Chapter 3
"All I want is nothing more
To hear you knocking at my door
'Cause if I could see your face once more
I could die as a happy man I'm sure
I lay in tears in bed all night
Alone without you by my side
But If you loved me
Why did you leave me"
Medical wing isn’t exactly a wing it’s more like two rooms on the Westside of the building and a third room for “emergency surgeries”. Bucky stays in one of the two rooms, the other vacant. It’s big, roomy, closer to the size of a tiny apartment than a hospital room. There’s a bed, bathroom, chairs in the corner by a window to look out on.
Bucky’s body recovers, or recovers as much as it can on its own as Bucky keeps refusing any kind of help. He wakes up with an IV in his arm that he carefully takes out only to find it replaced the next time he wakes up. Tony stops by once with a few other people in lab coats Bucky doesn’t recall seeing before. He gets a temporary arm, while Stark promises to work on a new one. Tony asks him what year it is several times and seems satisfied with his answer. They determine his brain isn’t fried more than it already had been and come to the conclusion that his minor memory loss is mostly from the lack of sleep and sustenance but Bucky still can’t remember. He can’t remember why he was running. He can’t remember why he needed to find Steve. He can’t remember what happened to him when he was missing. The best thing he can think of doing right now is to stay where he is. Tony is probably the safest bet for him currently and he still wasn’t that functional. An ex assassin with memory loss was never a good thing. He tried to tell Tony about Steve again on their visit but everything was still so rushed and Bucky couldn’t get the words out and to be honest he still not even sure what is real.
A day or two passes with no visitors and Bucky realizes that’s it. He’s alone here but he’s too tired to escape and God know what would happen to him if he did. He’s about to give up and beg the AI for a book or newspaper when he hears a knock on the door. It’s odd because Tony or anyone else really would just barge in. His fight or flight instincts should kick in but they seem to be malfunctioning too. He doesn’t know if he should call out a “yeah” or just go open the door. Before he decides he watches the door slowly open. He goes for his nightstand some kind of instinct finally kicking in but there’s no weapon there. Not that he’s sure he could use if if he needed to anyway.
He sees blonde hair peak in the corner of the door and his body calms down, it knowing who was behind it before he consciously did.
“S-Steve?”
“Hey.” Steve says as he moves his body through the door. He smiles at Bucky.
Maybe it was a dream Bucky thinks Maybe it was all a dream.
“How are you feeling?” Steve asks, shyly.
“I’m...okay. I’m okay.” Bucky nods. Steve was acting less weird, he’s visiting him. Maybe...
“Tony got pissy I wasn’t visiting you. Don’t know what that’s all about.”
Because you’re you and you know you would visit me. Because you wouldn’t leave me. Because you remember me and-
“He told me you aren’t currently more messed up then you were before...whatever that means,” Steve continues.
“You- you don’t know?”
“It’s not like I read your file or anything.” And there it is.
“You don’t remember.” Bucky says to himself but it’s not quiet enough.
“Remember what?”
“Me.”
“Jesus Christ.” Steve sighs. He rubs his neck and closes his eyes and sighs again. “Look,” Steve starts, getting closer to Bucky, sitting on the bed by him. “I respect you. I do. All you did for the country and…” Steve stops for a second biting his lip. “I know. I know how bad shit is for Veterans. I know about PTSD and how that can mess someone up, I know. And I know how the country couldn’t give two shits about you and others like you and I’m sorry.”
Bucky swallows and nods, his eyes suddenly watering. He tries to turn away before his tears spill from his eyes but he’s too late. He’s not crying because of what Steve said though he’s glad Steve still has his kindness for strangers he’s crying because he really thought, he really was so sure the events of the days past were a dream. That Steve still knows him and loves him and all it was was a nightmare.
“I understand why you maybe latched on to me,” Steve continues. “You think Captain America is this symbol of maybe what America should be and I wish it was but I’m just a person. I’m just one person.”
And Bucky lets his tears fall more because Steve doesn’t understand, or he doesn’t know. Bucky couldn’t give two shits about “Captain America”. He just wants Steve Rogers. Just Steve Rogers. That’s all he needed.
He feels Steve touch his leg as to offer comfort but Bucky flinches because it’s not who he needs. Bucky wraps his right arm in front of his face, gripping his left shoulder.
“I should go,” Steve says and Bucky feels the bed dip as he gets up but he can’t say anything, can’t protest, just silently beg that despite everything Steve will still come back.
He nods at Steve before burying his face in the insert of his right elbow. He hears the door open and thinks Steve’s gone before he hears his voice again.
“I’ll come back. Check in in a day or two to see how you are.” He suggests. If Bucky had any objectifications he would just go on his way.
“Okay,” Bucky lets out softly and Steve thankfully takes that as a welcome to come back.
He does just that the next day, and the next and after that until it has been a week since the incident in what Bucky supposes was just Steve's apartment. Well Steve and whatever his boyfriend’s name was. A name Bucky never got or heard Steve talk about. Mostly the visits are short with Steve popping in to ‘check on’ Bucky, sometimes bringing in magazines or a newspaper with him. They went on a walk once but it was deemed to awkward in a silent vote so that quickly stopped. What didn’t stop, however, was the dreams.
