Well... this is it. I really think this will be the last chapter. It feels right to end at 10 chapters, and this also feels like a good ending chapter. I want to say a huge, gigantic THANK YOU to all of you truly wonderful people who asked so kindly for just ONE more chapter, and who have read and reviewed and been with me for this whole ride. It's been such a pleasure!

In this chapter, there is a little bit of everything. I want to give shout-outs to StardustOwl and Ohgress, who gave me a couple of great suggestions that truly inspired me for this chapter. Thank you so much guys! :D I hope it lives up to what you were thinking of. :) (as before, I'll say what they were at the end to avoid spoilers)

Sam shows up a lot more in this chapter, because he is awesome, but there is still plenty of Steve, because Steve and Bucky together are the BEST.

WARNINGS: Language. And shameless cuddling. All the usual suspects. ;)

I own nothing. Zip. I hope you enjoy.

P.S. This is incredibly long.

x

"I thought we were done with all this... No, no, but I did think I didn't have to answer to you anymore... Yes, I really did just say that..."

Steve is in the bedroom, arguing with someone on the phone. He's left the door open this time though, and it makes Bucky feel good, because he's pretty sure that means Steve doesn't feel like he has to hide his conversations from him anymore.

He's sitting at the kitchen table, on Steve's laptop. They've only been back in Washington for three days, but already he feels more at home here than he ever did in Stark Tower. Maybe because it's just him and Steve, and it feels a bit... familiar.

Like the old days?

Steve's been showing him how to use the computer, and he's been using Google maps to look at their old place in Brooklyn. Using "street view" he can get a pretty good look at it, and it does trigger some memories – familiar rooms – the kitchen maybe? He remembers a couch, too, and wallpaper, but nothing is completely clear. He wants to see it in person, right in front of him, but they just left New York, so he knows it'll have to wait.

Steve comes out of the bedroom quickly, his face a mask of frustration, and tosses his phone in the direction of the couch. It doesn't quite make it, hitting the side and falling to the floor, and he doesn't bother to pick it up. Instead he goes to the fridge and opens the door, staring into it blankly.

"Who was that?" Bucky asks, trying his best to keep his voice level. The muscles in his shoulders are already getting tense. He doesn't like seeing Steve upset, and whenever he is, it usually means something's going on that Bucky isn't going to like either.

Steve closes the fridge door rather harder than necessary, then pulls out a chair and sits down hard at the table, sighing.

"That was Nick Fury."

Steve's eyes are saying everything; Bucky doesn't even need to hear him say it.

"You have to go?"

Steve rubs his jaw. "He wants me to." He glares out the window, and Bucky watches him, unsure.

"Do you have to?"

Steve sighs again. "I don't want to. But... Fury wants to talk. He says just because S.H.I.E.L.D. is done doesn't mean the Avengers have to be. He wants to talk about the future, and... he thinks he might have some intel on Hydra."

He finally looks at Bucky then, and his usually warm eyes are like ice. "And when I look at it that way, I've definitely still got... things to avenge."

People. You.

Bucky hears the unspoken words loud and clear. I want to go with you, I want to be there. I want revenge too. But he knows, he knows without a doubt that he is not ready for that yet. His right arm still aches sometimes if he puts too much strain on it, and that's just the least of his worries. The very thought of getting involved with Hydra again so soon – even if it is to take them down – is enough to send him into a panic attack even on the best of days. Sometime in the future... yes. But not now. He shivers a little and Steve's hand is immediately on his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, Buck. I'm not too thrilled about it either. But it's just a meeting. We're not doing anything yet, so I'll be back pretty quick."

Bucky makes himself focus on Steve, push Hydra out of his head. Steve is looking like a kicked dog again, and Bucky has to smile.

"It's okay, Steve. I'll be all right. I'm... stronger than last time. I'll be okay."

Steve's expression melts into a proud smile, and he pats Bucky's arm and leans back. "I think so too. But... I was thinking maybe Sam could come over and keep you company. What do you think?"

Bucky's first instinct is to balk at the idea, but he's surprised to find that after hardly any consideration, he doesn't actually mind the thought so much.

He's only seen Sam the one time so far, but in the few hours that they spent with him having lunch and catching up (well, Steve and Sam caught up, Bucky had listened and breathed and studied and assessed Sam as much as he could without being too obvious), he'd made a good impression.

Bucky hadn't felt threatened by him at all, and Sam had seemed almost supernaturally aware of things that would bother him, not mentioning Hydra or that day on the helicarrier or Alexander Pierce or anything, really. He'd kept the conversation firmly between "all the awesome things we're going to do now that you guys are back" and "how were things in Manhattan?" and Bucky had felt... okay. Maybe not one hundred percent, but okay.

