hollow

I am made of bullets; shrapnel. You are solar flares and soft lips - better creatures could love you, I know. But now they’ll have to get through me.

[illamerit-blog]

It was a trait that had stuck with him since his life in the forty’s. If Steve could help it, he wouldn’t lie. He would say what he meant, and only ever made promises that he intended to keep. “So long as I’m around, Hydra will have to fight to get anywhere near you.” His voice was just as casual as Bucky’s, though there was a steely undertone indicating how serious he was. “SHIELD might not agree with me, and the others might not either, but I’m here for you, pal. I always will be.”

He felt the words catch on his lips. He had to think – consider. Was trying to rescue Bucky under Hydra control worth the risk of him harming others? He wanted to say yes, he wanted to say that his friend was still in there somewhere, but he knew that morally it should have been an easy decision. “Sure, Bucky. I can do that,” he said after what he thought was too long a pause. It seemed like a hundred years had finally caught up with him, and a weathered tiredness was all he felt. He didn’t object to Bucky’s sudden declaration, and only followed behind the man, keeping a few steps behind. “What do you need?”

[apstrusus]

Bucky believed Steve’s intentions. If the boy from Brooklyn was anything at all, he was genuine. Right to the very core of his being, he meant everything he said and everything he did, no matter the consequences. That was one thing that Bucky knew without a doubt, even with his uncertain memories. “They will fight,” he said, blunt but not harsh. Hydra would want their greatest asset back, if not to use, then to keep out of the hands of their enemies. 

The pause was not unnoticed, but he had to have faith in the man in front of him. Even the chance that Steve would stop him was more than he had now so he had to hold onto it. He gave a small nod before he walked off, a small acknowledgement of the assurance. “Memories.” It was a poor explanation, but it was all he would give at the moment. Listening carefully to the sounds of cars and people, he made his way across the road with little issue, though he pressed his hand against the wall to guide him to the door of the apartment. He stepped inside, not walking far before reaching down and peeling up a floorboard. From underneath, he pulled out a backpack and hung it over his shoulder. “Where now?”

[illamerit-blog]

Ethan didn’t move from his chair. He sat there, trying not to doze off. When his eyes would drift shut, he would start and sit up straight in the chair. The clock on the wall read eleven o’clock. Anyone would be tired by now especially if they had the day he had had. Some of the nurses – the ones who were more dedicated to the job than they were scared of him – offered him a blanket or snack. All he took was water.

He found himself calling out, “Nurse,” as soon as he saw her start opening her eyes. They would want to check on her, maybe do a more comprehensive exam now that she was finally conscious. “Clara,” he breathed. Seeing her with her eyes open, he felt a giant wave of relief. He buried his face in his hands. He was feeling relieved – happy – worried – scared. Ethan couldn’t recall ever feeling this way. Not for himself, not for anyone. Clara wasn’t just anyone. She was more than he could have ever asked for.

“Oh my god, Clara,” his voice was muffled by his hands. This was good. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but she was awake. She knew who he was. That was more than he could have asked for. Ethan looked towards her with bloodshot eyes. “How are you feeling?” It seemed a loaded question. She was probably hurting. She was probably in pain. But she was alive, and that was all he cared about.

[apstrusus]

As sweet as the intentions behind the smile were, it made her face ache and she let it fade once she heard Ethan’s voice. The emotions in it made her wish that there was something she could do to comfort him, some way to convince him that she was in better condition than she actually was. But god, at least he was alive to feel that way. She didn’t know what she would have done if she had made it out of the wreck alive and he hadn’t.

“I feel...sore,” she mumbled, voice and mind bleary from all the painkillers that were in her system. Though she wished she could think straight, she knew being in agony wouldn’t have made it any easier. Feeling foggy was an acceptable alternative to feeling the way she had when she was still in the car, surrounded by twisted metal and trying to make peace with her death. “And kinda...” She made a vague grumbling noise, attempting to refer to her drugged up state.

She took a slow breath, feeling relieved that breathing felt easier now. “Are you okay? Are you...alright?” As she asked, the arm without the broken shoulder reached out towards him and she gently pressed her fingers against the side of his face.

[illamerit-blog]

A few thinly-veiled threats that he would buy the hospital and have them all fired turned out to be exactly what Ethan should have said in the first place. Of course, maybe he could have said who his parents were, that he basically owned the town, and then that would have worked just as well. Despite the glares he was receiving from both doctors and nurses alike, he was finally getting the updates he wanted. Every so often, a nurse would come out from the operating with an update. Though the time in between was agonizing, he supposed that would be better than having someone to come out and tell him that she wasn’t alive.

