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When Captain America falls, the Asset grabs onto the first thing within reach, just in time not to fall too. He watches the man fall, probably to his death, with no empathy.
Target eliminated. Mission complete.
But his handlers taught him better than that. The Asset knows how to take life, but he’s been told that the captain has survived far worse. Even with multiple gunshot wounds, he could have survived the impact with the water.
Deeply engrained programming tells him that he has to see the dead body; to confirm that there’s no sign of life. The Asset isn’t emotional; he doesn’t care about the people he hurts. But there was something about what the captain said. The Asset can feel it, like a fog lifting from his brain. And the thought of finding the blonde without a heartbeat makes his own chest ache.
The metal arm whirrs in protest. It wasn’t designed to hold him up like this. It has great power when harming targets through quick and efficient movements, but it quickly loses its strength when too much strain is put on it.
He has two options. Pull himself back up on the Helicarrier that is headed for a spectacular crash or jump into the water below. There seems to only be one good option, so the Asset lets go.
When he hits the water, his shoulder is torn further out of its socket. He screams, but all that escapes him is a flurry of air bubbles. There is a strange hurt in his chest at the memory of how it was dislocated, as if he can’t believe his target would actually hurt him.
Breaking the surface of the water, he takes a gulping breath. The pain dissipates slightly, but a stubborn ache stays in his shoulder as he moves around, looking for any sign of blue or blonde. Debris hits the water all around him, sending waves and splashes in every direction, limiting how far he can see.
The Asset could be hit by a piece of debris at any moment, dooming him to the same fate as the captain who is probably pinned to the bottom of the river.
Pain rips through his chest and he knows he has to find the blonde. To save him. It can’t end like this.
Drawing a deep breath, he dives back under the waves. He moves frantically in the water, looking for any sign of the missing person. The view is no better from here, with sinking parts of Helicarrier and air bubbles everywhere, but the Asset can’t give up. He has to confirm the target’s death.
With stinging lungs, he prepares to kick back up to the surface when a flash of blue catches his eye. Kicking his feet, he goes deeper to investigate. With every kick, he gets a better view of what’s ahead, and slowly, a familiar face comes into focus.
The captain’s body is limp, limbs floating in a way that makes him look like he’s still falling. His face is peaceful, with no sign of life, and the water surrounding him is tinted red. There’s too much red, too much blood around him. Even under water he’s too pale and unnaturally still.
The Asset wants to scream again, but no air is left in his lungs. He completed his mission. He did what they told him to, so why does it feel like he is dead too?
The captain can’t be left for the search and rescue team to find after he’s already bloated and started decomposing. The Asset has seen it too many times, and this man deserves better than that.
Hooking his metal arm around the other man’s chest, he kicks his legs to bring them back up to the surface. The added weight slows them down, but he is determined.
By the time they break the surface, the Asset's lungs are screaming for air. Even after many gasped breaths, the weight in his chest doesn’t let up. The captain – he called himself Steve – was under for much longer than he was. The lack of gasping breaths when they hit the air tells the Asset all he needs to know. Steve’s body would’ve instinctively taken breaths, even when he’s unconscious, if there was any life left in him.
Shifting his grip, he holds Steve by a shoulder strap and drags him to shore with heavy steps. It feels like the water is fighting him, heavier with each step he takes. It has soaked through all of his layers, sitting like ice against his skin.
The Asset was never truly an emotionless machine. His programming told him not to care, but he felt every kill, every life that drained out of his targets. He never wanted it, but he did it anyway, without question. He knew his handlers would take the pain away when he got back. Wipe the memory of the mission from existence. But this time, he knows that he needs to feel it, to remember it.
The Asset avoids looking at Steve as he lowers him to the sand. His last memory can’t be Steve dead, lifeless, robbed of a lifetime because of him. The blood is already on his hands; soaked into his gear, clogging up his arm, choking him.
A weak cough catches his attention, and he looks down at Steve. He holds his breath, keeping his body completely still as he waits to see if he imagined it.
