Chapter Text
Natasha was the first to tell him. He still was unsure whether she was supposed to or not. He tried not to dwell on that; he’d gotten exhausted of all the secrets and who they had to be kept from. All that mattered was that they had his friend and that he was alive. SHIELD had apprehended him. Steve was glad they did, but wished he could have been there for it. He wanted to know what Bucky was like at the moment. Maybe he did save him from the river, but that didn't mean he was back to being the true Bucky. Steve was cautious, but there was still excitement thrumming inside.
He had been searching for months in between missions. He couldn't let it consume him, but it had been a large focus. He gave all the tips he’d gotten to Fury, so that their resources and allies could keep an eye out as well. They wanted him found as quickly as Steve did, but for entirely different reasons. Steve tried not to dwell too heavily on that.
The Winter Soldier was a threat. He knew that. And he knew if anyone got their hands on it, they could use it as a weapon. But all Steve wanted was to take it and make it Bucky again.
Tasha made it clear that the Soldier was secure and not in any immediate threat of danger, as long as SHIELD held him. They were currently trying to disable its arm to check for tracking devices or weapons inside. Steve tried to probe further, but she only gave him half answers. He knew that was meant to spare his feelings. They didn't want him to know how violent or how far gone his old friend was. He hated that.
It took them two whole days to ask Steve for help. It bothered him more than it should have. When he tried to watch the attempts at contact, Fury steered him away, promising he didn't want to see it. When he pushed, he was denied the authorization. Leaving his friend to suffer alone was pain for him. He dropped the mission he was planning just to focus on Bucky the moment they asked.
The Solider had eaten when ordered, and they believed he had slept while standing. His reports said he was greatly aided by medicines and drugs to keep him awake, focused, and powerful. While some had permanent effects, they saw no sign of withdrawal from others. Steve worried for him nonetheless.
The Soldier ignored everyone who came in. When they tried to touch him, he became violent. Thankfully, he was more defensive than aggressive, but there were still injuries. There had been no deaths yet, and Steve felt pleased at just that small victory. Stark went in personally as an attempt to get the arm. The Winter Soldier attacked him on sight.
For some reason, Steve was their last resort. They tried to brief him before he went in, but he didn't listen much. He knew who he would be dealing with.
He was in the corner of the room when Steve entered. He stood there, tense, watching. He didn't attack, but seemed more than ready for it. He looked less like a man or a weapon, more so a scared animal. Steve felt guilty for making that comparison, but it was the first to spring to mind.
“Bucky?” The door snapped and locked shut behind him, “Do you-”
“James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is dead. He died over seventy years ago, the only Howling Commando to give his life during service.” Bucky frowned, not moving, just speaking.
Steve nodded, moving slowly closer, “We all thought he died.”
“Why do all of you call me by a dead man’s name?” He asked, looking up into Steve’s eyes for a rare second before flinching and looking away. Steve wanted to chase that look, wanted him to know it was okay, that he wouldn’t be hurt for small questions or eye contact. But he knew that wouldn't help either of them right yet.
“It’s your name.” Steve swallowed, “You didn’t die from that fall. They took you and kept you alive. Then they shaped you into... Someone else.” Something else. He didn’t say it but he almost did. It wasn’t unfair. The Winter Solider was a weapon. He wasn’t the same as Bucky.
Bucky nodded slowly, knowing it too, “...I’m not Bucky anymore.”
“Yes you are. They don’t control you anymore. You don’t have to hurt or kill anyone. You won’t be frozen or hurt... Do you know who I am?”
“Steve Rogers. Captain America.” He nodded reciting, “A national hero and a legend.”
Steve nodded, trying to spur something more, “We shared a flat in Brooklyn. You went off to war and I... I was too weak at first. Before the serum. But then we got back together, remember? Found each other again.”
Bucky looked like he was trying hard to remember, after a while giving a small nod, “Every spring you would get so sick... We’d have a jar of spare change saving up to get you medicine... I was always worried you would...”
Steve smiled. He wanted to hug him, to welcome him back to the world of the living. Physical contact wasn't allowed yet,and he didn’t want to push that boundary. “Yeah, that's right.”
Bucky nodded a little, still thinking hard. He looked a little more relaxed. Steve stepped in closer, “We need to...”
“I'm not taking my arm off.” He snapped, tense again, “You're not going to leave me defenseless.”
“Do you think we want to hurt you?” Steve frowned, “Buck, I told you...”
He shakes his head, “I don’t know what to think. I want to trust you. I... I do trust you. But not any of them.”
“We're all on the same side and we all want to help you.” Steve reached a hand out gently to rest on his flesh arm. Bucky looked uncomfortable, and slightly afraid.
