brain were telling him; during the night, he would go out and look for any newspaper, or book, he could lay his hands on. Once he vaguely established it was 2014 and all of Hydra’s files were out in the open for anyone to see, he changed locations again, choosing an empty warehouse at the outskirts of the city. To Barnes, everything was new, different and confusing. The Soldier knew how to move around, how to blend in, how to use the modern technology and weapons. He went out one night and stole someone’s phone, looking up everything he could on Captain America. Once he knew the guy was alive and safe, he kept looking further for his history. The Internet was confusing even to the Soldier, so when he saw an ad for Captain’s exhibition at the Smithsonian, he threw the phone to the trash and came back to his safe-house. The next day, he went to the museum and spent there a couple hours, filling in the blanks between Barnes’ and the Soldier’s memory. He learned that Steve died only a couple months after him, crashing a plane into the ocean. They found him only three years before and the man immediately took on his position as the leader of the Avengers. The rest of the Howlies survived the war, which they eventually won. Carter got married and funded SHIELD; according to the museum, she was still alive. He went back to hiding, lifting up another phone on his way back. He searched through Hydra’s leaked files and the Soldier let him know there were people and facilities that weren’t mentioned in them. After another couple of days of gathering and processing information, he knew enough about himself, his past and the state of the world.

His name was Bucky Barnes, even though most of the world knew him now as the Winter Soldier. He was credited with over two dozens assassinations in the last fifty years, though the Soldier told him the number was way higher than that. Even though the years were blurry, he remembered every kill, every mission. As the Winter Soldier, he was feared by almost everyone in the world; as Bucky Barnes, he was barely mentioned in the history books. Those who knew his real name were mostly referring to him as Captain’s childhood friend or just another one of the Howlies. No one really knew his history with Steve and no one really cared. Steve was elevated to the role of national hero and a role model for every American; Barnes was mostly forgotten. It pained him to realize that while Steve was viewed almost as a saint, Barnes was just another soldier who died in the war. No one looked for his body. Except for his family, probably no one came to his funeral either. Only Steve knew how much Barnes had done for him, but the man didn’t mention his name even once since he came out of the ice. He knew, since he watched almost every interview with the star-spangled man. He was mad, furious even. Nobody cared about him, no one but his family, who were then long dead. His blood boiled one night and he wanted nothing more than to go on confront Steve. Both parts of his mind stopped him then. The Soldier, because it would bring too much attention to him, while Hydra was still out there; Barnes, because it was Steve and going to him would put him in danger.

So, he made a promise to himself and both parts of his mind. He wouldn’t come near Steve until all of Hydra was dead and blown up; until he wiped them from the face of the Earth. Only then, would he reach out to Steve and try to rebuild their relation. He didn’t even care if Steve loved him back; he didn’t deserve it anyway. All he knew, and both parts of him agreed, was that he still had feelings for the blonde, and he still needed him as much as he needed to breathe. Maybe Steve didn’t want to have anything to do with him; he would be right. He was an assassin, a traitor, a cold-blooded murderer. He had done so many awful things in his life, he was way past the point of redemption. He didn’t deserve a second chance, but he had got it, and he wanted to make the best of it.

He was both Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier, and they both wanted two things: bring an end to Hydra and make sure Steve Rogers was safe.

Bucky managed to fall asleep sometime late at night. When he wakes, the sun is up and shining through the blinds, the shadows dancing on the wall opposite the window. Bucky blinks, looking up at the ceiling and listening—the apartment is quiet, which means Steve still hasn’t come back. Bucky rolls out of bed, his sweaty clothes sticking to his body, and runs his right hand through his hair. He puts it in a bun atop his head on his way to the bathroom and takes a long, hot shower to get rid of the tension left in his muscles. Bucky allows himself to relax, choosing Steve’s fancy coconut shower gel, instead of his usual soap. He wants to let his hair be, but decides against it, and washes it too. Once he’s all clean, he stands under the warm spray of water for a few more minutes, taking deep breaths and closing his eyes, his head leaning against the tiles. Steve’s apartment has an unlimited supply of hot water, something they didn’t have back in the day, and Bucky lets himself take advantage of it every once in a while. A couple minutes pass, then he steps out of the shower and dries himself, wrapping a towel around his midsection. He dries and combs his hair, then shaves, wiping the mirror clear of the steam first. When satisfied with the outcome, Bucky quickly applies some aftershave and leaves the bathroom, going back to his bedroom. He pulls out a pair of black boxer briefs and puts them on, then decides on black sweatpants and a burgundy henley, as he won’t have to go out today. After getting dressed, Bucky quickly checks the news for any new Avengers alerts. With nothing new, he sighs, his shoulders slumping a bit. Steve should’ve been home two days ago. Bucky can’t help but worry.