A gurney came out from behind the double doors and Ethan stood up as soon as he recognized one of the nurses alongside the bed. He walked towards them so that he could walk beside Clara as they took her to the room she would be staying in. He had decided that he wasn’t going to leave her side if he could help it. Looking down at her was painful. She looked so small lying on the gurney. Bruises littered her body, and he winced when he saw the plaster casts. He placed one hand on top of hers lightly.

Before he entered the room, he took out his phone. ‘clara + me. car accident. at hospital now will call you soon. don’t bother calling me before then’. He typed out the message quickly before sending it to Lucy. If he had Tyler’s number, he would have told him too, but he didn’t and he figured one Bennett wanting him dead was all he needed. He turned his phone off as soon as he confirmed that the message sent. Ethan supposed that Clara would have wanted him to tell her family, even if he did do it hours after the incident.

There was a chair next to the bed, and Ethan quickly decided that was where he was going to stay until she woke up. The beeping and lights from the machines were irritating, but he was thankful for the fact that they let him know that she was still alive. “Clara, I am so, so sorry.” The words were whispered. He knew the doctors were in the room, but he wanted to maintain some semblance of privacy. His words were for her and for her alone.

[apstrusus]

It was nearly an hour before Clara finally woke up. She was groggy and disoriented, feeling as though, well, she had been hit by a car. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been before, more of a dull ache all over than any real sharp pains. But pain was okay, she thought. Pain meant she was still alive. It hadn’t been her time, not yet.

Slowly, she managed to open her eyes, wincing at the sting of bright hospital lights. A heart monitor beeped away beside her, steady and reassuringly even. There were other noises too and the feeling of being terribly restricted by something. It took her a couple seconds to realize that it was the bandages and casts that covered the majority of the damage she had sustained. God, she could only imagine what she looked like.

Her thoughts immediately went to Ethan, to where he was, what he was feeling and how he was doing. He had seemed okay the last time she saw him sitting beside her in the ambulance, but she knew he would have walked on two broken legs just to make sure she was taken care of first, so she worried that things hadn’t been what they seemed. Her eyes searched the room, head tipping to the side carefully.

Brown eyes found him beside her, not in another hospital bed. He was okay. He was safe. It seemed pretty clear that she had taken the brunt of the impact, a fact that she was grateful for if it meant that it had kept him from being hurt any worse. Given the chance to redo it a thousand times, she would pick the same choice to be sitting where she was.

“Ethan...” She croaked out, voice rough from sleep and dull pain. Still, despite it all, she couldn’t help but give him a smile. It was a smile out of joy from seeing him alive, but also a reassurance to him that she, herself, was alright and alive. It was somewhat marred by the gash across her face and the bandage that covered it, but the intent and her usual sweetness was still there.

[illamerit-blog]

The ambulance ride was terrible. He watched, helpless and unable to do anything, as the EMTs worked on her. He should have helped. He should have done something while they were still back at the car. But he hadn’t. He had been too dazed and confused, and unable to comprehend what all was happening. There was just blood everywhere, and he had hurt. His first instinct was that he needed to get help. That was what he did.

Once they got to the hospital, the doctors there took her away from him. They said words like ‘surgery’ and ‘repair’, but all he understood was that they were taking Clara away from him. Once she was out of sight, he felt deflated. He had no will to do anything, or argue against them trying to help him. They stitched up his forehead where he had hit the steering wheel, and had him evaluated for any further head wounds. With no fractures or bleeds, their only concerns were a concussion. Perhaps as docile as he had ever been, he let them evaluate him as they saw fit. Other than a few scrapes and bruises, he was fine. He got off easy.

So many people wanted to talk to him. He only wanted to talk to Clara. But she was off god knows where with so many injuries. The first person to talk to him was a representative from the hospital. They asked him his name and her name, who they should contact. About the insurance. He gave them his insurance information, but he didn’t know about her. Instead he told the hospital to bill him for any treatment they have to her. The next person was a police officer. They took his statement, and told him that no one was jumping to any conclusions.  No one was in trouble yet. The officer just told him they would be in touch.

The hospital staff had instructed him to wait in the waiting room, telling him that someone would be out to get him when she was out of surgery. He didn’t listen. He had sat down in the hall that lead towards the operating room – while he would move if a gurney was moving down the hall, he was dead set on ignoring anyone else who told him to move. Besides the surgeons working on her, he would be the first person to see Clara. He had to be.

[apstrusus]

The process was long and arduous with no guaranteed outcome. There were moments they thought they were going to lose her, that the blood loss had been too much, that the internal damage was irreparable, that her body was simply giving up from all the injuries. But they kept fighting -- and so did she -- to save her life and eventually they managed to get her stabilized after nearly six hours had passed.