Another cough comes and a small trickle of water runs down Steve’s cheek. The Asset stares as Steve moves slightly as if trying to take a breath before coughing up more water.
Not dead. That’s good. Someone will find him and help him. He can be saved.
Without a second thought, he turns and walks away. They will find Steve. Probably airlift him to the nearest hospital. They will stop the bleeding and bring every last drop of water out of his lungs. They will keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t develop pneumonia. It wouldn’t be anything new to his body, but it would complicate his healing process.
Something stops him; a faint feeling, an instinct, the tickle of something in the back of his mind. He turns back around to look at Steve. What if they don’t find him in time? What if they don’t know how to help him? His body is so fragile, so familiar with illness and injury.
He moves without thinking. Back to Steve. Manoeuvring his big, vulnerable body into recovery position. Using the strength of his metal arm, he rolls Steve onto his side before moving his leg and arm to support his body, so he won’t roll onto his stomach. The pain in his chest worsens as he watches Steve purge the water from his lungs. There’s so much, and it’s streaked with blood.
He can’t help Steve without the use of both arms, so he grabs hold of his right arm, just like he’s done countless times before and uses the power of the metal to pop it back in place, biting back the scream tearing at his throat. The pain melts away in an instant, settling at a dull ache that is barely noticeable compared to the sharp stabbing pain in his chest.
Once Steve’s life isn’t in immediate danger, he starts working on the bullet wounds. It’s hard to access them through the suit, but he makes do. Neither of their suits will tear no matter how hard he tugs, so he has nothing to use as a compress.
Using his bare hands, he applies pressure to the wounds, starting with the worst one in Steve’s abdomen. The pressure makes Steve bring up more clear fluid. It runs down his cheeks and into the hair behind his ears. Keeping his left hand on the wound, he wipes at the water with his flesh hand, so carefully that he barely touches Steve’s skin.
His stomach heaves at the knowledge that he did this to Steve, but he swallows it down for later. He can’t help if he isn’t in control of himself. Self-control is the Asset’s most important quality; he can do this without drowning in the pain and guilt.
One wound at a time, he stops the bleeding. He doesn’t try to touch the bullets, knowing that pulling them out could make it worse. They could be all that stand between Steve’s survival and bleeding out in seconds.
It shouldn’t be possible to stem the bleeding with the bullets still buried in the flesh, but the serum helps, forcing Steve’s body to heal around the foreign objects.
Finally, the Asset lets out the breath he’s been holding. Steve will survive. He didn’t kill him. He failed the mission, but he isn’t sure that’s a bad thing. This is his new mission, saving Steve.
He sits back, scanning Steve’s body for any other injuries. His eye is swollen and red from being hit full force with a metal hand; he can still feel his knuckles ache at the thought. Most of the blood that was smeared on Steve’s face was washed away by the river, but the blue fabric is stained dark red around the holes that were torn straight through the sturdy suit like it was made of paper.
The Asset looks down at his own hands, covered in Steve’s blood. He was ruthless, putting everything he had into killing him. He would’ve if Steve was a normal person. He wanted to, but he can’t remember exactly why.
The blood-stained hands in his lap go blurry and his eyes start burning. When he blinks, water trickles down his cheek. The sensation is familiar and foreign all at once. The knot in his chest, the pressure behind his eyes, and the choked breaths that escape him are all so familiar.
He can’t remember the last time he felt like this. Would he even remember if he’d cried in the last seventy years? Is this familiar because he never stopped or because of a long-forgotten memory?
He makes no move to wipe away the tears, just lets them slide warmly down his skin. The release of emotion is refreshing, but the reality of the situation prevents him from feeling any better.
What is he going to do? He can’t go back to Hydra, if anything is even left of them. They would wipe him again, make him an empty shell of a person that blindly follows their orders.
He can’t stay with Steve either. Steve is safe, but they won’t understand. How can he explain that his mind was twisted until he wanted to kill for them, but he doesn’t want that anymore? Even Steve would question that statement.