“SHIELD isn't all on the same side. That's why I was last hired.” Bucky blinked, letting Steve's touch stay for now.
Steve nodded. It was a fair point. The infiltration left even him hardly trusting his co-workers and peers. But the Winter Solider was nothing anyone wanted to destroy. That was the hope he was riding on, if nothing else. Be swallowed, “You're too valuable for them to lose. All they want to do is check for trackers and weapons. You'll get it back as soon as they're done.”
Bucky nodded thoughtfully, “You are a valuable asset too. I'll give them the arm if you will stay in with me. If they fail to return it, I'll kill you.”
Steve nodded back and moved closer, placing his hand on the metal arm. Bucky tensed, but didn't fight, “There's a small switch on the bottom underneath. Click it right, turn it. Then you'll have to pull the arm off.”
Steve moved the miniscule switch into place and turned it twice. Resting one hand on the tricep and the other on Bucky's neck, he pulled the arm off. A smooth socket of metal remained. Steve looked up at Bucky, who had bitten his lip so hard it bled.
“Did that hurt? Why didn't you say anything?” Steve frowned, cradling the arm awkwardly. Steve wasn't a huge fan of the metal arm. It stood for all the harm they had done to Bucky, and how they took him and shaped him into a weapon. He knew it was necessary, but he still hated it.
Bucky went quiet and still, not meeting his gaze. He ran his tongue over the blood, looking guilty.
The door opened and one of the doctors stepped in. Bucky grabbed Steve by the throat with his remaining arm. Steve tensed up, but didn't fight back. He knew this was a purely defensive move on Bucky's part. He wouldn't believe that Bucky would actually hurt or kill him right now, especially when he seemed to know who he was. Who they both were. He could feel Bucky pressed against him, radiating tension and fear.
“Relax,” she smiled, holding her hands up in a sign of peace, “I mean no harm. I'm only here to retrieve the arm. We heard the deal, we won't take too long. We don't want either of you hurt.”
Steve handed her the arm, giving a soft, apologetic smile. She gave the same smile back, looking a little more pitiful. He didn't mind. They didn't know that Bucky was good, under all the conditioning and torture. They know he used to be Bucky Barnes, but that all he was now was the Soldier. Steve knew he still had Bucky in him, and always would. The moment the doctor left, he released Steve.
Steve smiled, taking his shirt and dabbing at the blood on Bucky's lip. It reminded him of before, when he found Steve in some alley getting beat, saved his skin and chewed him out after, tending to his wounds all the while. Steve wished they could both have each other's backs the same way as before. He sighed, “When something hurts you, tell me, and I'll make it stop from now on, okay?”
Bucky only blinked, reciting, “The Winter Solider is a weapon, not a human. If it is damaged, it will be repaired. Pain does not matter as long as there is no injury.”
“Who are you?” He probed gently, trying not to wince at that answer.
He blinked, touching the socket. He couldn't be a weapon if they took away his greatest asset. According to Steve, he was, “Bucky Barnes...”
“And Bucky used to bitch when he was hurt, especially if it was my fault.”
“You hurt me? I don't remember that...” Bucky frowned.
“No! No, never. I would get in fight and you would have to defend me.”
His eyes flashed with memory and his lips quirked upwards in a rare little smile that made Steve’s heart jump up, “You were so fucking scrawny... Still can't believe what they shaped you up into.”
Steve smiled back, “Yeah... Still picking fights though. Only now I can actually win them.”
The doctor came back in with the arm, “We disabled and removed the trackers. Mr. Stark says we could make you a prosthetic that’s more-”
“This will do.” Bucky moves forward, taking his arm, “Steve will you reattach this so I can leave?”
Steve took it, wincing, “I... I don’t think you...”
“Director Fury will discuss the situation with you once you’re ready, Captain Rogers.” She smiled and left, shutting the door.
Steve started putting the arm back on, “Remember, tell me if it hurts. And I... I don’t know if you’re going to be able to leave immediately, but I’ll do everything I can to get them to let you go.”
“Even though I’m dangerous?” He raised an eyebrow, “A killer, really.”
Steve sighed, “Not anymore. We’ll find a way to keep you safe and keep everyone else safe too.” He stood, “I’ll be back soon, alright? Try to eat or sleep.”
“Would it kill Fury to come down and see me in person if he’s going to call for me?”
Natasha gave a small shrug. She knew everything with Bucky had Steve wound up tight, but Fury had new, pressing matters, “Other issues came up. We have an idea for what to do about James. We want to recondition him into being a normal person again. It’s not an easy transition. But we can’t use him for any missions until we know he’s under control and sane. We’re looking at candidates to house him-”
“I’ll do it.” Steve nodded.