She had sustained fairly bad damage from the impact, but the worst had been the shrapnel that came from both cars. Her body with littered with cuts of varying degrees of severity. One that ran deep from her eye down across her jawbone was lucky not to have sliced her jugular. The worst one was from a piece of metal that had embedded itself nearly three inches into her side, requiring parts of her muscles to be put back together. Still, it was incredibly lucky that it hadn’t pierced any of her internal organs.

Other than that, her shoulder, hip, collar bone and three ribs had broken from the impact and she had torn a muscle in her neck. The fact that she was alive and not paralyzed was a miracle, even if she would be recovering for a long time. If the other car had been going even five miles faster, it was almost guaranteed that she wouldn’t have made it. 

After they put her back together as well as they could, leaving her covered in bandages and casts but clean from blood, they went to move her to a room where she could rest. Still unconscious, she was wheeled out of the room and down the hall, pausing only a moment so one of the nurses could begin explaining things to the man that had waited so long for her and instruct him to follow her to a room so Clara could be hooked up to all the monitors and IVs while they waited for her to wake up.

[illamerit-blog]

Ethan heard a gasp from his side and it felt like his heart was being crushed. He couldn’t hear that. He didn’t want to hear that. Not from anyone, especially not from her. “Clara, I’m here, okay? I’m here. I called for help. They’ll be here soon.” He hoped so. When he looked at her, he felt like he wanted to scream. She shouldn’t look at that. Clara was bright and always smiling. This wasn’t Clara. It wasn’t his Clara.

He was able to get out of the car, but online because it wasn’t his side of the car was damaged. It was the passenger’s side that got damaged, and he just had to get to Clara. That was the sole thought in his mind. Clara, Clara, Clara. Ethan managed to stand up, though it took more that a few seconds to regain his balance. His vision had blurred out for a moment, going black, and he leaned on the car as he tried to circle around to her.

Managing to open her door, a surge of panic went through him. He wanted to reach out to her, make sure she was breathing, but he didn’t want to touch her. She looked like a porcelain doll, only one that was bruised and battered. “People are coming, people are coming, I promise.” It was becoming a mantra. There were people who were going to come help. He had called and they had said they were sending out help. He had to believe that it would be soon. The sirens pulled his focus away from her.

“We’re over here.” He leaned on the car, waving his free arm in the air. His voice was hoarse and he kept yelling that, over and over, until the ambulance finally stopped. Was this was relief felt like? From the first ambulance, an EMT came over to his car, and from the second, one went to the car that had hit his. 

“Sir, can you tell me where you’re hurt?” Ethan stared blankly before shaking his head, pointing towards Clara.

“Help her first. You need to help her.”

The EMT reached out a hand towards him, ready to make an excuse about how there was blood on Ethan, that he was clearly hurt. Ethan was expecting that.

“I don’t give a fuck about me right now. Help her now.”

He moved aside so that the man could begin to work on Clara. He watched them put a cervical collar on her, as well as stabilize her airway. He felt utterly helpless. It took two more men to get her on the bodyboard so that they could move her into the ambulance. 

As they wheeled the gurney, he followed behind her. “Sir, I’m afraid you can’t go with her.”

“Like hell I can’t.” Ethan had never been one to take no for an answer and, though every step he took sent aches through his body, he climbed up into the ambulance. He was daring them to tell him to get out.

[apstrusus]

Clara could feel herself crying as her body was overwhelmed by pain, but she was barely conscious of the fact that she was doing it. It was like everything was out of her control and not even her body was her own. Instead of focusing on that -- on the fear that she was losing control because she was dying -- she tried to focus on Ethan.

He was speaking, she knew that much despite the way his words sounded distorted, like he was speaking from a thousand miles away. She could hear him move and she watched as he got out of the car to come around to her side. If she was going to die, at least he was there. At least she wouldn’t be alone. She thought of Lucy and Tyler and another silent sob wracked her body, causing another flash of pain.

Then there were lights, bright and flashing and definitely on an ambulance. Things were moving, people were talking and rushing all around before they made their way to her. It was like things were happening too fast and too slow all at once and it took her several minutes before she realized it was because she was slipping in and out of consciousness. One moment she was in the car, searching for Ethan’s face as the EMTs moved around her, the next she was in a moving ambulance, speeding down the road. Their expressions made her more afraid for her life, but she found her boyfriend and chose to focus on him instead. 