He has nowhere to go, no one to go to. He is alone in this, and it is so terrifying that he finds himself longing for the numb nothingness that comes with Hydra’s torture. But he won’t do that anymore. This time he’ll make a different choice. He’ll walk away.
Helicopters sound in the distance just as Steve starts to stir. They will come here soon, and Steve has to be the only one they find.
Steve’s breathing is even now, not erratic and laboured like it was earlier. He will be okay.
The Asset knows that he doesn’t have much time left. But he wants Steve to know that he was here. Hydra isn’t big on accessories, and there are no loose parts on his tact gear that he can leave with Steve. It has to be something small, something only Steve will find. He taps himself down, looking for something, when his hand touches the knife in his thigh holster.
It’s slim and all black with a small red star on the handle; the Winter Soldier symbol. It won’t draw attention to itself like his other, bigger silver knifes. Steve will know this one. After all, he tried to kill him with it.
No one will bat an eye at the knife if he tucks it into Steve’s suit like it was meant to be there. It will only be later, when Steve gets his suit back that he will notice it and know that the Asset stayed with him.
Then he gets up, wipes uselessly at his eyes and leaves. He doesn’t look back, knowing he wouldn’t be able to leave if he does, just keeps walking.
★☆
Natasha comes bursting into Steve’s room the moment he’s awake. Steve had hoped to at least get a few hours to process what happened before seeing anyone, but the wild look in Nat’s eyes stops his protests.
Nat is the type of person who looks calmer the more upset she is, because she always puts great effort into not showing her true emotions. To anyone who doesn’t know her, she’d look unbothered by what just happened. But Steve can see the fear in her eyes and the way her hands twitch at her sides.
“They found your shield.” She says tightly. Steve chews on the inside of his lip. He supposes throwing out his shield and getting shot multiple times can seem idiotic to someone who doesn’t know the whole story.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Steve tries to joke to lift the mood, but it doesn’t work. He’s pumped full of all kinds of medications in an attempt to take the edge off his pain. Luckily, the bullet that hit his back went right through him, exiting through his abdomen with minimal damage. But it still hurts the same.
He wonders if Bucky did that on purpose. He’s a trained assassin; he knows where to aim to hurt someone without killing them just as well as he knows how to take someone out. It’s probably wishful thinking that some part of Bucky didn’t truly want to hurt him. He seemed pretty damned determined.
“Why would you do that Steve?” Nat says in a sharp voice, looking at him like he’s a little kid who just did exactly what she told him not to do. It’s a look he’s intimately familiar with, although he usually saw it on a different face. A face he thought was gone until that day on the bridge.
“Why-” She stops and runs a hand through her hair before she continues, “How could you do that to us? To me?” Her anger is replaced with fear as she looks at him with shiny eyes. Steve thinks of the day the Winter Soldier tried to assassinate Nick Fury, and Steve chased him. When he threw his shield and it was met with the clang of metal, the eyes looking back at him were impossible not to recognize.
Of course, he knew it right then. He has drawn those eyes too many times not to know every little detail of them. But it was only on the bridge, when the mask came off, that he truly believed it. He was in shock after. Sam and Nat had assumed it was because his very dead friend showed up alive, but it was so much more than that.
“Why would you do that Steve?” Nat repeats sharply. Steve just looks at her, his mind preoccupied with thinking about the fact that Bucky is out there somewhere, hurt, scared and alone. Bucky who had been so much more than a friend; he was everything to Steve.
“You could’ve died Steve.” This time she’s looking at him with confusion, she doesn’t understand. Steve never found the right time to tell her the truth, or perhaps he was too scared. He has learned that they would be accepted now, but a couple of years ago he was living in the 40’s, having no choice but to hide.
Steve looks at his hands in his lap, searching for the right way to explain that he knew Bucky wouldn’t kill him. He could see that Bucky’s anger masked fear, fear because he started to remember. Steve can only imagine how it feels to break out of brainwashing only to see himself hurt someone he used to love.