And really, if Steve isn't going to be around and it's a choice of being alone for two days or having Sam around... he just might choose Sam.

"All right," he says slowly, and Steve's eyebrows fly up almost comically fast.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Bucky shrugs, but he can't help smiling at Steve's face. "I guess I wouldn't mind. Better than being alone."

"That's what I thought." Steve is grinning openly at him, and he reaches over to squeeze the back of Bucky's neck. "Okay."

X

He can't sleep that night, which is nothing new, but this time it's not nightmares, it's the thought of Steve leaving.

He's currently sleeping on a mattress next to Steve's bed, so thick and comfortable it might as well be a regular bed – and it really does help him to be near Steve at night.

It doesn't stop the nightmares. But it does make a world of difference when he wakes up panting and whimpering, cowering away from an imagined horror, and Steve is instantly there, leaning over the side of the bed, ready with a gentle touch and soothing words that bring him back to the here and now.

And on the really bad nights(well, he's only had one so far), when he woke up screaming (and possibly crying), Steve had immediately pulled Bucky up into his own bed, prepared to do whatever he needed to feel safe – talked to him, hugged him, and wrapped him in a strong, firm hold that wasn't so much a hug but something for him to brace himself in and come to the realization that everything he just saw was not real and that he was not alone and he was safe.

But tonight he's just lying awake, not really having any concrete reason for not falling asleep except for the knots in his stomach at the thought of Steve leaving him for two days.

Come on Bucky... didn't you just assure Steve earlier that you'll be fine? That you're stronger now?

I am... I am stronger now but... I still don't want him to go. And that means a night without him, too. Oh God, Bucky. Pull yourself together.

He rolls over and buries his face in his pillow.

Just a few hours and he's gonna go. I don't want him to go. They're going to want him to go after Hydra and what if –

Steve shifts on the bed above him, and Bucky instinctively looks up. Steve is leaning over the side of the bed, looking down at him.

"Buck? You awake?"

He debates not answering, because it'll only make Steve worry, but even after all this time he is still too conditioned to answering when someone asks him a question, and so he grunts in reply.

"I thought so." Bucky can hear the smile in Steve's voice. "I can practically hear you thinking."

Steve's hand is on his back suddenly, rubbing comfortingly between his shoulder blades, and the tension starts to dissipate from his muscles within moments.

He doesn't move, closing his eyes and breathing deep, concentrating on Steve's hand, which settles at the small of his back and stays there, heavy and warm.

"It'll be okay, Buck." Steve's voice is a bit funny; Bucky isn't sure if it's cause his neck is at an awkward angle on the edge of the mattress or if he's emotional. "I'm only gonna be a phone call away."

X

Steve had managed to get Bucky to drift off for a few hours last night, but it obviously wasn't enough, and he's still tired. He's sitting on the bed miserably, watching Steve throw a few items into an overnight bag.

"So Sam and I were thinking... I told you what Sam does, right? How he works with war veterans suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?" Steve throws the last bit over his shoulder as he goes into the bathroom, coming back out a second later holding his toothbrush.

"Yes." Bucky looks at the comforter on Steve's bed.

"Well Sam and I were thinking you might want to go to one of his meetings," Steve goes on, and when Bucky finally looks up at him, Steve's face is all glowing and hopeful.

A much smaller Steve, standing outside their apartment in Brooklyn with that same face...

"Only if you want, of course. But Sam's really good at what he does and you might find it... helpful." Steve carefully folds a t-shirt into his bag and starts to zip it closed, and that's when they hear a knock.

Steve touches Bucky's arm on his way to the door, but Bucky remains on the bed.

Yesterday this seemed like an okay idea, but now doubts are starting to crowd his mind.

What if Sam was only being nice to me before cause Steve was here? What if he was just waiting for an opportunity like this?

He remembers Steve's words from a couple of days ago when Bucky had asked if he was sure about Sam: "I am one hundred percent sure, Buck. If I wasn't, we wouldn't be going back and you wouldn't be meeting him, ever."

And he trusts Steve, he trusts Steve like he trusts no one else.

But...

"Hey man." Sam is standing in the doorway, his own overnight bag in hand, smiling. "How are you?"

Bucky feels trapped for a quarter of a second, until Steve walks past Sam into the room with them, and then he swallows hard. "I'm okay. How – how are you?"

The words feel foreign in his mouth, exchanging pleasantries is not something he does often. He holds out his hand - willing it not to tremble - because he thinks that might be the right thing to do, even though it's the second time he's meeting Sam.