Keep fighting, she told herself. Keep breathing despite the pain. Don’t leave him alone. She knew if she died, he would blame himself. Even without knowing how the crash happened, she knew that he would internalize it and she couldn’t bear the idea of that. She refused to allow him to suffer like that.

Then things were dark again.

When she opened her eyes again, she was being wheeled somewhere in a hospital and all she could see was the ceiling and the doctors above her. Some of the pain had faded, so she suspected they gave her some kind of painkillers. Either that or she was losing sensation as she died, but she couldn’t let herself think like that. As she was brought into a room, there were words like surgery and then a mask. When things went dark that time, it didn’t hurt so much.

[illamerit-blog]

“You know I’d never do that to you.” He might tease and joke, but he didn’t think that he could ever mean those words. He offered her a wide grin, saying, “We’ve got all the time in the world, pretty girl.” Ethan was driving towards the pier. Since it had been fixed up, it was one of his favorite spots in town. It was beautiful, and an easy spot to relax at. Though she might not have thought of it, he believed that she would enjoy it. He looked over at Clara, taking glances between her and the road in front of them. “That’s easier said than done, you know? I mean, of course, you know. You see one version of me and I see another.” He was facing her, not the road. “You do the s–.”

He blew the stop sign. He didn’t have the right of way, and another car had already been there waiting when he reached the intersection. His heart caught in his chest the moment he saw the car through the window to his right. He slammed forward, his seatbelt locking, and his head slammed against the airbag before he sat back upright. Everything seemed to have become loud all at once. It was a mixture of ungodful noises, screeching and scraping – he recognized the sound of glass breaking. It was an instinct but his foot reached towards the brake pedal. The car had already stopped.

Ethan’s head hurt. His body hurt. His face. His mouth. His arms and legs. What happened. What had happened. He reached up, blinking as his fingers came back stained with red. Something was bleeding – was he bleeding? His mouth tasted like iron, and he spit, blood spraying in front of him. Maybe he had bitten his tongue. Where had he been going? He looked around, dazed and confused, when his gaze fell on Clara. His blood ran cold.

Then he saw the other car. This was wrong. This was all wrong. They were supposed to be having fun, enjoying their day. But god there was blood. His blood, her blood. He could see the other car through the window. He only thought briefly about how the other driver was. “Clara.” He reached a shaky arm out towards her, touching her on the shoulder gently. “Clara, please, say something to me.”

There was a beep from next to him. His phone was still on. It seemed ironic to him that a little piece of metal, glass, and plastic was not damaged at all. Who had texted him? He smelt something burning. They needed to get out. They needed help. Help. He grabbed his phone with unsteady fingers, tapping out the numbers: 9-1-1. Someone answered, but it seemed like it had taken an eternity to get to that point. “I think- I think something happened maybe? A-an accident. People are hurt. We’re hurt.” He looked out the window, to get some indication of where they were. “We– we’re near the pier? Two stop signs before, I think. Please. Just we need help. She needs help.”

His voice had turned to a shout.

“Get here fast.”

[apstrusus]

Everything was bright and perfect and good. Ethan was there with her. They were laughing and smiling, going somewhere she didn’t know just to enjoy themselves. She felt better than she ever had, loved and good and whole despite her insecurities. For once, it felt as though her whole life was perfect and she couldn’t have been happier. 

Then everything went black.

When she came to, she felt nothing at all. It might have been shock or something else entirely, but she just felt numb. There were sounds, metal clattering to the ground and a voice that wasn’t clear from somewhere beside her. Something smelled off, but before she could identify it, the rest of her senses became sharp and clear and the agony set in. It was more pain that she had ever felt in her life and she would have screamed if she could get in more than a half breath with the way the twisted metal pressed against her chest. 

There was wetness on her face, on her hands, on everywhere she could feel. Something in her told her that it was blood, but she didn’t want to think about it. She had to get out. She had to move. She had to do something to relieve the pain. Trying to move only made it worse and a barely audible gasp of pain escaped her as her efforts revealed a piece of metal jammed into her side, trying to tear her apart with every breath.

“Ethan...” That was her next thought once the pain allowed her to think -- or perhaps once she realized there was nothing she could do to ease it. Was he okay? Was he safe? “Ethan,” she called out again, turning her head to the side with rough groan of agony. He was there. She could see he was there and breathing and moving. There was blood on him, but she didn’t know how much was his and how much was hers. She didn’t want to know.

“Are you...Are...” Words were nearly impossible through the pain and she coughed roughly, the action sending agony through her whole body. Please, let him be okay.