“I will never give up trying to bring him back.” Steve is aware it doesn’t explain anything other than his intention. It is far from enough, but he can’t find the words. How can he ever put into words what Bucky means to him? How can he ever explain what he would do to make sure Bucky is okay? “You don’t know what he means to me.”
“Then tell me.” Nat insists. Steve shakes his head. He would die if it meant Bucky would live a happy life away from Hydra. He would happily take as many bullets from the Winter Soldier as he needed to get through to Bucky. And he did break through, for a split second. He saw the recognition in Bucky’s eyes right before he fell.
Nat sits at the edge of Steve’s bed. “Please help me understand why you would risk your life for a guy you knew seventy years ago.” She looks desperate, pleading.
“When I woke up,” Steve starts, “When I was told that I survived the crash, I realized that I could’ve survived jumping after him when he fell from the train. I failed him, and I won’t do that again.” Steve’s voice thickens with emotion. When he woke up, he was in a haze for nearly two weeks, unable to feel anything. Until he had that realization, and the world shattered.
“This isn’t just about owing him. There’s something you’re not telling me.” She says.
Steve sighs, searching out the pike of blue fabric that’s draped over a chair. “My suit, the inside pocket,” Nat looks exasperated, but reaches for the suit. As she straightens it out, Steve sees that it was cut off his body. It’s easy for her to locate the only solid object in the suit and pulls it out.
Respectful as she is, she places it on the bed without looking closer. Steve runs his finger over the back of the compass before handing it back to her. She looks confused at first; it’s just an old compass. It’s small and round, made out of silver and covered in hand-carved patterns. Steve never could’ve afforded such a thing; it was a family heirloom. His heart hammers in his chest with how close he is to telling someone who Bucky is to him.
He gives her a small nod and she opens it. There is a photo on the inside of the lid, the old ones that were black and white, but turned brown with time. It depicts a young man, smiling, something she’s never seen the Winter Soldier do. She looks questioningly at Steve for a moment before returning her attention to the kind and gentle man in the photo.
“Steve, is this…?” She trails off. Now she appears to be the one unable to find words. Steve takes a moment to gather his courage. This is the first time he will tell anyone; he has to make sure he gives her the right impression of their relationship. He finally settles for saying the first thing that came to mind when she asked.
“Bucky,” He pours all of his emotions into the name. “That’s my Bucky.” He reaches into is collar to pull off the chain he always keeps around his neck, relieved to find it’s still there. She looks at him, unsure, and he nods. When she grabs the dog tags to give them a closer look, she sees that it’s not Steve’s name on them. It’s Bucky’s.
There is something else hanging from the chain, and as she strokes her finger over the brass ring – it was all they could afford at the time – he can see realization dawn on her. Her eyes fall back to Steve’s hand, and her suspicion is confirmed when she finds the matching ring there. The one she kept asking about without ever getting an explanation.
She gives him a knowing look and places the chain and compass back in Steve’s hand. He opens his mouth to explain but she holds up a finger to stop him.
“You don’t have to tell me.” She says in a soft voice, her eyes warm, and a small smile on her lips. She is no longer angry, because she gets it now. Steve will never stop fighting for the man he loves.
“You’re the first person I’ve told.” Steve half-whispers. Finally telling someone feels better than he could’ve imagined, but it also makes everything hurt more. It’s as if it didn’t feel real when he was the only one who knew, and now that the information is out there, he is forced to face the pain.
He can’t stop thinking about what Bucky is going through alone somewhere. Steve knows that Hydra collapsed, but that doesn’t prevent a Hydra agent from finding Bucky and taking control of him for personal use.
“Did you want to?” She asks. Steve chuckles even though no part of this is funny. She has no idea how much they wanted to tell someone, how often they had to stay silent when all they wanted to do was to scream to the world that they loved each other.
“Of course, but we couldn’t.” Steve says.
“I know.”
They sit in silence for a while, Natasha looking deep in thought before she suddenly stands up. “I’ll help you find him.” She looks determined as ever and somehow Steve just knows, they will find his Bucky.