"I am great." Sam grins, shaking his hand. His eyes are soft and friendly. "Glad to be out of my house for a bit." He looks at Steve, who is hovering nearby with worried eyebrows. "When you leaving, man?"

"Now," Steve says regretfully. "So you have my number, right Sam? Just in case –"

Sam is nodding already, still smiling. "I've got it, Cap. Don't worry. I've kind of had it for months." He winks, and Steve sighs, looking sheepish.

"Right. Sorry. You'll call me if you or Bucky need anything?"

"Definitely. Bucky, you'll let me know if you want me to contact Steve?"

Bucky nods immediately, and Steve nods back. "Okay. Good. All right..." He looks at his watch quickly. "I need to go."

Bucky follows him to the door, standing a little aside as Steve talks to Sam. He's not really listening at all to what they're saying, his mind is solely on This will be the first night without Steve since that one when I remembered the train accident. He shivers, remembering all the blood and Stark's horrified face.

"Bucky?"

He snaps back to the present. Steve is watching him, his face slightly concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." He smiles, because he knows that Steve wants him to be okay, and he wants to be okay for Steve.

"Okay." Steve looks unsure still. "So listen, call me if you want. Any time, okay? I don't care if I'm in talking with Fury, I'll step out. Okay? Will you?"

"I will." Bucky lightly pushes Steve's arm, trying for a light-hearted smile, and he thinks that he didn't quite succeed when Steve abruptly pulls him into a hug.

He finds himself clinging to Steve's jacket like a lifeline, trying his hardest to control the trembling that seems to be suddenly running through his entire body.

Don't leave me here, don't leave me here. I can't...

Steve is holding him so tight it almost hurts, but it makes him feel safe too, and he presses his face into Steve's shoulder and wishes Steve would take him with him. But Steve lets go of him, backing away quickly, his hands trailing gently off Bucky's arms. "I'll be back soon. Bye, Buck. Sam."

And he's gone.

Bucky wants to cry. He looks at the closed door and his metal hand twitches, wanting so badly to open it and go after Steve, but he turns his head a little and sees Sam and immediately his guard goes up, his emotions drawing back.

He's wary of what Sam must be thinking, but honestly, all he can see in Sam's face is deep understanding.

"He'll be back, bud," Sam says, and his face is so calm and kind that Bucky has to look away, because his emotions are rising to the surface again and he will not cry in front of Sam.

For a moment he's afraid they're just going to stand in the hallway awkwardly until Steve gets back, but then Sam starts talking.

"So for lunch I was thinking sandwiches... Steve said he's got some cold cuts in the fridge. And for dinner, I'm thinking of making spaghetti. I make a mean spaghetti sauce, even if I have to say so myself. Trust me, man, you want to try it. You like spaghetti?"

He's walking past Bucky, heading into the kitchen, and Bucky instinctively follows him, unsure of what else to do. "I don't know," he says after a moment, realizing Sam is waiting for an answer.

He waits for a reaction similar to Tony's when he'd first heard Bucky couldn't remember what french fries were – shock, horror, gasping, pity – but Sam's face doesn't even change.

"Well you will after this, I can promise you that." Sam opens his overnight bag and pulls out a box of pasta. "Yeah, I didn't just pack clothes in here." He laughs as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients for dinner, and Bucky stands in the doorway and watches him, his thoughts still trailing after Steve, wondering how far away he is by now.

X

By the time dinner rolls around, he's feeling a bit better. Sam is incredibly calm and friendly, not once seeming frustrated at Bucky's silence or they way he keeps jumping when Sam moves too suddenly.

He also doesn't feel the need to talk constantly, which Bucky appreciates, but he doesn't let things get awkward, either. Bucky isn't sure how he does it – it's just something about Sam, he makes everything sort of comfortable.

They're sitting in the living room watching TV when Sam pats the arm of the couch. "I think it's time to start the spaghetti sauce. It takes a while, and I don't want us to be eating at ten o'clock at night. That wouldn't be too fun, and I told Steve I wouldn't let you starve, so..."

He laughs, and Bucky half-smiles, watching Sam walk to the stove.

He watches, fascinated, as Sam starts carefully putting ingredients into a big pot, humming to himself and seeming perfectly at ease, as always.

Should I ask if he wants help?

Something in the back of his mind wants to help, to not just sit here and watch, but I don't know how to cook.

Maybe he can teach me?

He shudders at the thought of standing at the stove that close to Sam, and he has to squeeze the arm of the couch hard to not keep shaking.

"Do – do you want – help?" His voice comes out all tiny and unsure, but Sam just looks at him, eyebrows raised, seeming pleased.

"Hell yes. The sauce is a bit sensitive though, so maybe I should finish that. But I want to make a salad to go with it, so do you want to do that?"