[illamerit-blog]

“Well, I came to the conclusion that I just couldn’t make the most amazing girl I know walk, not when her company is all I want.” Ethan changed tune quickly. He wanted her to know how much she really meant to him. “Even the devil had a halo once,” he said, keeping his voice light. It was maybe not the best thing for him to say, but he had let himself speak before thinking about it. “Sorry,” he exhaled. He knew how much she disliked his demeaning himself. “Maybe you’ll rub off on me, make me into a better person.”

[apstrusus]

Clara couldn’t help but giggle, even if it made her feel silly how flustered she still got when he said things like that. “I’m glad you didn’t make me walk. I would have been pretty sad if I had to miss out on spending time with you,” she said genuinely. When she was with him, she swore she was happier than she could ever remember being. At his words, however, she frowned, brows furrowing. “You’re a good person, Ethan. I wish you could see what I see when I look at you, but since you can’t, just promise me you’ll keep working on believing in yourself more. You are an angel, I know you are.”

[illamerit-blog]

“Totally the worst.” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I almost didn’t come pick you up because the thought of just being in the car with you for so long was almost unbearable. I was going to make you walk.” That wasn’t true in the least. Clara was the good one – the one who got along with people easily and could give a friendly smile. Ethan could spend every minute of every day with her and never get fed up. With everyone else, he had a short temper and was quick to be rude. He wasn’t sure why (maybe it was the power of spoons) but she had quickly become his everything. “Honestly, though, you’re the angel in this relationship. I’m not.”

[apstrusus]

"Oh, you should have made me walk. I’m sure I’ll drive you crazy before we get anywhere.” Sometimes -- more often than she allowed him to know about -- she did feel like the worst. She was too uncertain, too quiet, too nice, too much of a pushover. She was too much of so many things and yet, somehow, there he was right beside her. Even though he could have any girl he wanted, he wanted her and she would never understand it. “Don’t be silly. I can see your halo. You just need to shine it up a little and you’ll be a perfect angel.”

[illamerit-blog]

“I’m felt a thousand times better the moment I saw you.” That was true. She always brightened up his day. Whatever no-good bullshit he was dealing with was always forgotten about when she was near him. “‘Surprise me’,” he echoed, letting out a laugh as he shook his head. “That’s a terrible answer, I hope you know. I was an expecting an ‘Oh, maybe we could get coffee’, or something. Not ‘surprise me’.” He flicked his eyes towards her for a second, before looking back at the road. He made a right turn at the next light, saying, “A surprise, it is.”

[apstrusus]

It was like some terrible rom-com, some cheesy chick flick that she watched when no one else was around. The slightly awkward nobody with a heart of gold and the charming, popular guy with a softer side people never saw. Personally, she thought all movies would be improved by discussions about spoons as the pair of them so commonly took part in. “I’m just awful, I know.” With him, it was easier to let go and be more open. He made her feel like she had nothing to fear. “I don’t know how you put up with me.”

[illamerit-blog]

Ethan looked at the newest message, rolling his eyes at the emoji. Before meeting Clara, and really getting to know her, he would never have used an emoji. But she was cute and he liked her and she used emojis – this meant that he was going to use emojis at least when he was messaging her. He looked up when he heard her front door slam close, and he reached over the other seat to open her door. “Of course, I did. Every minute spent away from you felt like an eternity,” he sounded overdramatic, “but c’mon, hurry up, get buckled in. We’re wasting time and daylight here.” Satisfied that she was in, he switched gears and pulled away from the curb. “Any requests on where we go? We’ve still got some time to kill before the reservation.”

[apstrusus]

As cheesy as it was, every time she saw Ethan, she was astonished how lucky she was. He was just so much, so bright and beautiful and brilliant and somehow, he was hers. It felt like Christmas morning every day. “Well, I’m here now, so no more wasting away,” she hummed teasingly, leaning over to kiss his cheek -- and maybe leave a faint pink lipstick mark. A laugh escaped her at his urgency. For a moment she considered their options, where they could go just for a bit. “Surprise me.” Not a helpful answer, she knew, but she smiled regardless.

[illamerit-blog]

Ethan tossed his keys as he walked towards his car, catching them quickly before tossing them up again. It was a habit of his that he only did when he was bored. He had spent his morning at his home, doing nothing that was significant. The only thing he wanted to do was see Clara – who, incidentally, was who he was headed to see. The drive to her home seemed quick to him, though he assumed this was only because of his eagerness. He parked the car, picking up his cell phone from the passenger seat to tap out a quick message. ‘Hurry up. I’ve been out here for like five minutes already x’  He sent the text quickly, his smile never leaving his face. It wasn’t the truth, but he was sure she knew that. 