Bucky has dreams every night, sometimes multiple times a night, and all about Steve. Steve and him throughout their lives. Some of it didn’t make sense but put together it did. Kind of like a puzzle. It didn’t take much for Bucky to realize theses dreams weren’t just dreams but memories. Real memories of them. He comes to the conclusion he always knew deep down. He’s not messed up. Steve is. Something happened to Steve and maybe that’s what Bucky was running to him for. Maybe that’s why Bucky needed to find him as soon as he could on that horrible day. Sometimes the dreams...or rather memory recall come in the form of nightmares. Nightmares that don't let him get any sleep and he’s back to square one in the fatigue department.
Steve visits after a night of non stop nightmares.
“I don't remember you because I don’t know you. I was never real to you. Just in your head. We were never a thing, James.” Steve says aggressively after another day of Bucky having hope that maybe this time when he tells him Steve will remember him.
“If you were never-If WE were never real...then why do I keep having dreams about us?”
“I don’t know what to say to that. You clearly had some fixation on me before we met or something. Could just be your subconscious wanting us to be something we’re not," Steve says. Bucky grips his head in frustration and noticed Steve distance himself towards the door.
“No. It can’t be that. It’s so vivid. It’s like memories. Stuff I shouldn’t know..” Bucky says, dropping his hands down, his eyes begging for the Steve somewhere in the man in front of him to come out. For Steve to remember them.
“What kind of stuff?” Steve asks and Bucky can't quite read his face.
“Our childhood! Running together playing together. Why would I remember you as a kid? Why would I remember your mom?”
Bucky can tell Steve feels uneasy though he hopes it’s because he realizes Bucky has to know him if he knew all that stuff ...but Bucky is wrong.
Steve backs away farther from him. “Look I don’t know what shit you were up to when you were missing or what you were doing before. Don’t think I don’t realize how odd it is that Tony seems to know you. You probably went into his archives of me while you were doing whatever it is you were doing here.” Steve's voice starts to raise.
“I-”
“I find it a little alarming you won’t let it go as if I’m the one that doesn’t remember when you’re the one who-” Steve realizes he’s raising his voice too much and that really isn’t the best way to deal with the situation. “You’re the one who…” he says quieter now but it still isn't right.
The one who’s messed up. The one who’s been tortured. Who’s had his memory wiped before. Though maybe this Steve is unaware of those besides the first one, clearly.
“The one who’s fucked up...yeah.” Bucky finishes for him.
Steve notices Bucky look defeated and Steve wants so badly to take it back but to him is he wrong? He was clearly unstable he couldn’t go off believing his delusions. He watches the brunette move away from him and retreat to the corner of the room by the window. Steve takes that as his cue to leave.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to have the only person that keeps you going not remember who you are?” Bucky speaks out, still looking outside the window as Steve is about to grab the door handle.
“I guess not.” Steve says then after a beat. “And neither do you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me-” Bucky turns around sharply.
“Look I have to go.” Steve cuts him off and turns around to face the stranger again.
“Oh you have to go. Where exactly do you have to go?” Bucky’s voice raises as he walks back towards Steve.
“Excuse me?” Steve says, crossing his arms, meeting Bucky in the middle of the room.
“Where do you have to go every night when I’m not there.” Bucky is so close to Steve’s face now Steve can see his eyes, full of anger and hurt, betrayal and frustration.
“That’s enough.” Steve says quieter.
“What is it you do every night?”
“I said that’s enough, James!” Steve yells out.
“Stop calling me James!” Bucky yells louder.
“That’s your fuckin name!”
“You know what people call me! You know! Deep in there somewhere," Bucky points to Steve's chest, still to far to physically touch him. "You fucking know!” He pretends not to notice Steve step further away from him again.
“All I know about you is your names is James Buchanan Barnes." Steve starts. "You’re ex military. You were a POW and God knows what happened to you when you came home." He shakes his head. "God knows why you think I know you. Why you think whatever you think about me!”
“You don't care.” It’s a statement, softer now.
“About?”
“Me.”
Steve lets his crossed arms loosen a little, but still doesn't drop them. “I don’t know you enough to.”
“Then can I ask one thing?”
Steve sighs and looks down to the floor. “What is it?”
“If you don’t care about me then why do you keep visiting?” Bucky asks
“What?” Steve almost looks offended.
“Why do you keep bothering to see me?” Bucky doesn’t want to push it as he doesn’t want Steve to stop even though it pains him each time he doesn’t see his eyes light up when he sees him, how he doesn’t call him Buck, how he doesn’t seem to ...smile at all.
“Admit there’s something drawing you here.” Bucky continues when Steve stays silent.
“I can’t be concerned about someone that seemed to come to me for help?” Steve asks finally.
“Even after you find out I’m okay?”
Steve bites his lip and shakes his head, deciding. “Fine then. I won’t visit anymore.”
“No. That’s not what I want.”
Steve turns to towards the door again. “I have to go.”
“Steve, please .”
“I said I have to go!”
“But am I going to see you again?" Bucky asks desperately.
Silence.
“Steve! Am I going to see you again?” Bucky practically begs.
“Bye, James.”
“No please.” Steve takes off to the door and Bucky follows him. “Steve wait.” He touches the blonde’s shoulder and Steve stops. Memories flash by him almost too quickly to determine. It’s him, he’s with a brunette boy, they’re laughing. He’s getting beat up in an alley, someone comes to save him. A face is about to come into view before he shakes his head and the visions vanish.
“Steve?” James’ voice comes to him now, the present. “Did you see something? Did you feel-”
Steve turns back to him angry. “Never touch me again.” He says sternly.
Bucky shrinks in on himself and walks away, slowly. Steve exits the room, the door slamming behind him.