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Chapter Text

Bucky followed the HYDRA agents into the abandoned base. Clint was stationed back at the quinjet and Steve on the other side of the base to scope it out. Bucky was pretty sure he didn’t need to regroup with Steve to take these agents out, so he continued into the base, following as silently as a ghost. He crept behind a giant piece of machinery that whirred and buzzed rhythmically.

The agents didn’t seem alarmed. They walked into a small room on the other side of a glass wall and just started casually talking.

Bucky groaned. There was no way he could sneak up on them now. Giving up, he strode out into the middle of the room, pulling his guns and getting ready to fire.

One of the agents started shouting, holding up his hands and waving frantically. Bucky paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. The other agent threw himself onto something in the room and the large machines around the room started to buzz louder, crying out like a symphony of bees. It was so loud Bucky found himself dropping his guns and pressing his hands up to his ears.

The room was engulfed in white light, the buzzing and whirring like a shriek now– a woman screaming bloody murder as if she was brutally ripped open. Something tragic and morbidly sorrowful: that was the only thing Bucky could compare the deafening shrieking in his ears to now. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. The light was so bright, like staring at the sun. Tears flooded against his eyes and he felt like he was spinning. He stumbled, unable to find his balance and then–

The buzzing was gone, the light dimming until it was no more. The room was empty of HYDRA agents. The room was larger with no glass wall for any HYDRA agents to hide behind. Bucky grabbed his guns, running to press himself against the back of the wall. He looked at the exits, noticing there was a blinking green light above both of them. His mouth hung open as he peered around the room, his brow crinkled. It was cleaner. The machinery softly whirring with computer interfacing on a few of them. The tiles were polished and nothing was dusty.

“The fuck?” he whispered under his breath. He walked around the room, reaching out and touching. It felt real. He felt alive . He’d been too close to death before; he knew this wasn’t death. He was alive but somewhere else. Maybe the light acted as some kind of teleportation? Maybe he was in a functioning part of the base now.

“Clint, Steve– this is Bucky. Where the fuck are you two?” he spoke into his coms. All he got back was crackling fizz. Worry pressed into his heart, caressing it like a gentle feather. He wouldn’t panic. Not here, not now. They were in enemy territory and someone was seriously messing with his head.

“Steve!” he growled into the coms again. “I swear to God if you don’t come in soon I’m gonna snap your cap!” Still nothing but empty crackling.

Bucky took off, running from the large building to a higher vantage point. He climbed up a smaller outpost and turned around, looking at the base. It looked more like a hangar now. Bucky could’ve sworn it was just a large warehouse type place before. They were in Belarus but the forest wasn’t as thick as he remembered. The earth not as green.

“What. The. Fuck?”

“Hey!” someone shouted.

Bucky didn’t turn back. He started running with the full intent to jump from the building to put some distance between him and the shouter. He jumped, bracing himself for the roll as he landed and took off running.

Instead of more shouting, there was gunfire. Bucky started to run in a zigzag formation, moving a little close to one of the buildings. He yelped as someone grabbed him and forcefully slammed him up against the wall.

“St-Steve?!” he asked, his breath knocked out from him. Relief flooded into his features, melting away the worry at his brow at a familiar face. Though, the longer he looked at this man, the more he realized something wasn’t right.

Steve was staring at him like he hadn’t seen him in decades– like he did the first time they met again. But it wasn’t Steve, or at least not how Bucky remembered him as they got off the quinjet. Steve’s hair wasn’t so dark and he never wore a closely-trimmed beard like this guy.

“James?” Not-Steve gulped loudly, his hand trembling on Bucky’s leather jacket. “You’re–”

Bucky tensed, looking down at the hand on his jacket. He was about to put this guy into a headlock when someone came within an inch of shooting Not-Steve’s ear off. They broke off in a run together, Not-Steve holding onto Bucky’s hand as they ran. Bucky followed clumsily, momentarily surprised that this man was tugging him along.