[apstrusus]

Work always had Clara busy, even when she wasn’t in the shop. Most of her morning had been spent going through the previous months’ orders and all her sales, figuring out what would need to be ordered and what they would stop carrying. It wasn’t terrible work, but it was mind numbing and she could think of about a thousand things she would have rather been doing. On the top of that list, as always, was see Ethan. Luckily, they seemed to be on the same page with that and she was on her feet before he even pulled in the driveway. Checking her phone as it buzzed only to send back a single emoji as she grabbed her purse and walked out the door. She did her best not to run to his car, smile bright and brilliant as she slid in. “Did you waste away waiting for me?”

[illamerit-blog]

Those were fair words to say, and he nodded. It struck him then that Bucky wouldn’t have been able to see that gesture. There was going to be an adjustment period, he realized. “Alright, no one in your head. That’s fair.” If anything, perhaps he could get him to talk to Sam. Sam would at least have a better idea on how to help Bucky adapt. Steve would be there the whole time, of course, but Sam knew more than he did about the war-weathered minds of soldiers than he did.

“But you’ll talk to me, won’t you?” He paused, waiting expectantly, but then he kept talking. “You can’t just get trapped inside of your own head. That won’t do anyone any good, especially not you.” Steve couldn’t imagine what would happen if he brought Bucky back with him just to watch him shut down into himself. It wouldn’t be fair.

His mouth went dry. Sure, he could promise it easily. Words were just words, after all. But this was Bucky. Could he lie to him and face the consequences later? Steve decided he could do that, but he didn’t want to. The words sounded strained as he spoke, “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it for you. I won’t want to, but I will.”

[apstrusus]

Bucky hoped that Steve’s words were more than empty air. If he went with him only to wake up one day strapped down with electric currents pulsing through him -- even if the intentions were good -- he couldn’t imagine what he’d do. But he had to trust that the friendship he felt was more than misguided memories, so he just gave a small nod. 

“I’ll...try. Hydra didn’t like it when I talked, but I guess that’s just another thing I’ll have to get used to.” The statement was said casually, but written across his face was all the pain that had been inflicted on him anytime he dared to say anything beyond ready to comply.

Standing his ground, Bucky frowned. “I’m trusting you. Don’t let anyone else suffer because of me.” Let him die as himself, rather than as a Hydra weapon. Let him die remembering his name, his thoughts, his hopes, his fears, and all the things he loved. “I have to get something from the apartment. It’s important.” With that, and a hand still trailing across the wall to guide him, he moved past Steve and out onto the street towards the apartment. His movements were purposeful, lacking tact but driven by purpose.

[illamerit-blog]

This conversation seemed to be getting the two of them nowhere. Both of them were so opinionated – they always had been. It was likely they would stick to their own beliefs until something drastic happened to change one of their minds. Steve wasn’t sure if he would want it to be easier. At least he knew that there were still pieces of his Bucky that remained. Hopefully, time would ease the pain and allow the man he once knew to emerge.

“That’s the thing. I am me. You didn’t kill me. I am still here.” It sounded defensive. It sounded like a weak argument. But it was true. The fact that Steve was Captain America had allowed him to take hit after brutal hit. It allowed him to be thrown around, and nearly drown. While he was hurt, he healed. That was what mattered.

His eyebrows raised at the mention of Bucky knowing Nat. It did make sense, now that he thought back on her reaction. “She doesn’t really talk about her past.” He supposed that if he were her, he wouldn’t talk about it either. Instead, he was a national hero, and his history was on the walls of museums and pasted on page after page on the internet. “Even if he can’t fix it, maybe he can ease some of the pain. Would you want that?”

“You’re not getting it. I am here for you. I always was, and I always will be.” Anger had crept into his voice. It wasn’t directed to Bucky, but at the way the world had come to like directing so much pain towards him and his friend. “Had I known you were still alive after falling off of that train, I would have come back for you.” He shut his eyes tightly, and after all the time that had passed he could still see Bucky falling from the train. So much time had passed, and yet it was like it had just happened.

[apstrusus]

Bucky knew he didn’t have a choice, even if he didn’t want to admit it. If he could go with Steve -- not Captain America but Steve, his best friend that he felt so strongly for that it broke his brainwashing -- he would have done it with barely any hesitation. But Steve was tied to SHIELD, to Tony Stark, to people he trusted less than the barrel of a gun. Unfortunately, he knew that he could only hide from Hydra for so long and if Steve had found him, then Hydra wasn’t that far behind. His choice wasn’t freedom or chains; it was whether or not he trusted Steve to keep him safe. 