So that's how he ends up standing at the kitchen table tearing up lettuce. He can't do that with a glove on, so he's ripping it up with his metal hand, and he's a bit worried he might end up mangling it all but Sam doesn't seem even slightly concerned, which makes Bucky feel a bit more secure.

By the time they're sitting down for dinner, Bucky's stomach is growling. The sauce smells amazing, and Sam hands him a heaping plate of pasta. "I hope you like it. If you don't, that's okay, but I'll be disappointed."

Bucky looks at him quickly, and Sam smiles, his dark eyes bright. "I'm kidding, bud."

Fortunately, the food is amazing, and Bucky cleans his whole plate before speaking again, and even then it's only because Sam is clearly waiting for a comment.

"It was... really good," Bucky offers, hoping it's the right thing to say. "Thank you."

Sam's face splits into a grin. "You, are very welcome, Bucky. Glad to hear it."

X

After dinner, he feels pleasantly full and warm, and he sits on the couch with Sam, trying not to fall asleep. Sam is only at the other end of the couch, but he feels safe.

If Sam was going to do anything, I think he would have done it by now.

Sam is flicking through the channels, his feet up on the coffee table, looking infinitely relaxed.

"So Steve told me he was thinking you might want to come to one of my VA meetings," he says, and Bucky's shoulders immediately tense. "I'm supposed to be having one tomorrow. So here's the deal. You can stay here, if you want. It's only an hour long. Or you can come with me."

Bucky avoids his eyes, plays with the hem of his shirt. "I don't know – anything about it."

"That's okay. You don't have to. The basic idea is, I try and help people who are suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I try and help them get back to an every day life. Understand how to deal with the things they're feeling."

Sam pauses, looks over at him, and his eyes are different now, darker, and Bucky thinks maybe Sam is a bit scared too and he's just better at hiding it.

"They've all been through things like you," Sam goes on, and when Bucky's eyebrows shoot up questioningly, he smiles a bit. "Well, not exactly like you. But... the same idea. You'll see. If you come, I mean. It's totally your choice. You can decide tomorrow, if you want."

"Okay." Bucky watches Sam for a few more seconds after he looks away, and he sees something familiar there that he can't quite place. Something that makes him feel like... bad things have happened to Sam too. Part of him wants to ask, but he knows first-hand what it's like to have someone suddenly bring up your past, so he doesn't.

His eyes keep drifting shut slowly, and he keeps jumping awake, because I really don't want to sleep with Sam here... even if he isn't going to do anything I don't want to have a nightmare and – and Steve not be here.

The thought makes him shiver, and he pulls his knees up, pressing into the arm of the couch and lifting his head a bit to hopefully stay awake.

Sam's phone suddenly rings and Bucky jumps, the sound surprisingly loud in the silence.

"Sorry about that," Sam says, quickly answering it. "Hello? Oh, hey man. How's it going? He's good, Steve. We're good."

Bucky snaps into full awareness, looking quickly over at Sam, who smiles at him, still talking.

"We haven't decided yet. Hopefully, though. How's things there with your spy buddies?" Sam laughs, and Bucky just sits there, frozen, waiting. "Want to talk to him? Yeah of course, he's right here."

Sam holds out the phone to Bucky, and he takes it quickly, his hand trembling. He doesn't really know how to use phones, but he's seen Steve on his enough times and so he just puts it to his ear the way he's observed everyone else doing.

"Steve?"

Sam gets up and goes into the kitchen, leaving him alone, and Bucky is grateful.

"Hey, Buck!" Steve's voice sounds different, far away, and Bucky's chest aches with loneliness. "How're you doing, bud?"

"I'm okay," Bucky says, biting his lip. Not really. Sam is kind but... he's not you. "Are you all right?"

"I'm totally fine, Buck." Steve sounds relaxed, anyway. "How's it going with Sam?"

"Good," Bucky answers honestly, glancing toward the kitchen. "It's good." He wants to ask Steve if he's coming back soon, but he already knows the answer, and it's tomorrow night. Not soon enough. "Did you talk to Fury yet?"

"We started talking." He hears Steve smother a yawn. "Aren't you tired, Bucky? It's late."

"Not really," Bucky lies, and there's a few seconds of silence.

"You can sleep in my bed if you want," Steve offers.

"Okay. Thanks." Bucky looks at the floor, wishing he could ask Steve to come back. I need you.

He hears Steve say something to someone in background, his voice muffled, and then he sighs. "I'm sorry, but I'd better get going, Buck. I just stepped out for a few minutes to call. Try and get some sleep, okay? If anything... happens during the night, you can call me. Or tell Sam to. All right? I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Bye, Steve." He hates how young and needy his voice sounds.