He goes to the kitchen and puts on the coffee pot. Waiting for it to brew, he peels another orange, popping the slices straight into his mouth. When the coffee is done, Bucky pours himself a cup and goes to sit on the floor cushions. He looks out at the Brooklyn skyline, his mind wandering. He thinks of little Steve, with mouth too big for his own good; of his parents, sitting together on a couch and listening to the radio every Sunday after dinner; of Becca, and her dark ponytails tied with pink ribbon, jumping on a playground. Most importantly, though, he thinks of himself and Steve, of what they’ve been through, and where they are now, when he’s finally free of Hydra.

Bucky’s quest against Hydra started then. He traveled all around the world, tracking down forgotten facilities and living Hydra members. First, he took care of all of his old handlers who were somehow still alive. Then, he dealt with those who knew too much about him, even though they weren’t the ones who wiped his mind and prepared him for missions. He drained Hydra’s bank accounts, stashing the money in his safe houses, and took all the useful weaponry he could before blowing up old facilities. During this time, he also kept track of Steve and the rest of the Avengers. Most of them were fighting with the threats to the world or terrorists; Steve and the Falcon were looking for him, taking care of the remaining Hydra targets that didn’t go down with the rest of the ship. He was somehow grateful for the help, as they obviously knew he was doing the same thing.

Once, they almost caught him. It was in Poland, an old, military base that was no longer in use. Hydra agents made it their hiding spot, keeping all the information about the Winter Soldier project there. It was close to Russia, in case they needed to transfer more files quickly, but at the same time far enough in any case of emergency. Bucky blew up all the facilities in Russia, knowing that Hydra would transfer all their important intel to Poland. He stayed low for a week, letting them think he left and had no knowledge of the Polish facility. Once he was certain all the people he wanted gone were there, as well as all their data on him and his past, he wanted to make a move. He neared the base heavily armed, ready to blow it all to hell. When he entered, he knew something was off immediately. Some Hydra goons were already dead, some were trying to escape, so he shot them with his silenced gun as to not draw any unwanted attention. He went further into the facility, a gun steady in his hand. Bucky kept to the shadows, even though all the cameras were dismantled. When he came close to the control room, he heard voices. He stopped by the doors, breathing quietly and drawing his gun up. He heard some papers being shuffled, and a man’s voice pleading, saying he didn’t know the whereabouts of someone. Next, he heard the Falcon calling out to Steve; his footsteps and a sound of a neck being broken followed. The Captain exhaled heavily and murmured something about another dead end. Bucky ducked into a dark hallway, as two pair of boots came closer the doors. He held his breath, as both Steve and the Falcon left the control room, their hands stuffed with files and loose documents. Bucky swore in his head, realizing they probably took the intel he wanted. Once they were far enough, he went into the room and made sure everyone inside was dead. He planted bombs everywhere he could, and then swept the entire facility again for any survivors. After he was satisfied, he left the base, careful to not come across Steve or his friend. When he made sure they wouldn’t be able to follow him, he pushed the trigger button and watched the flames explode.

After that, there were only two Hydra bases left: one in Europe and one in Asia. He planned to deal with those as soon as he could, wanting nothing more than to start living his life without the constant need of looking after his shoulder. However, first he tracked down where Steve and the Falcon were hiding, and broke into their room when they were out looking for him. He knew Steve would want to stay in Poland for a couple of extra days after Bucky made his presence known by blowing up that base. He quickly looked through the files they had gathered, needing to know if he’d missed anything during his search for Hydra’s hiding spots. The documents mentioned a facility in the US, one he hadn’t come across before. The Soldier’s part of his brain didn’t know about that one either, so Bucky knew he had to visit the remaining two bases before Steve and the Falcon. He left the room without a single glance at the file on him, not wanting to distract himself. Bucky left Poland the same night, going straight to Romania. He knew he should rest and regroup, but he didn’t want to lose any time. He went straight to the base, finding all the remaining European Hydra agents there, as they just found out about his raid in Poland and wanted to plan their strategy. He left the base in flames in his wake, after learning where the last of American Hydra was hiding.