The fact that the man in front of him was alive had nothing to do with his enhancements, nothing to do with the fact that he was some hero in skintight red, white and blue. It was the fact that the sound of his voice had sent the Winter Soldier’s heart trembling against his rib cage. It was the fact that one phrase had broken through seventy years of torture and brainwashing to reveal a scared, hurting James Barnes. 

“I don’t want anyone else in my head.” That was the bottom line. No matter what their intentions were, Bucky didn’t think he could stand someone else rewiring his synapses. If he could break his programming, then he would. If not...

Slowly, as if he was weighed down by the entire world, Bucky took a step towards Steve. “If Hydra gets control of me, promise me you’ll kill me. Promise me you won’t let me hurt anyone else. Promise that and I’ll come with you.” 

[illamerit-blog]

Steve couldn’t help the grin that rose on his face. The words that came from Bucky’s mouth were not those of a stranger. It meant that Bucky remembered him – even if he wasn’t conscious of it, a part of his mind still had memories of who they used to be to one another. “Reckoned I’d give it a shot.” He was still smiling.

The smile dropped. He knew that. Natasha had told him and he had seen the file that had some of the information on the Winter Soldier. Most of it had been about where he had spent the seventy years, as well as who he had killed. “Yeah, I guess they don’t. But you know what? I’m still alive. That’s saying something.”

“The same could be said for Natasha Romanoff – that she deserves to be incarcerated. I’d bet many people thought she didn’t deserve a second chance either, but she is still walking around without any tails on her.” He took a deep breath, exhaling sharply. “We can have Stark try and help you, figure out what exactly it was he did. I’m sure he’ll never let me hear the end of this if he ever found out, but he really is brilliant.”

“Bucky, I want to give you a second chance. Let me.”

[apstrusus]

The funny thing about being a superhuman with no sight was that every other sense was heightened to compensate for the missing sense. Because of that, Bucky didn’t even have to listen closely to hear the smile in Steve’s voice, the way his syllables curled upward at the thought of finding the man he lost in the Russian winter. It made him ache at the thought of never being the man Steve wanted him to be. 

Bucky shook his head, a low sigh echoing from him. “If you were anyone else, you wouldn’t be alive. I would have...” He frowned, thinking back to how rattled he had been as they fell out of the helicarrier and he made the choice to pull Steve out of the water. “You were an exception.” Not one that Hydra was pleased about, he imagined, but he hadn’t stuck around to find out.

So it was Natasha nowadays. He wondered how honest she was with them, if she had really adjusted to being one of the “good guys” or if she’d always be just like him, always on the verge of running. “I trained her, you know? Back when she was still working for the Red Room. I was killing fifty years before she was even born.” At the mention of Tony Stark, his breath caught in his throat despite his attempt to remain calm. “I know what they did to me, Steve. I...I remember all of it. I don’t think even a Stark could fix it.”

“What if I turn on you? What if Hydra gets inside my head? What if someone at SHIELD decides that they should take advantage of my programming? If they say the right things, I can’t fight it. Not even with you around.”

[illamerit-blog]

“I really don’t have much anything better to do with my time.” Lie. It was such a blatant lie that Steve’s face wrinkled with distaste. He could be helping Fury, or be with Natasha, or any of the other Avengers. So many things needed to be done, be fixed, yet here he was in New York, doing something that would surely earn him a reprimanding from Fury.

“Buck, you were–” he paused –”you are my best friend.” He thought of their most recent fights, with Bucky being controlled as the Winter Soldier. The highway where Nat got shot, on the helicarrier where for a second Steve swore he was going to die. “It’s gonna take more than just seventy years to change that.”

He let out a small laugh at his joke. It was a bad one, he knew, but any attempt he could make to ease the tension was one he would be taking. “If anyone can convince them that you’re not a criminal, it would be me. But you have to show me that you’re not one. I want to help you. I really do.”

[apstrusus]

“You know better than to try and lie to me.” I know you too well for that. The words slipped out before Bucky could stop them, something familiar yet uncertain. Even with his memory the way it was and his eyesight gone, he could practically see Steve’s nose scrunch up. The image was pleasant in a strange sort of way.

His tongue ran nervously across dry, cracked lips as he considered Steve’s words. “I am a criminal, Steve. I killed more people than you can imagine.” In the time it took for him to suck in an unsteady breath, a thousand faces flashed through his mind, bloody and accusing. “Not bad people. I killed innocents, civilians and people that just got in my way. I nearly killed Nat more than once. I nearly killed you. People don’t like people that try to kill Avengers.”