"Bye, Bucky." The line goes dead, and Bucky takes the phone away from his ear, looking warily at the screen.

"All done?" Sam leans into the room.

Bucky holds out the phone. "I don't know how to - make it end."

Sam comes over to take it, and Bucky pulls his arm back, curling against the arm of the couch and pulling his knees up again. He suddenly feels very small and alone.

"You okay, Bucky?"

Sam's voice is gentle, but Bucky can't look at him, he's afraid he's going to cry if he does, so he just looks at his knees. He really doesn't want to be around Sam anymore, but the last thing on earth that he wants to do is go to bed.

The way I'm feeling right now... if I even manage to get to sleep, I'll have nightmares all night.

Sam sits down next to him, still keeping a respectful distance. "You miss him, huh?"

Bucky eyes him warily, but he sees only compassion in Sam's eyes, and so he nods, clenching his jaw, his gaze falling to the floor.

"That's okay. You're allowed," Sam says gently. "Steve's pretty great, after all. Hell, I miss him too." He stretches out his legs again, stares at the TV somewhat blankly. "Feel like pulling an all-nighter?"

Bucky glances at him quickly, his chest aching, and Sam smiles. "I mean - stay up all night? I'm not tired either."

So they do.

Bucky isn't even remotely tired anymore. Talking to Steve just made his absence more obvious, and he finds himself longing for his friend's comforting presence.

Don't know who I am without you, Steve.

Despite his best efforts to stay awake, Sam falls asleep somewhere around three o'clock in the morning, his mouth slightly open, limbs limp and relaxed.

Bucky does not. He huddles on his side of the couch and stares at the TV, not really watching it at all, counting down the hours. At about five o'clock in the morning, he makes a decision.

I think I will go to Sam's... meeting. Anything is better than staying in this house alone. I don't belong here without Steve.

X

He stands in front of the mirror, studying his reflection. His hair is clean at least, falling in slight waves to his shoulders, but that's about all he can find that's good about his appearance. His eyes are too dark, underneath too, and there's a whole day and a half of beard-growth shadowing his jaw. He rubs a hand over his face and looks away, reaching for his jacket.

The thought of going out around people he doesn't know without Steve there seems kind of insane, actually.

What am I doing? His stomach is in knots. I just don't want to be here alone. I can't be. I'm going to go crazy. Crazier.

He pulls the glove on over his metal hand, and with the whole thing covered up he guesses he can pass for just a regular, miserable looking young guy.

"Ready to go?" Sam is standing in the doorway, wearing a button-down shirt and dress pants.

Bucky flushes, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't have anything to wear... like that. Is this okay?"

"You can wear anything you want, don't even worry about it. I'm the guy who's doing the talking, I've got to be up at the front of the room and look somewhat presentable so people might actually want to listen to me." Sam smiles. "You're fine like that."

X

Being in the car is somewhat relaxing, as always, but it's not a very long drive, and it's weird being in the car with someone else other than Steve.

Plus he spends most of the drive worrying that he won't be able to act normal around anyone at Sam's meeting, and maybe Hydra will find me there, and by the time they get there he is just a bundle of nerves – he has to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering because he's trembling, and he can barely open the car door his hands are shaking so much.

Sam starts to walk towards the building, and Bucky hangs back, taking in every single inch of it. Snipers? His eyes go to the roof, then fall to the upper windows – someone is moving around up there. His left hand twitches, and he blinks, taking a step back.

"Bucky?"

He forces himself to look at Sam, who is standing only a few feet from him. "Everything all right?"

"I don't know," he answers honestly, looking back towards the car.

I changed my mind. I don't want to be here. Steve?

"You want to just come inside and see? I promise if you want to leave, I'll drive you home. Everybody won't mind waiting for a bit. What do you think? Just take a look?" Sam doesn't touch him, even though Bucky's sure he would like to take his arm or something, pull him towards the building.

He shifts his weight uneasily, still looking towards the top of the building. "What's up there?"

"Where?" Sam looks up with him, sees the movement in the top window. "Up there? Offices. This is a Veteran's Affairs building. That person you see moving around up there is Alicia Sampson. She used to be in the military too, served in Iraq. Now she's working here." He smiles. "She's a nice lady."

Bucky stares for a bit longer, watches her move away from the window and disappear. Sam starts to walk again, and Bucky follows him.

Inside it's cool and smells like something he can't quite place, but it's familiar. The room isn't huge, but it's big enough that he doesn't feel claustrophobic. There are a few people already there, and Bucky is happy to see that they are pretty much dressed just like him, not like Sam.

All three people look up as they walk in, and Bucky's stomach swoops, fear making him stop dead, but they only glance at him and then look away again.