Bucky yanked free, moving much faster than this guy. He looked him over. He was in mostly greens, wearing military issued camo and he had the weaponry to back the uniform up. Bucky’s face was hard as stone as he slowed to run alongside this guy. He looked just like Steve, almost identical except the color of his hair. It was sandier in color, Bucky would almost call it brown if it didn’t glint gold in the sunlight.

“Follow my lead,” Not-Steve commanded.

“Why?” Bucky spat back.

“Do you wanna die?”

Bucky huffed, crouching behind a few crates. He watched Not-Steve load up an AK-47. He’d been out of the US military for a long time now but he was pretty sure that wasn’t a standard issue gun.

Not-Steve stood up, aiming his gun and then ducking as someone shot at them.

Bucky winced, pulling his rifle off his back.

“No,” Not-Steve ordered. “That’s too big. You’ll be seen.”

“And an AK-47 isn’t?” Bucky retorted. “Who the fuck are you?”

Not-Steve smiled, poking his head up and taking a shot at where the fire came from. He ducked again as more rounds came at them.

“There’s three of ‘em. One sniper, two on the ground. One’s at our three and the others somewhere around our eight.”

Bucky peeked his head around the crate, yelping when a bullet came right at his face.

“Jesus!” he exclaimed, slinking back and grabbing a pistol. “Fuck this.”

“That’s better,” Not-Steve said. “So, you, you’re not James are you?”

“I don’t go by James,” Bucky said. “How do you know my name?”

Not-Steve took a few shots, smiling as they both heard the shout of a wounded man.

“Just a lucky guess,” Not-Steve offered, shrugging. His smile wasn’t anything like the real Steve. The real Steve struggled to smile. His eyes were always full of so much pain. He’d seen too many things, was haunted by too many ghosts. A smile that easy didn’t come to a man as tortured as Steve Rogers. But this Steve, this Not-Steve. He smiled as if he had the whole world to laugh with.

“Where are we?” Bucky asked. “I was with my team. The Avengers. We were tracking HYDRA agents when–” Bucky cursed when Not-Steve completely ignored him and slunk away to another crate. “Christ, you fuckin’ kidding me?” He crept along with Not-Steve. They were at least fighting the same enemy.

“I’ve got the sniper. Once I jump out, I need you to run for the trees,” Not-Steve said.

“What? Why?”

“Because I’ll act as your damn cover. I’ve gotta get you outta here,” Not-Steve growled.

“You don’t even know me!” Bucky wailed. He winced when he saw a bullet pierce into the crate behind them.

Not-Steve offered that carefree smile again. He licked his red lips before checking his ammo. Everything about him was so casual. They were in the middle of a gunfight and this guy was just smiling and shrugging like nothing mattered. Bucky knew for a fact his Steve would be taking this extremely seriously. There’d be no smiles. He’d see his Captain with his furrowed brow and tight lips. He’d see the gulps of worry when they got pinned down. He knew the look in Steve’s eyes when Bucky needed to talk him down from making stupid sacrificial plans that’d save them all but get him killed.

Somehow that’s what pulled on Bucky’s heartstrings the most. This Not-Steve was doing the same damn thing as Bucky’s Steve would do. Making dumb sacrificial plans and Bucky wouldn’t let his Steve and he certainly wouldn’t let this Steve either.

“Listen pal, I ain’t got time to watch you play hero. We both rush that sniper and we both get outta this,” Bucky countered, trying to sport the same face he always gave his Steve when there was no room for argument.

Not-Steve laughed. It was light, like birds in the spring. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he heard such a carefree laugh out of his Steve. He heard them, sure. But this was different. This man was laughing with a sparkle in his eyes and his shoulders were light. It was like he floated on a cloud. Bucky’s Steve always looked like he was crumbling beneath the weight of the world. It was magical to hear that laugh, even if Bucky knew it wasn’t his Steve’s laugh. Still brought the memories back.

“We move on three,” Not-Steve directed.

Bucky nodded, gripping his pistol a little tighter.

“One...two...three!”