★☆
Steve is glad he’s sitting down when he goes through his suit, searching for any clue about what happened. There are holes in the abdomen and back that almost perfectly line up. his hand comes to the bandage on his stomach, remembering the pain of the bullet ripping through him. There are more holes and tears than he expected, he must not have felt every effort Bucky made to kill him.
He turns the suit over and something hard hits his thigh. He frowns, laying it flat on the hospital bed and running his hands over the sleeve. There is definitely an object hidden there. Something has been wedged in between the layers of the sleeve, accessed through a cut in the fabric. When he pulls out the object, his heart plummets.
He recognizes the blade, knows that it would fit perfectly in one of his stab wounds. But that isn’t what makes his heart ache. It’s the small red star on the handle, hidden in the curves, only visible if you look closely.
He was told that he was found on the bank, but no one could explain how he got out of the water. He was on his side, in the recovery position, and his wounds had stopped bleeding. The doctor’s opinion was that someone else had found him first and performed first-aid, but they couldn’t figure out who.
Steve had a feeling, but he didn’t believe it until now, he was so sure that Bucky wanted him dead when he fell. It is no accident that one of the Winter Soldier’s knives were hidden in Steve’s suit. Bucky must’ve put it there after he pulled Steve out of the Potomac, got the water out of his lungs and patched up his wounds.
★☆
Bucky has already slipped the key into the lock when he hears footsteps on the other side. He curses himself for not being more careful. It is no excuse that his mind is still on the newspaper claiming something he couldn’t have done. If he hadn’t heard at the last moment, he would’ve waltzed right in, caught completely off guard by the Hydra agent inside.
How they found him now, he doesn’t know. He’s been in this apartment for nearly a year, sitting like a waiting duck. It shouldn’t have taken them this long.
In his first months of freedom – if you could call it that – he kept on the move, never staying in one country for too long, never sleeping in the same place for more than a couple days. He heard that Hydra collapsed along with S.H.I.E.L.D, but that doesn’t prevent their surviving agents from continuing the work. All they’d have to do is say the words, and his taste of freedom would be over.
When he arrived in Romania fifteen months ago, he was exhausted. He’d been running for so long, always covering his tracks, always looking out for potential threats. He needed a place to stay for a while, somewhere to lay low, where he could be invisible. He planned to stay a week, maybe two, but then he never moved on.
Eventually, he found an apartment to rent, and a landlord who agreed to leave no paper trail. It’s just a small rundown place, but it feels closer to home than anywhere he’s been since before the war. He chose the furniture himself, picking it up off the street and strategically placing it where it could easily be used to his advantage, should anyone ever find him.
He should’ve known it was a terrible idea, that he’d never be able to settle down anywhere and be left alone. He’s never seen Hydra unable to find anyone, and it seems that even his inside knowledge of their tactics wasn’t enough to protect him.
A part of him wanted to be found, perhaps that was why he stopped running. But he had hoped it would be someone else. But who in their right mind would track down the person who nearly killed them when they were defenceless and refused to fight back?
Bucky takes a deep breath, willing down the fear that sits deep in his stomach. He slowly twists the key. If they’ve found him, he’s not going down without a fight.
The door opens soundlessly, and he steps inside just as a voice murmurs something he can’t make out. He is unarmed as he’s just been at the market, but he has weapons hidden all over the place. Still, he curses himself for not carrying anything on him; for allowing himself to let his guard down even in the slightest.
The man in the apartment doesn’t seem to hear him as he enters the room. He murmurs something again; Bucky still can’t hear what he’s saying. He finds himself thinking that the Winter Soldier would’ve heard him clearly and his stomach twists.
He goes rigid when he recognizes the man. His blue suit looks the same as the last time Bucky saw it, complete with the shield on his back. They must’ve pulled it out of the Potomac somehow.
All this time, Bucky wanted Steve to find him, but now that he’s here, right in front of Bucky, the only thing he feels is sheer terror. He never thought of what he’d say or do if it actually happened. He’s unsure if he should lunge forward and wrap Steve in a hug or run back out the door he came from.