Or so he had gathered from what he heard on the news. Once upon a time, Captain America was the only superhuman anyone knew. Now it seemed like heroes were everywhere, but the world didn’t seem any better for it. “There’s nothing I can say that will change what I did and even if it could, I can’t promise you I won’t...I can’t promise Hydra won’t take control again. I don’t think I’ll ever really escape them.”

[illamerit-blog]

Steve nodded his head. He did agree with Bucky. While any loss of life was a shame in Steve’s eyes, he understood that when some people died, it made the world a better place for the rest of those living. Himself and Bucky included. Whatever remained of Hydra was sure to be biding their time, and they were not going to be playing fairly.

“To talk?” It was a simple answer, but it was the only one that Steve thought would work. He didn’t want to say he wanted Bucky to be safe, or say anything that might upset him more than he already was. “Is that alright?”

He just wanted Bucky to give him a chance. Wilson had said that Bucky wasn’t the kind to save, but to stop. Steve wasn’t going to allow that no happen, no matter how many people told him otherwise. Maybe some people would give up on him, or want him to be put down. That wasn’t going to happen so long as Steve had a say. 

There was something of Bucky still inside the man in front of him. Steve had seen the flashes of recognition on his face. He knew Steve at least partially. That little bit of memory could be his salvation.

[apstrusus]

“You came all this way to talk?” It was phrased like a question, but the truth was that nothing Steve could say would make him believe it. There was always something more, always a need or a want that went beyond what was presented openly. Of course, Bucky believed that Steve’s intentions were good, but the road to Hell was paved with good intentions.

Lips pressed into a thin line, it was several long moments before he spoke again. “I’m a wanted criminal. If you let me walk away, you’ll be aiding a criminal. If I go with you...” His voice trailed off and there was a sharp intact of breath as he thought about what SHIELD -- or the remnants of Hydra -- might do to him if they had a chance. “I don’t think we can just talk.”

He looked like a lion whose keeper had left the cage door open, scared to be free. The museum had told him all about Steve and his heroics, the way he would save people no matter what the cost and how endlessly kind he was. His memory told him about a kid in Brooklyn that was too brave to back down from a fight, especially when it came to protecting others. Everything he knew told him that Steve Rogers was safe and yet Bucky didn’t know how to step across the threshold of his prison.

[illamerit-blog]

“Someone once said to me they were going to be there for me ‘til the end of the line-” he shrugged his shoulders, his hands stuck in his pockets -“It’s only fair of me to repay the favor.” In truth, Steve didn’t feel like he had to repay his friend back. He wanted to. They always had had each other’s backs. That was a fact he really didn’t want to see change.

Steve supposed Bucky was right in having some trepidation about SHIELD, and any of their allies. There were too many people with associations with HYDRA – the people who turned Bucky’s life into hell – and those with worries about the world But to have worries about Steve? The thought made him sick.

“No, he is not. Nick Fury killed him.” Good thing, too. While Steve had little faith in what was left of SHIELD and where their priorities lay, with Nick Fury at the helm, it was in good hands. “I reckon that’s all for the better now – what do you think about that?”

He took a step closer to Bucky, holding his breath as he did so. It was taking a risk, stepping closer, but he was also using all of self-control to not just reach out and hug his friend. That would be a risky move. He didn’t want Bucky to go off running. While it was likely that Steve would be able to keep up, it would be nicer to not have to do that.

[apstrusus]

There was that phrase, familiar like a dagger in the heart. It was proof that he was who he remembered, an anchor in a sea of stormy memories. It was a promise made a century ago, back when both of them were bright eyed and unscarred, back when they could have never imagined what the future would hold. Back then, shipping off to war meant death or victory, a simple system of success or failure. They never realized that there was so much middle ground and grey area, that living didn’t mean winning and winning didn’t mean a life without loss. 

Would he still have joined up if he knew what would happen? Or would he have stayed home with Steve, convinced the scrawny blond to stay home too and grow old the way people should? If Bucky was honest with himself -- something he was slowly learning how to do -- he didn’t know. The world needed Captain America, but he needed Steve Rogers and he couldn’t ever make a choice between the two.

“I’m...glad he’s dead,” Bucky admitted, though some part of him shot through with pain at the idea of his handler dying. He hated that part of himself, the part still full of torture and brainwashing. “There’s always more Hydra, but at least he’s gone.” Cut off one head and two more grow back. 

Though he couldn’t see the movement, Bucky heard the scrape of Steve’s feet across the dirty alley, moving closer and causing the soldier to do all he could to resist his fight or flight instincts. For a moment he tensed up as if he was going to run, but instead stayed where he was, frozen and scared but unmoving. “What do you want from me?”