It took Steve Rogers three days to track down his best friend. When he finally found him it was at a rinkydink hotel in the middle of nowhere. He knocked several times with no answer before opting to pick the lock. He took a deep breath and let himself into the dim room. The smell of musty wet clothes and dusty hotel carpet met his nose, making him want to retreat back into the hallway. But he had to find Bucky, he had to make sure he was okay.

He found him lying face down on the bathroom tile. His matted dirty hair stained with blood, covering his face. "Bucky?" Steve called quietly, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. He quickly felt for a pulse, and after feeling the weak thrum of blood under his fingers he at least knew Bucky was still alive.

"I'm going to move you to the bed," Steve told him, unsure of if his friend could even hear him. He was grateful that his superhuman strength allowed him to gently pick up Bucky's deadweight without much struggle. He set him down on the cheap foam mattress topper that was serving as the mattress itself, then dug in his bag for some rubbing alcohol. There was a large gash on Bucky's forehead that needed cleaning.

I should probably try to wipe some of the blood away first, Steve thought to himself. He went into the bathroom and found a washcloth. He ran it under warm water and then brought it back to his friend. "If you can hear me, it's Steve. Okay, Bucky? I'm here buddy, I'm here..." He gently pressed the cloth onto the cut, wiping away the dried blood and grime. Bucky's body flinched as Steve tried to make sure the cut was completely clean. "Sorry if this hurts, bud," he told his friend, pouring a small amount of the rubbing alcohol onto the wound.

Steve didn't see any other wounds that were in dire need of attention so he decided to let Bucky sleep, in the morning he would try to do a more thorough inspection.

Steve rolled up one of the towels from the bathroom and stuck it under his head, falling into a listless half slumber on the floor. He slept for a few hours before he heard the distinct sound of glass cracking, coming from the bathroom. There's no windows in there, Steve thought to himself, he's not trying to escape, it must have been the mirror.

Quietly Steve got to his feet and went to the bathroom door. "Bucky? It's Steve… Are you alright in there?"

There was no reply, and suddenly Steve was afraid his friend had really hurt himself.

"I'm coming in Bucky, okay?"

He opened the door to the bathroom, noticing immediately that the glass on the mirror had a radiating shattered web of cracks on it. Thankfully Bucky was too weak to have made the glass fall out of the mirror, but he'd still caused a good deal of damage. Steve stared at his friend, who despite only having a towel on, exposing his muscled frame, looked frail and pathetic. This was not the Bucky Barnes he remembered, nor was it the Bucky he was hoping would remain. He knew he had to help his friend, no matter what. He needed Steve, and Steve was going to do all he could to get him back on his feet.

"I… I don't know what happened," Bucky whispered.

"Its just a mirror, bud," Steve replied, "I'm just glad it wasn't my face this time."

Bucky's expression was one of defeat and despair, he looked miserable. "I don't even know who I am anymore," Bucky said weakly, his body shaking from holding back the urge to break down in tears.

Afraid his legs were going to give out, Steve helped his buddy take a seat on the toilet lid. "James Buchanan Barnes. A mouthful of a name, but it's yours just the same," Steve teased him, trying to give his friend an ounce of humor to latch onto.

"I just meant that…" Bucky's mind whirred, searching for the words to say.

"It's okay," Steve reassured him, "It's really okay. You didn't know, Bucky, it wasn't your fault."

"You should have just… killed me, Steve. I can't… I'm not going to be able to… They're going to try me for treason…"

The remark took him by surprise, but he did his best to mask his shock. Steve took a seat next to Bucky, perching on the edge of the tub. "Kill you? Never. I can't kill my sidekick, what kind of superhero does that?" He let out a soft chuckle, wishing Bucky would lighten up. Steve wanted nothing more than for Bucky to forgive himself. He knew exactly what it was like to wake up after having been 'asleep' for so long, and suddenly feeling like you don't belong. He thought about how to cheer Bucky up, but he was unsure of what tactic to use.

"Though I should kill you for that haircut, geez Bucky. You look like Cousin It," he joked, hoping the slight jab might make Bucky's mood change from one of sadness to at least one of defensiveness. He swore he saw a flicker of a smile on Bucky's lips. "They don't have the best barbers when you're in a cryogenic freezer," he retorted.

Grateful to hear him speak in a more chipper tone, Steve quipped back immediately. "Ah, now that's the Bucky I know! The wise-ass. Always ready with an excuse."

Bucky's mouth flickered into a grin, if only for a moment. His body released some tension and for a moment neither of them said anything. "I'm really sorry, Steve… For everything," Bucky said quietly, after a long while.

"You didn't know, Bucky," Steve said again, hoping Bucky would hear the forgiveness in his voice, "I'm just glad you're okay." He leaned over and patted his buddy on the arm, "Come on, let me get a better look at that cut on your head." He got on his feet, and holding Bucky's hair back with one hand proceeded to inspect the gash at his hairline. It was fairly deep, and thanks to the warm water from the shower it was beginning to drip fresh blood since any scabbing had been washed away. He sauntered out of the room calling to Bucky as he went to find the first aid kit he'd brought along. "We're going to get you back into tiptop shape," Steve said warmly, "Then we'll figure out what to do from there. I'm sure I can pull a few strings, get you a good job in some department… We'll get you a place to live." He popped back into the room and started unpacking the kit, looking for the box of butterfly closures. His eyes settled on the pair of medical shears at the bottom of the box. "Want me to, um, clean you up a bit?" Steve chided, starting to apply the bacitracin to Bucky's cut.

"Don't know if I trust you with those," Bucky retorted, wincing as the bacitracin started to sting.

Steve unwrapped a butterfly closure and gently applied it over the cut. "Aw come on Bucky, it'd be just like the good 'ole days. Before we were both military gents." Finally Bucky was starting to loosen up, Steve knew his teasing was doing its job.

Bucky's eyes drifted to the medical shears on the counter. "I trust you, 'Cap'," Bucky said, handing Steve the shears as though they were a regal sword.

Steve was a bit surprised that Bucky was on board with this plan, but he knew he didn't want to turn his best friend down. That would only dampen his spirits. Bucky turned on the seat so his back was to Steve, sitting as still as could be. Steve gingerly started to figure out the best plan of attack for Bucky's unruly hair. Most of it was going to have to go, Steve noted. His hair was knotted too badly for a comb to work in it. Carefully he started to snip away at the worst of the mats, sending clumps of brown dirty hair to the floor.

"Was it really that cold in Russia, or did you just think the caveman look was suitable?" Steve taunted, turning Bucky's head to check for evenness.

"Shut up, Rogers," came Bucky's defensive reply.

After Steve was done only about an inch of Bucky's hair remained intact, but he could tell his friend was finally starting to feel better. He brushed off his shoulders and pulled him into a standing position, ushering him over to the mirror so he could inspect Steve's handiwork.

"Looking better already, soldier," Steve told him honestly.

Bucky peered at himself in the fragmented mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes, made more noticeable now that he lacked a mangy fringe. But the man in the mirror was starting to look like the Bucky Barnes he remembered.

"We're going to get through this," Steve said reassuringly, "You've just got to trust me, okay? They might call me Captain America, but I'm still just Steve Rogers. And you're Bucky Barnes, so long as that's who you choose to be… I'm with you 'till the end of the line, bud. I'm here for you…"

Bucky turned and wrapped Steve in his arms. "Thank you," he choked through his sobs, tears starting to drip onto Steve's shoulder. "Thank you, bud."