"Sit wherever you want," Sam says quietly. "I'm going to go to the front and set up. Come and get me if you want to go, or for any reason, okay?"

Bucky nods and heads straight for the back of the room. The people who are already here are sitting nearer the front, so it's more open and he doesn't have to face them.

One of the men turns around though, and his face is friendly. "Hey, how's it going? First time?"

Bucky doesn't really know what he's talking about, but he nods anyway, and the man nods too.

"It's a start, right? I'm Mike."

Bucky struggles for a second, trying to make up his mind, finally going with "James." He can barely meet Mike's eyes, but the other man doesn't even seem to notice.

"Nice to meet you, James." Mike turns back around to the front, and that's it. That's it. But his right hand is sweating and his heart is pounding.

X

There's a lot more people in the room now, but they've all kept a respectful distance from Bucky, as though sensing his unease, and there's still mostly empty chairs around him.

When he looks around the room, he's surprised to see that some of the other people have the exact same look in their eyes that he sees in his own every time he looks in a mirror. Empty. Scared. Ashamed.

And once Sam starts talking, he finds himself listening as hard as he can.

"We all did stuff over there that we regret. And it's hard to accept it now. Things that we did over there because we had to, because we didn't have a choice – over here, it seems unreal. Like a different world."

Sam looks down at the floor for a second, then back up. "Sometimes it feels like a bad dream. Sometimes we block it out, try and forget about it, because it's just too painful to remember."

Bucky shifts a little in his chair. Remember. There's something coming to the surface that he doesn't want to think about, and he blinks, trying to push it back.

"And we blame ourselves. We think it's our fault. Maybe we think we're bad people, because of what we did over there. Maybe we're ashamed."

An arm around his neck, squeezing. He pulls at it with his hand, trying desperately to get air, but when his hand falls away it gets trapped and there's no way, no way to get rid of the arm – no way to breathe –

"...it's perfectly normal, these feelings. Shame. Regret. Guilt..."

Waking up. The ground below him is moving - actually moving, not just because of his dizziness - but he stands up anyway, because there's something he needs to do and he has not followed through on his orders yet.

Above and in front of him the man is climbing, and he does not understand where the man is going but he knows it must be important, and so he takes out his gun with his left hand because his right hurts too much, and he fires.

"...remember that we were following orders. Sure, sometimes we had a choice. But sometimes we didn't."

Horrible pressure on top of him. He is stuck here, he is going to die. But the man is next to him suddenly, bleeding, but alive, and he is lifting the pressure off, slowly but surely, and the Soldier pulls himself out from underneath with his metal arm and stands unsteadily.

"You know me," the man says, and his blue eyes are memory itself.

I don't remember, I don't remember, I don't remember. Stop!

He is beating the man to death, because he can't remember and he doesn't want to remember and everything the man is saying hurts. There is blood everywhere and his heart is going to explode – he has shot this man and struck this man and he will kill this man now, because - "...to the end of the line."

"...people we couldn't save..."

Sam's voice seems far away, so far away.

The man is gone, falling, falling down into the water and he could have caught him, but he doesn't, because he doesn't want to remember, but he stares and stares and watches the little blue and red speck get smaller and smaller and I do remember though. I remember.

But the man is gone. He hangs onto the metal above him and he stares down into the grey water and there is nothing. The man is gone and I can't go back, I can't go back now. I remember. I remember I remember. STEVE. I don't know anything but I do know that I know you. There is no going back now. I am lost.

He lets go and falls.

He stands abruptly, and his chair falls over with a resounding crash.

Steve, Steve, Steve, I almost killed you. I wanted to kill you. I killed a lot of people.

He is leaning against the wall, he thinks he possibly might be screaming, because his mouth is open and his throat is straining and raw but he can't hear anything. He slides down to the floor, to his knees, and slams his fist into the wall.

I almost killed him.

A hand touches his back, so gentle, and Bucky presses his head against the wall and doesn't look. Go away, go away. The hand is warm, and it trails warmth behind it as it moves up to his shoulder.

"Steve?" It comes out as a croak. His throat burns. He turns his head, tries to see.

"No, Bucky. It's Sam."

Bucky whimpers, presses his head against the wall so hard that it hurts.

Steve. Steve, I need to say I'm sorry.

"I almost killed him." He isn't really talking to Sam, more to himself, but Sam answers anyway.

"But you didn't."

"But I tried." Bucky presses his hand against the wood of the wall, tries to ground himself.

"Yeah. But you didn't." Sam is very near, crouched down. "Bucky." Sam's voice is gentle, but firm. "Come on back now. You're okay. Steve's fine. You didn't kill him. You stopped, remember? You stopped."

