Steve was curled up next to Bucky on the bed, stroking his hand through the long strands of Bucky's hair. The two were reminiscing about times gone by, laughing at the plights of their younger selves. At one point, Bucky had nearly fallen off the side of the bed in a fit of laughter; indeed, it was only Steve's quick reflex that stopped Bucky's nose from accounting itself with the carpet. The memory that had brought such mirth was a cherished one of Steve's. It was one of a long list of ill-advised back alley fights, but the thing that sold the tale was the fact that Steve had been fighting a girl nearly half his age. This was something Bucky would never let Steve forget, especially since Steve lost the fight.
Still chuckling, Bucky started to recall further into that year, before coming to a startling, awful memory. He looked up at Steve. "You got... Sick that fall," he said, an ever so slight questioning lilt to his voice.
Even after all his progress, he still looked up to his best friend for confirmation of his jumbled memories, ensuring that he hasn't gotten the details wrong. Or worse, that the memory was false to begin with. Steve looked a bit startled by the statement, not expecting the change in conversation. But after a beat, he nodded, confirming it for his friend.
"I remember..." Bucky paused, as he always did when it came to voicing any memory in this way. "I remember you got real sick. I thought you were gonna die."
Steve swallowed and looked up at the ceiling for a second. That fall was very much a blur for him, a mixture of pain, chills, and fever induced hallucinations. "Thought-" he stopped to clear his throat. "We all thought I was going to die, Buck. Ma did, you did, neighbors did. Hell, the doctors always thought I was gonna die. Called the priest down for Last Rites at least a dozen times in as many years."
Bucky furrowed his brow. He remembered that Fall a little too well, which probably meant the soldier had remembered it too. Why the soldier would have clung to it, he couldn't know, but perhaps it was something that couldn't be frozen out.
"You were- you were in a lot of pain. Kept beggin' me 'make it stop, please,' moanin' through the night 'cause of the pain. I remember- I remember feelin' so helpless, just watching you struggle with breathing. I remember thinking 'god, how much pain must you be in if it hurts to goddam breathe?'"
Steve sighed. He didn't want the two of them to have to go through this memory. Not now, on a happy night, not ever. But far be it for him to deny Bucky the chance to talk through his memories. Bucky had been doing so well recently, remembering more and more scenes and details. Steve was determined to help him recover his life, and if that meant walking through a few painful tines, Steve would do it in a heart beat.
"I didn't- I didn't die, Buck, though. I'm still here. I made it through."
But the words were not reaching Bucky, at least not in the way Steve had hoped.
"I- you didn't die. I prayed, Stevie. Did I ever tell you that? That one really bad night, when we were sure you wouldn't be there the next morning? I prayed so goddam much, God musta thought he won some sorta lottery."
Steve's heart clutched. Bucky, who despite being around religion and church his whole life, had never actively spoken to God in the years Steve knew him. Steve could count on one hand the amount of times Bucky had prayed to his knowledge, and three of them were during the war.
"What'd you say, Bucky?" He asked softly, so as to not disturb the memory swirling behind Bucky's eyes, making them cloudy with emotion.
"I told the big guy, 'God I need Stevie. I need you to let him stay with me a bit longer. Just a few more years, please, God. I'll even give you those same years of my life, God, but it ain't his time. He's not done yet'. I told God I'd gladly give my life over to you, because you had so many things left to accomplish, Steve. I swore I'd protect you, keep you safe forever, if only he'd let you stay a bit longer."
Tears made thick wet lines down Steve's cheeks. They'd only been 14 years old at the time, and Bucky was swearing his life over just so Steve might stay alive a few more years. He was about to respond when Bucky let go a hysterical hiccup.
"I swore I'd protect you, Stevie. That'd I'd never let you get hurt! I messed up," Bucky cried. He now had identical tear tracks to Steve. "I swore I'd protect you forever, and then I get myself thrown of the train 'steda having your back."
A sharp jolt of pain ripped through Steve's gut at that statement. "No, Bucky, that wasn't-"
Bucky cut him off with a broken sob. "Even if the train wasn't my fault, Stevie, I hurt you. I promised I'd stay by you and protect you, but I hurt you. I hurt you bad." His words dissolve into helpless, full body sobs which wracked his body, leaving him shuddering on the mattress. His stomach was seizing up at the memory of hurting his Steve, replaying the pain of realizing what he had done.
Steve had to fix it; he couldn't let Bucky blame himself for this. He curled into Bucky even more so than he already was, rubbing circles on his back with one hand as he resumed stroking Bucky's hair with the other.
"Buck, it's not your fault. You didn't want to, you didn't have any control. And I'm the one who let you fall off the train, it wasn't your fault." His voice cracked on the last part, and before he knew it he was sobbing just as earnestly as Bucky.
Bucky turned to face him, forcing Steve to stop what he was doing with his hands because of the now awkward angle of his arms.
"Steve, I - I made a promise-" he broke off, unable to continue any longer.
"Bucky, we all made promises. You don't think I was protecting you, too? God, when you fell, when I let you fall-- that was the worst day of my life. I tried to get drunk, I was desperate. Because I let you fall. All those times you pulled me up, getting me out of what ever tight spot I was in, and the one time you needed me to return the favor-- I couldn't. I failed you Bucky. It wasn't your fault."
Bucky stared at Steve in shock. "Stevie... you didn't let me fall, you couldn't have stopped it. I let go-"
"What?" Steve's voice was hoarse and broken, completely lost by this news.
"If I hadn't have fallen right when I did you woulda thrown yourself from the train trying to pull me up and we both knew it."
Steve was utterly blindsided by this. "You let go...-" He echoed faintly.
All the sudden Bucky was smothered by a giant lump of patriotism, which was crying profusely and hugging him tight. Bucky hugged Steve back just as much, crying almost as hard. The two sat like that for a long time, wrapped up together, crying out 70 years of regret and pain. The morning would find them fast asleep in the same position, even their resting bodies instinctively curling together.