Together they jumped out, Bucky aiming his gun in the direction Not-Steve was aiming. They rained fire up atop the hangar and when no returning fire came, Bucky took that as a good sign.

“Let’s go,” Not-Steve said, grabbing Bucky’s hand again.

Bucky didn’t shake him free this time.

They made it to the tree line together, Bucky deciding following this guy was better than staying back at the base. Besides, this man had Steve’s face. Bucky couldn’t help that he automatically trusted a face like that.

He fell behind Not-Steve, careful to avoid vines or roots that threatened to ensnare him. They came up on a small jet and Bucky almost sighed in relief when he thought it was the quinjet– but it wasn’t. It was bulkier, with a louder engine. It was green, like the forest they were in and the insignia on the side wasn’t the large A for the Avengers but BLADE. Bucky had never heard of BLADE before. He looked back at the direction of the base, his heart sinking in his chest.

His Steve, his Clint, his quinjet. It was all gone and it didn’t make sense. Everything didn’t make sense after that light and the sound. Bucky’s eyes widened. The light and the sound! It must’ve altered reality or done something!

“You comin’?” Not-Steve asked as he lingered out the back of the jet.

Bucky looked back at the HYDRA base, clenching his jaw. That was the last place he had seen his Steve. But his Steve wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t know what was still there anymore except for the goons who’d been shooting at them. This guy was offering him some kind of safety and right now, Bucky just needed some answers.

Bucky walked onto the jet, breathing heavily from the exertion and dodging bullets.

“Hate to say it, but you ain’t in Kansas anymore,” Not-Steve said. There was a hopeful smile on his lips, it was shy– like the smiles Steve used to give Bucky when he was just a tiny little thing. It made Bucky’s heart tingle happily. He missed that smile. Steve didn’t smile so much anymore, or at least his Steve didn’t smile so much anymore. This one though, well he smiled the first second he really looked at Bucky.

They were up in the air before Bucky had a chance to talk to Not-Steve. He wasn’t really sure what to think of the guy, but he looked like Steve– except he wasn’t Steve , but the way he bossed everyone around was oddly comforting. Steve could get bossy sometimes. Everyone called this guy Captain, so Bucky assumed that was his rank. Their spines snapped straight up when he walked by them and they balled their hands up into fists before making an X with their arms over their chests. Bucky wasn’t too sure what country saluted like that, but their accents were American, which made Bucky wonder if they weren’t just some splinter cell of the American military.

Not-Steve jerked his head in the direction of the hangar and together they moved up an extremely narrow, spiraling staircase. They were stuffed up into a cramped Officer’s Cabin. It had a bed with one standard-military issue pillow and a thick blanket. There was a desk and a chair and a single light. The window looked out to the clouds but Not-Steve hit a button and the window went black.

“You must have a lot of questions,” Not-Steve said. He sat at the desk, his legs spread lackadaisically, one wrist just dangling over a knee. Bucky’s Steve never sat like that. He was never that free with himself.

Bucky looked around the small cabin. He wasn’t even able to stand to his full height but the other guy took the only chair which left– the bed. Bucky moved over to it, watching Not-Steve’s eyes get shinier. Bucky wasn’t sure if the guy was tearing up or he just had crystal bright eyes. It wasn’t until Not-Steve swallowed roughly, holding back a sob that Bucky knew he was trying to keep himself from losing it.

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. When they first met, this guy called him James . Which was Bucky’s name, but he never went by it. The only people who called him James were Natasha and his ma, but she’d been dead for years . But this guy seemed to know him. He seemed to know a James . And that was worth investigating.

“Where am I?” Bucky asked.

Not-Steve closed his eyes slowly, like he had his own question and it was brutally answered by Bucky’s confusion. He leaned forward, wiping at his eyes and Bucky knew for a fact this guy was crying.

“We’re outside Mlyn–”

“I know that,” Bucky cut in. His breathing sped up and his metal fingers were whirring with anxious signals from his brain. “Where am I? Where’s my team? Where’s our quinjet?”