He dreamt of this moment so many times, in so many ways, but in none of them did Steve break into his apartment and start reading his notebooks while Bucky was out buying plums. It’s almost laughable, but laughing haven’t really been a big priority. He’s had enough with getting through each day as it is.
Steve reading his notebooks however is not funny at all. Those notebooks are his mind. He writes down every memory and thought in them. Steve reading those pages is pretty much the equivalent to opening his brain and taking a peek inside.
The one he’s reading is the one he wanted Steve to see the least. It’s the one with all his Steve memories. He wrote in it this morning after dreaming of him, which is why it was thrown so carelessly on top of the fridge.
Bucky sees the exact moment Steve realizes that someone is in the room with him. He stays on guard as Steve turns around and puts down the notebook. For a moment they just stand there, looking at each other. It isn’t exactly the reunion Bucky hoped for.
Steve takes a careful step toward him and Bucky restrains himself from taking a step back. His heart jumps into his throat and he struggles to keep up his façade. He’s wearing an emotionless mask despite feeling like every possible emotion is coursing through his veins.
There is a mask of something on Steve’s face too, but Bucky can see right through it. He looks the same as in all of Bucky’s memories, but this is a different version of him. Behind the stoic expression, he’s tense and worn down. He looks at Bucky with such sadness, it breaks Bucky’s heart.
“Do you know me?” Steve asks cautiously, like any wrong move can set Bucky off. He has his Winter Soldier face on, so he can see where Steve would get the idea. Bucky wants to scream Yes, of course I know you, but he can’t. If there is no more S.H.I.E.L.D, then who does Steve work for? Who is listening, and who was he talking to?
“You’re Steve.” Bucky says, keeping his voice void of any emotion. “I read about you in a museum.” It’s not a complete lie. He went to the Smithsonian after he remembered who Steve was. He had been on the run for weeks when it came to him. He’d had memories of the blonde man with bright blue eyes before, but that time he realized who Steve had been to him.
“I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be.” Steve says with a hint of nerves in his voice. “But you’re lying.” The boldness is so familiar, Bucky has to suppress a smile at the memories it awakens. “You pulled me out of the river.” It’s not a question; they both know it’s true. “Why?”
Bucky should’ve expected the question, god knows he’s asked himself that same thing. He was so determined to eliminate his target, why couldn’t he let him drown? But when it came down to it, and Bucky realized that he was about to complete his mission, he knew that he had to save the guy. He’d remembered enough to know that he needed to protect him, even if he didn’t know why.
“I don’t know.” Bucky replies too fast to be believable, he knows that, but perhaps he doesn’t want Steve to believe it.
It seems as if his body has forgotten how to breathe; he has to force air in and out of his lungs. He wonders if Steve can see how hard his heart is beating. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, he can’t lower his heartbeat at will.
“Bullshit.” Steve snaps. He reaches into his pocket and Bucky glances at the nearest hidden gun, wondering if he could get there in time. Steve pulls out a knife, but before Bucky can lunge for the gun, he recognizes the black metal. It’s a slim blade with a handle that is perfectly moulded to his hand, and when Steve’s hand moves, the red star on the handle is revealed.
“Why did you save me?” Steve asks. He holds the knife by the blade, rendering it useless. But he doesn’t want to use it, he’s just showing it to Bucky, showing that he knows what happened when he was unconscious.
“I don’t know.” Bucky repeats dumbly. He knows exactly why he saved Steve; he had a moment of clarity, a moment where the only thing that made sense was saving Steve. It wasn’t really a chose, but an instinct. He knew that Steve needed saving before he knew his own name.
“Yes, you do.” Steve says in a clear, stern voice. His hand comes to his throat, disappearing under the neckline of his suit. Bucky watches cautiously as Steve lifts out a chain, lifting it over his head and holding it out.
Bucky takes it with his right hand, not trusting his left arm after what it did to Steve last time. He swallows thickly, the weight in his hand feeling familiar. When he looks at the pendant, his vision blurs. He can’t control his breathing anymore; it’s coming in and out way too fast.