Of course he would. Captain America was unbearably self sacrificing. This was well known, and in moments like this, it was exhausting. Natasha sighed, “No, you have other obligations. Besides, your personal relationship could make this harder on both of you.”
“It’ll help him. Nobody else remembers the world the way it was but him and me. He’d be at risk for killing or hurting anyone else, I’m strong enough in case he relapses. Plus, he trusts me.”
Natasha nodded, seeing the point, “I’ll talk to Fury about it, but this really isn’t a good idea.”
“I don’t see why it isn’t. You know anyone else watching him wouldn’t make sense. They wouldn’t know how to treat him. I grew up with him, I know. And if he slipped, unless you put him with a mutant or a super-human, they’d be dead.”
“He still can kill you.” She sighed, knowing Steve had set his mind on this, “We’re going to tell him that he’s assigned as a bodyguard to whoever he is in custody of. He’s been a guard for certain missions, we think giving him this idea decreases the likelihood of casualties or injuries.”
“That sounds like a good plan. He needs to be eased out of what happened to him, “Steve nods, “I’m going back to see how he is. Try to talk to Fury, if he isn’t too busy.”
Tuesday, Bucky was in his house. It nearly scared him to death to find him standing attention, waiting. He looked at Steve, “Captain. Director Fury gave me the key and information to get in. I’m going to be your guard and weapon from now on. Should we set ground rules?”
Steve nodded, “At ease, Buck. Yeah, good to see you, uh... Foods in the pantry and fridge, I keep it well stocked, you’re welcome to anything. Guest room is all yours, and you can use my shower.”
Bucky blinked in confusion, going to parade rest, “What are your rules, sir?”
Steve frowned, sitting and thinking for a good bit, “You can call me Steve, we're friends. Don't hurt others unless they are a threat. Don't risk yourself too much, I'm strong as well, and I’d rather get hurt than have you dead. You need to eat and sleep regularly, and tell me if you're hurt or injured.”
“You're giving me a lot of freedom, far more than I'm used to. Do you realize this?” Bucky looked uneasy and tense, like he was bracing for a blow.
“I do, and it's staying that way, Buck.”
Bucky nodded curtly, “I managed to eat and sleep in the SHIELD containment unit. I won't need to do either again for another few weeks.”
Steve frowned, “Well would you want to?”
Bucky doesn't look like he understands, because he truly doesn't. Steve went on, “You don’t have to be the Winter Soldier anymore, you’re Bucky Barnes. You will always be him to me. So tell me, what does Bucky Barnes want, if he could have anything in the world?”
Bucky gave a little nod, “Steve, if I may, why am I not the Winter Soldier? I’m guarding you. I have a mission. What I want most of all is to fulfill my mission. I want to keep you safe, alive, and in good health.”
“Buck, you're not totally like anymore. You're going to go back to being Bucky and I'm going to help you. That's part of your job here.”
“What if I fail? What if I can't be Bucky the way you remember me?” He asked softly. Before, he was sure he could complete any mission given. This one was different, and made him uneasy. He had what was Bucky stripped from his brain and buried under. It likely couldn’t even be fully recovered.
“You won't be just like the Bucky I remember. But you won't be the Winter Soldier either. You're something different from either of those, because you're free now. But whatever you become, your name is Bucky and you’re a person”
Bucky nodded a little, taking it all in, “I can ask for things I want? Will they be given to me?”
“Within reason, I'll do what I can.”
Bucky nodded a little, “I want a hot shower. I can't remember the last time... May I have a hot shower?”
“Knock yourself out.” Steve smiled, beyond pleased at Bucky managing to ask, “Go down that hallway, second door, alright? I'll be right out here.”
Bucky frowned, shaking his head and realizing, “No, I can't. Who's going to watch over you while I'm showering? I'll be vulnerable.” He looked around the house uncertainly.
Steve bit his lip, “I think I'll be safe. I promise I'll be safe, alright? Please go.”
Bucky, taking it as an order, went to the bathroom and showered. Steve prepared soup for when he was out, unsure what Bucky's stomach could handle after years of undereating. He wanted to make him a real person again. He know it would be a long process, but Buck already started expressing desires.
Bucky emerged five minutes later, head poking out of the cracked bathroom door, “Am I allowed to use your towels?”
“What's mine is yours,” Steve smiled, pouring out bowls for them both.
Bucky wandered out, towel around his waist. Steve's eyes were drawn to the scar tissue surrounding his bionic arm. He tried to focus on his face, but it was hard. It was old tissue, healed fairly well, but it was still there. His best friend still lost his entire arm, nearly dying in the process. His best friend lost a lot.