“You’re from over there, ain’t ya?”

Bucky winced.

“Tell me what happened before I found you,” Not-Steve requested.

“I was tracking down HYDRA with– with someone who looks just like you. His name’s Steve and–”

“My name is also Steve. Steven Rogers.”

Bucky faltered, blinking a few times as if trying to wake up from whatever was happening.

“You came through one of the portals,” Not-Steve– no, Steve. Steven? This guy was Steve. A different Steve but a Steve all the same. Bucky would respect that. “I’ve heard about it before. Never saw it myself but, we’re familiar with it.”

“Portal? Christ , fuck no. Those HYDRA guys! They turned on those machines in that bunker and it got bright n’ loud n’ shit. I can’t– This isn’t–” Bucky felt light-headed. The room felt like it was getting smaller. He was aware of the hum of the engines and how high they were in the air. He was spinning, panting heavily as he tried to ground himself again. Portals? Portals?!

Steve just watched him, his eyes going misty again. “Your name’s James, right?”

“Bucky. I go by Bucky.”

“But it’s James Barnes?”

Bucky nodded.

Steve sniffed, looking away. He let out a shuddered sigh before leaning on his knees and staring down at the floor.

“Do you know how to get me back?”

“We can try,” Steve offered, looking back up. His cheeks were red, like the rims of his eyes.

Bucky didn’t want to call him out, but Steve was either suffering some kind of allergy attack or he was silently crying over something. Bucky shuffled his feet against the floor, licking at the back of his teeth. He shouldn’t pry. This wasn’t his Steve. This wasn’t his world. Similar, but not his.

“Few years back we had a big problem with other-worlders coming through. They had all these ideas and visions of what our world should be like. It led to a huge war and a lot of people died. Our society’s still not recovered.”

“Oh,” Bucky stated intelligently. He swallowed, unsure of how to proceed from there. “So I’m a threat?” Logical enough.

“What?” Steve looked up at him, his blue eyes round and wild. He was like a stallion out at the base of the Rocky Mountains, all powerful and fearless but also reverent. He looked at Bucky like he held the secrets of the universe. “God no!” He went to stand but immediately corrected himself.

Bucky just sat there, looking at anything but the man before him. Steve was trying so hard not to cry and Bucky felt entirely too invasive for this guy’s sake. They were too close in this fishbowl of a room. Every little sniffle or shift in Steve and Bucky’s gaze immediately drew back to him.

“So, is this Earth?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s not my Earth?”

“No.”

“And my Steve?”

Steve winced, the muscle in his jaw going tight. “He’s in your dimension. Safe and sound, well, hopefully.”

Bucky refused to believe his Steve was anything but safe and sound. He had the Avengers to protect him. He had his shield and all the superhuman strength he needed. Of course he was safe and sound.

“Did I actually transport over or am I lying on a floor like I’m dead?”

“You’re entirely physically present here. He has no idea where you are.”

Bucky nodded chewing the inside of his cheek. The jet caught some turbulence and Bucky’s attention went from Steve’s face to the small necklace that dropped to the floor.

Steve moved like a tiger to grab it. He cradled it to his chest before slipping it into a pocket.

Bucky didn’t ask, and Steve clearly wouldn’t tell.

The jet leveled out again and they fell back into an awkward silence.

“But you’re Steve,” Bucky mused, licking his lips slowly. “You’re Steve Rogers.”

Steve nodded, his eyes hopeful but still full of tears he was trying so hard to hold back.

“I guess I can trust you then,” Bucky surmised, trying to smile but it didn’t go that far. Just like his Steve, he found it hard to smile these days.

Steve laughed. He sat back, relaxing into the chair. “You hungry or anything? We don’t got a big mess hall or anythin’ but we’ve got some grub.”

Bucky smirked, remembering the days when his Steve talked with such a thick Brooklyn accent. “You from Brooklyn?”