The room is getting a bit clearer now – it is empty behind Sam. A few chairs are overturned, and it is empty.

Bucky realizes he is panting, chest heaving, his t-shirt damp with sweat. I didn't hear anyone leaving.

He finally manages to focus on Sam's face, and Sam looks completely and totally calm. "Bucky?"

"Where's – where's Steve?" His voice falters, breaks.

"He went to meet Nick Fury, remember? He's going to be back tonight." Sam clasps his hands together, sits down on the floor.

Bucky blinks, trying to remember. His eyes feel hot, and there's something tickling his cheek. When he reaches up to swipe it away, his sleeve comes away wet. I didn't want to cry in front of Sam. He ducks his head. "I shot him, Sam. A lot of times."

"Yeah, and he broke your arm and strangled you a bit, if my memory serves me." Sam shrugs. "We do what we have to do when we're trying to survive."

"I wasn't trying to survive, I just – did it," Bucky says, frustrated. He doesn't get it.

"No? You weren't trying to survive? You mean you weren't trying to – finish - your mission because you knew what Hydra would do to you if you didn't?"

Sam's dark eyes are so completely free of judgement that it makes Bucky's eyes hot again. He swallows hard, looks down at his gloved hand on the floor.

"Maybe."

"Yeah," Sam says quietly. "I know. It's all a bit blurry, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He looks back up at the room again, realizes with a pang that he kind of ruined Sam's meeting. "I'm sorry, for..." He doesn't know how to finish that sentence, but Sam cuts him off.

"No."

He says it so abruptly that Bucky pulls back a little, his heart skipping a beat, because he knows that word, he's heard 'No' a thousand times and it's almost always followed by punishment.

"It's okay," Sam says immediately, holding his hands up, picking up on Bucky's fear. "I meant – no, don't apologize. Don't ever apologize for something like that. Okay? All those people who were here... they understand. You think this is the first time a veteran has had flashbacks in this room? It's not, and it won't be the last, either. We can all handle it. All right? No apologies."

Bucky doesn't know what to say, so he stays silent. His legs feel shaky, and he's not sure he can stand, so he doesn't move, he just keeps his back against the wall and breathes, trying to stop shaking.

Sam doesn't move either, and he doesn't say anything else, he just sits there and rests his chin on his clasped hands.

"Is tonight soon?" Bucky asks finally, not even caring how pathetic he might sound.

Sam doesn't laugh at him; he just looks a bit sad. "Not for another couple of hours, man. Do you want me to call him? My phone's right here." He pulls it out of his pocket.

He wants to talk to Steve so bad. He wants to see him, make sure he's okay, hug him, because right now when he tries to picture Steve, all he can see is his bloody face on the helicarrier. The blood that I drew. But he does remember that Steve's coming back, he remembers now that Steve hasn't abandoned him and he's not dead.

"No," he says finally, and it takes way too much effort. "It's okay."

"You sure?" Sam holds up his phone, raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah." Bucky looks away, because he knows if he keeps looking at the phone he's going to change his mind.

Sam puts it back in his pocket.

"Are we going to stay here?" Bucky asks, because Sam hasn't made any move to leave.

Sam shrugs. "Do you want to?"

"No. Not really." Bucky puts his hand on the wall, prepares to stand up.

"Okay. Let's take you back home then." Sam stands up, holds out his hand, and after only a moment's hesitation Bucky takes it and allows Sam to help him up.

X

When they get back to Steve's place, Sam offers him dinner, but he's not hungry. The house still feels empty and not like home, and he longs for Steve's company.

He is beyond exhausted, and even kind of sore - as though all that remembering took an actual physical toll on him – and instead of joining Sam to watch TV, he goes to the bedroom and curls up on Steve's bed.

He isn't planning on sleeping, but as he lays there in the growing dark, listening to the soft sound of the television from the other room, his eyes just drift shut of their own accord.

X

"Buck?"

He's so tired, so very, very tired, and his head feels like it's a thousand pounds. There's a warm hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles, and he wants to just lay there forever.

But that voice is so familiar, it's a voice that he needs to answer more than he needs to keep sleeping, so he drags himself from the comforting blackness and opens his eyes.

He's still curled on his side, facing the door of the room, but now someone is in the space between him and the door, sitting on the bed, and he looks up, up, and it's Steve.

He looks tired too, but his eyes are soft and fond and Bucky starts to sit up immediately. "Hey, Buck. How are you?"

Bucky doesn't answer, he just throws himself into Steve's arms, buries his face in Steve's neck, holds on as tight as he can.