Bucky shifted, “Where is clothing? Will you have me in unofficial armor, uniform, or civvies?”
Steve shrugged, “You can borrow some of my clothes for now. They're in the drawers,” he pointed to his room.
He added that to the list of things he needed to get for Bucky. He didn’t know what, if anything, Bucky had with him. He wanted this to become home for him, so that he felt safe. He was just having a hard time figuring out how.
Bucky shut the door behind him. He didn't want to, but he didn't want Steve to see his scars and pity him any more. It made him uncomfortable enough already.
He found sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt in Steve’s drawer. They would do for now. He didn’t want the lifelike prosthetic that was offered, but he could tell the HYDRA issued arm made Steve uncomfortable. He would keep it out of sight, to please his commander. But he would not sacrifice function for image.
He looked at himself in the mirror for one brief moment before turning and assessing the room. There was one window, facing the side of the bed. Besides that, the door was the only other exit. The room was smaller, which was good. There were few things in here; the drawers, a desk, and a bed. He would ask Steve permission to check for wires, cameras, or bugs, later. For now, he was sure Steve expected him to be playing human more.
He walked out, trying to move less mechanically. Steve was sitting at the dinner table, smiling expectantly, “I made us soup. Want to try and eat?”
Bucky nodded and sat down. Steve was strange. He gave suggestions, not orders. He followed the suggestions as best he could, not wanting to learn what happened if he refused.
There was a blurred vision of Steve in his mind, like the memory of a dream. Not the Steve from the museum, or the files, or the missions. His Steve, from the old days. It was strange. He looked at Steve for a while. They were very similar, severed and scattered across time. Little flashes of him came to mind, especially with prompting. But he still wasn’t entirely there, and he knew it.
Steve smiled politely, “If you don't think you can eat, you don't have to.”
Bucky starts eating, angry with himself. He's getting too distracted. He's no longer taking the slew of drugs that kept him operational as an asset, which makes this harder. Already he's spent too much time away from Steve showering, and even now he wasn't alert enough to follow and order, nevertheless stop a threat.
“Your window is in an inopportune location. Someone could shoot you as you slept.” He mentions as he eats. People talk casually. He decided to try that, Steve might like it, and it served a purpose, "If you're shot dead, I will have failed my mission.
Steve nodded, “It's bulletproof glass, high end stuff. Thanks for worrying for me though.”
“It's my job.” He nodded factually, “May I check for wires and bugs after dinner?”
“I go through every week for that. Tasha helps. But thanks.” Steve watched Bucky, like he was waiting for something grand to happen.
Bucky frowned, “What can I do for you, sir? I only-” he stopped himself. He broke a rule. His commander was Steve, not sir. He knew that, he knew that, but he just fell into his normal habit. He supposed that's why they punished him so often: to keep him in line with whatever new rules were set. If that's why, then he was certain what was next, despite how good and relaxed of a commander Steve was.
Steve frowned, but kept eating, “Just get healthy. Regular healthy. They told me some of the chemicals HYDRA put in you, I... Bucky, what's wrong?”
Bucky didn't know what his face showed. He closed his eyes, “I know I’ve made an error. What's the protocol for punishment under your care?”
Steve shook his head, looking like he was hardly hiding horror from his face. Strange. There was nothing inherently bad about protocol, or the enforcement of his rules. Steve just kept looking sad and scared for him, “No, no, you just made a little mistake, it's fine.”
Bucky was tense, expecting a hit soon, or a shock. He flexed his fingers slightly, making sure his hand wasn't remotely disabled yet. Handlers and commanders could be sly with punishments. Perhaps Steve was playing a game. It didn't fit his perception of Steve, but he was here to learn.
Steve went over, hugging him. It was weird. He didn't know if there was something else happening. He didn't hug back or move much, just letting Steve embrace him.
“I won't hurt you, Buck. You're my friend.” He sighed, pulling away.
Bucky nodded, still uncertain about everything. Steve smiled softly, taking the mostly empty bowls up, “I'm sorry. I don't want you to be scared of me. You're my friend and all I want is for you to get better.”
Bucky stood, moving himself between the living room window and Steve. He knew this house wasn't safe, he shot Director Fury through it. He didn't want to say that to Steve, to remind him that he was a killer. Even though his attempt on Fury was failed, there were many others that succeeded. For Steve’s sake, he had to stay human for now.
Steve seemed to think he was sick and would get better. Steve was wrong. He was a weapon, not a person. He was broken, and he didn't know if he would be fixed.