“What’s this?” Bucky’s voice shakes along with the rest of his body. He knows what it is, but he gives a last desperate attempt to pretend he doesn’t remember. In his hand is a silver chain with his dog tags, stamped with the familiar name and number that he remembers mumbling over and over to himself while Hydra were taking his memories, one by one.
He refused to let go, stubbornly holding onto who he was. He must’ve recited that number enough times for the entire Hydra base to know it by heart. Until the day they told him that Steve was dead. That’s how they broke him. And he wasn’t scared of losing himself anymore, figuring that nothing could be more painful than the grief that threatened to crush him.
With the dog tags also hangs a ring, a thin brass band. Bucky feels tears form in his eyes as he strokes a finger over it. No amount of blinking or clearing his throat can hold back the flood of emotion that’s crashing over him.
“You know.” Steve says. Bucky looks at him and nods, he knows what it is and he remembers all of it. He expects pain to follow the admission, like every other time he remembered Steve, but it doesn’t come. There’s no electricity surging through his brain, no punches, no stabbing, no burning, no pain.
It’s just him and Steve, in this small apartment in Bucharest, almost seventy-five years after the first time Steve gave him that ring.
“It’s been so long.” Bucky chokes out. Steve lifts his arms and moves closer as if he wants to hug Bucky but stops himself. Bucky can’t remember how it feels to be hugged, or to be touched with good intentions.
They share a look, and Bucky must look pretty bad because Steve decides to take the chance. When Steve’s arms wrap around him, Bucky collapses into his chest. He holds his breath and tries to hold the emotion back, but to no avail. The tears rip out of him, violently and uncontrollably.
Steve doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to. He knows what Bucky is going through. He went through a similar process when he first woke up from the ice. It’s hard to realize that everyone and everything you know is gone; that nothing is the same anymore. The world went on without them, and they are left to grieve who they used to be, everything they’ve lost and everything that’s been done to them.
Steve does the only thing that would help Bucky calm down when he got worked up during the war. He holds him close, tight enough for Bucky to feel like he’s being held together when it feels like he’s completely falling apart.
Steve lifts a hand to play with the hair at Bucky’s neck and Bucky slowly feels himself calming down. As soon as he’s calm enough to regain control over his emotions, he forces himself to stop crying and pulls back from Steve’s embrace.
He’s exhausted; there’s no more fight in him. There is no point in fighting Steve anymore either, he already knows that Bucky remembers.
A part of him is still waiting for the pain he’s so used to following any question about Steve. Throughout his seven decades with Hydra, a memory of Steve would resurface every now and then. He would ask about the small blonde who never walked away from a fight or the big guy in the blue, white, and red suit, sometimes he’d just ask Who is Steve?. They would hurt him every time, followed by erasing his memories.
But there is no pain this time. It’s just him and Steve, so perhaps he’s safe.
Bucky looks down at the chain in his hand and before he can think too much about it, he opens the chain, frees the ring and puts the dog tags in his own pocket. He glances nervously at Steve who looks back at him with so much love. Steve quickly catches on to what Bucky wants and takes the ring from him with a grin in his face.
As he holds out his right hand, there is a smile forming on his own face too. It’s his first real smile in god knows how long and it feels amazing. Steve takes his hand in his own and carefully slips the ring onto Bucky’s finger. Bucky didn’t even know that something was missing, but suddenly his hand looks like his own again.
Then Steve kisses him and Bucky feels safer than he has for a really long time. The feeling of Steve’s lips on his is so familiar, but it also feels like it’s the first time. He gets lost in the feeling, finally believing that he can be safe.
He’s worked for so long to put his life back together piece by shattered piece, but no matter what he did, something was missing. There was a big hole in his life where Steve was supposed to be and now that he’s got him back, he feels whole again, or as whole as he can be, all things considered. He decides right then that he’s never letting Steve go again.
Whatever happens next, they will do it together.