"Hey, Bucky." Steve laughs a little, sounding surprised, and he wraps his arms around Bucky's back and holds him just as tight.

Steve is so warm and solid, so alive, and Bucky is so glad to see him, so completely content. He leans against Steve, gives over all his weight, and Steve sighs softly in his ear.

"You all right? How did it go? Sam told me what happened at the meeting. Are you okay?"

He doesn't even want to answer, he's so comfortable, but again, Steve is asking. "It went okay. I'm fine." His voice is muffled in Steve's shirt, and he shifts his head just the tiniest bit. "How did your meeting go? Are you okay?"

Steve laughs. "It went okay, too. And I'm totally fine too. Just tired." He leans his head against Bucky's a little, and Bucky curls his fingers in the back of Steve's shirt instinctively. He's starting to drift again, breathing evening out and getting deeper, and Steve doesn't try and wake him.

X

They all have breakfast the next morning together, because Sam stayed in the guest room.

Bucky is feeling a million times better. He had a good night's sleep last night, waking up only once, and even then he was just warm and comfortable, pressed against Steve's back, and he'd gone right back to sleep.

Steve is all bright this morning, too, and doesn't even look remotely tired.

"You know what we should do?" Sam says suddenly.

"What?" Steve looks up at him, and he's squinting thoughtfully, looking out the window.

"We should go for a run." Sam raises his eyebrows. "Right? Am I right? Bucky, I would love to see you go up against Captain Perfect here. And I've been running a lot, I might be able to take both of you. What do you think? Huh?" He grins, and Steve shakes his head, smiling too.

"What do you think, Bucky? You want to race this guy?"

X

"I have a bad feeling about this all of a sudden," Sam says.

They're standing in the park near the Washington Monument, all of them dressed in jogging pants and t-shirts, and Bucky has to admit, he's kind of excited. He hasn't gone for a run in - well, years.

He brought his jacket along, but he's already taken it off. It's too warm, and plus, he doesn't want anything holding him back when he's running. His hair is blowing in his face, too, so he reaches up and ties it back, and Sam laughs.

"Oooh, Bucky's tying his hair back. Shit just got serious." He winks, cracking his neck. "Let's do this. You ready, Rogers?"

"I'm more than ready." Steve isn't even bothering to get into a starting position, he's just standing there comfortably, and Sam rolls his eyes.

"Oh look at you. Whatever, man. Where we running to?"

"How about just down to the end of the water? That's a pretty long run, for you," Steve suggests, smirking, and Sam punches him lightly in the arm.

"You're not as nice as everybody says you are, you know that? Okay. Let's go for it."

"Just down to there?" Bucky asks, pointing to the end of the rectangular pond, and Steve nods.

Sam suddenly starts running without warning, and Steve takes off after him, Bucky instinctively following.

In only two seconds, they've both overtaken Sam, who shouts something on the way by that Bucky doesn't hear. He and Steve are going too fast, and he's amazed to find he's completely keeping up with Steve, step for step, and it isn't even taking any effort whatsoever.

They reach the end of the water in what seems like only moments, and Bucky stops, looking back. Sam is still running, only about halfway along.

He looks over at Steve, unable to hide a grin. "You weren't holding back for my sake, were you?"

Steve laughs. "Are you serious? Buck, you're fast." He throws a casual arm around Bucky's shoulders, pulls him into a half-hug, then raises his voice just a little bit. "Nice to have some competition for once."

"I heard that!" Sam shouts, finally reaching them. He's breathing hard, and leans over to brace his hands on his knees. "You guys are jerks."

"Nope, you're just slow." Steve holds out his hand for Bucky to give him a high-five, and Sam sighs dramatically.

"Great. Now you guys are a team."

"Always have been," Steve replies, smiling, and pats Bucky's back. "Hey, race you back."

"You're gonna lose this time, punk," Bucky grins. He can't remember the last time he felt this free and happy – he feels even better than he did when they climbed the mountain, and that's saying a lot.

Steve looks shocked for all of one second before he laughs out loud. "You're a jerk. We'll see about that."

Bucky grins. "No, you'll see, I'll be winning." And he takes off, laughing over his shoulder as Steve leaps into motion behind him.

x

So StardustOwl's idea was for all of them to race each other in the park, and Ohgress's idea was for Bucky to go to one of Sam's veteran meetings. Great ideas, right? :D I hope you guys liked how they ended up!

I really don't think this will be my last time writing about Bucky and Steve, but if I do write any more stories they will be posted separately to this one (unless they are a chronological next step in this storyline).

Again, all the thanks in the world to everyone for reading and reviewing!

Please leave me reviews on your way out and let me know what you thought of this chapter as well! :) THANK YOU!

~sergeantmicky