When Bucky finally found himself in Cambodia, he was dead on his feet. He had barely any weapons on him and his body hurt everywhere. Barnes’ part of his brain was telling him to deal with Hydra as soon as possible and come back home; the Soldier insisted on taking some time to heal and think strategy as the base was one of the biggest and most challenging. Bucky listened to both, laying low for a while to let his body rest, and making plans were to go and what to do when he’d come back to the States. During the day, he was doing research and training his body for a fight; during the night, he stole what weapon he could and watched the base to make sure everything would go smoothly and according to plan. When the time came, he went to the facility bringing a rain of bullets with him. He wanted to make his presence known, to make them realize their time had come. Hydra was fighting him with all the power they had, but it wasn’t enough; he was the Winter Soldier after all. He took a bullet to his thigh and the fucker who shot him nearly pissed himself after realizing what he had done. Bucky only smiled at him, leaving the guy for last. After killing everyone but the man, Bucky took off his mask and goggles, coming up to him slowly, predatory. The guy cried and begged, shaking from fear. Bucky clicked his tongue at him, running his metal arm softly through the man’s hair, shushing him. Then, he choked the guy to death, dropping his dead body on the floor. Bucky looked around, the realization that he could finally go back to America hitting him hard, and he laughed. He left the building and triggered the bombs, a smile playing on his face.

Bucky came back home a week later, making sure no one was tracking him first. He knew there wasn’t anyone to follow him, but the Soldier preferred to be safe than sorry and he agreed. Upon arriving back to the States, he checked the news first, wanting to know if Steve was back already. Bucky quickly learned the Avengers needed him for some huge government clusterfuck in DC, so he traveled to Brooklyn with a bounce in his step. Bucky found some dump to rent near the last Hydra base, and spent another week monitoring it, gaining intel, and restoring his weaponry. He made sure he had everything he needed before raiding the base; it was the last of Hydra standing and he’d rather die fighting them than let any of them slip through his fingers. He found out that they were planning a meeting in a week that would include all remaining agents. During that week he trained hard, while also keeping tabs on Steve. Bucky followed the blonde one night and found out where he lived; he filed that information for later, knowing he had to be focused on the mission on hand. When the night came, he was armed to his teeth with guns, knives, bombs and tasers. He put on his mask and goggles, slipping into the night and coming right up the front doors of Hydra. The security was tight and he wanted at least a small element of surprise, so he killed the agents at the front of the base quickly, quietly. Once inside, he made sure all the doors were locked so no one could escape. Only after, he made his presence known by taking off the silencer from his gun and throwing bodies left and right. He kicked down every door he passed, making sure not a single agent was left breathing. Bucky was bleeding before he barreled through the doors to the central room, but his entrance still caused fear and panic. Upon entering, at least ten guns were trained on him, but the bullets bounced off his metal arm. He started throwing knives and shooting his guns, but he still took three bullets. Every one of them made him more furious, but he stayed focused and used the anger to complete the mission. The last three agents turned out to be the toughest. Bucky had to fight them with all the strength he had, and yet they managed to throw him off balance and dislocate his shoulder. He screamed from pain and saw red. Bucky grabbed the first one with his metal arm and threw him at the wall so hard the man’s spine crushed and he died instantly. It made the last two stop in their tracks and that was all Bucky needed. He threw his emptied gun at the second one, hitting him between the eyes and the man sank to the floor. Bucky jumped to him immediately and closed his metal fist around the guy’s throat, choking him to death. The third agent used that moment to slam a chair onto Bucky’s head and he saw stars, collapsing onto the floor next to the body. The man threw himself on him, but Bucky regained his composure quickly and closed his legs around the agent’s waist. He twisted the man, crushing his ribs between his thighs, and snapped his neck with his left arm. Kicking the body away, Bucky laid on the floor, taking deep breaths. He was bleeding badly, his right arm was limp and his head spun from the impact of the chair. Bucky stood up on wobbly legs and looked around. the last of Hydra was laying dead around him. He threw his remaining bombs behind himself as he exited the room and pushed the trigger button as soon as he was out the building. The ground shook from the impact and Bucky had to steady himself against a brick wall in one of the back alleys. He could hear the sirens wailing, so he clenched his teeth and, barely standing upright, walked all the way to Steve’s apartment building. Bucky climbed the stairs, dripping blood all over the floors, and raised his metal fist to knock. When Steve opened, shock and confusion on his face, Bucky just collapsed on the floor, his legs finally giving up. The Soldier’s part of his mind was screaming at him to stay awake as he could still be in danger; Barnes’ part assured him nothing bad could happen as long as he was with Steve.

Bucky trusted the second part of his brain and closed his eyes, passing out.

without me

Chapter 1