“Of course,” Steve replied. He was wearing that smile still, that smile that made Bucky feel a tingling warmth inside his chest. He wanted to get closer to Steve, to feel this tingling spread out further against his skin. He wondered if it would.

“Where’s your Bucky from?”

Steve’s eyes got wet again. Bucky’s mouth dropped open, a silent understanding on why this Steve was crying in front of him. It was like all the air got sucked out of the room. Every nerve in Bucky’s body froze, going into panic-mode. He sucked in a breath, trying to recalibrate his brain to say something– anything.

“Oh my God. I– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He almost stood to touch this other man, except he realized he was wearing the face of this Steve’s most likely dead friend. He knew how torn his Steve was when that happened. From the looks of it, it was almost the same. Was there any Steve in any universe that got to keep their James or Bucky or whatever? Was there any stupid punk that got to live out a good and happy life?

Steve just shrugged, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “I lost James two years ago. We’d been together for twelve years.” He looked down, twisting the gold band around his left finger.

Bucky nodded before snapping his gaze back up to Steve’s face. His metal arm whirred again, echoing the frantic rhythm of his heart. “Wait, together ?” The wedding band, the tears, the way this Steve looked at him. It just wasn’t the way Bucky’s Steve looked at him. There was pain there and a sense of loyalty and of course love, but it wasn’t the kind of love where they fell into each other’s arms at night. It’d never been that way no matter how many times Bucky had thought about it. But this Steve with his James. They’d been that.

Steve quirked a brow, eyeing Bucky quizzically for a moment.

“Captain,” Steve’s coms crackled into the air. “We’ve got a situation down here.”

Steve stood up, tucking a gun into the holster. He turned to Bucky, licking his lips. “I’ll be back. Stay here, okay?”

“Where else am I gonna go?” Bucky snapped back. He wasn’t unkind in his tone, more so just defeated. He felt so far away from home and yet this Steve was so familiar to him. He knew those eyes, the little freckles that speckled atop those cheeks. He knew the porcelain tone to his face and how he blushed so easily. He knew his Steve. But this wasn’t his Steve. It was some other Bucky’s Steve. A Bucky that wasn’t around to appreciate him anymore. He couldn’t hold back the jealousy that burst through his heart, dumping enraged heat into his veins. This Steve and his James got to be what Bucky never would be to his Steve. Saying it hurt just didn’t cut it. Bucky had loved Steve since they were children. He’d resigned himself to the simple fact it would never happen. But here, he saw a man who lost his lover– his James. Bucky couldn’t help but be jealous.

He waited patiently as Steve left to do whatever it was he had to. He wanted to poke around the small cabin but that wasn’t fair. This guy gave him no reason for concern. Besides, this was a Steve Rogers . If there was anyone to trust, it was a Steve– in any dimension.

Bucky scratched at his jawline, staring at his metal palm. “I hope you’re okay, big guy,” he whispered into the air. He lost track of time, dwelling on the information he’d received. This was Earth, but it wasn’t his Earth. This wasn’t his Steve but it was a Steve. The more Bucky accepted his fate, the more curious he got about this world.

What was BLADE? Did HYDRA exist here? Where were the Avengers? Did this Steve have his enhanced strength and endurance? As much as Bucky pretended he didn’t care, he was a little curious about where Tony Stark’s counterpart was in this world. Did he even have one? Was it a guarantee that everyone had one? Which world was the real one? Was there even such a concept as real ?

Bucky jumped abruptly from his thoughts when he heard the echo of a gunshot. He stood, tense as a strung bow but relaxed slightly when he saw Steve climbing back into the cabin.

Steve closed the hatch door and turned to Bucky, a simple smile on his bearded face. Bucky liked the beard, honestly. It suited Steve. He’d have to tell his Steve that one day.

“Sorry,” Steve said, moving over to the bed to sit instead of the chair.

Bucky scooted away, watching skeptically. Steve had sat down so close. Almost like they were lovers.

‘Oh. Oh!’

Panic surged into Bucky’s heart. He felt like he’d just been electrocuted. He stood up, banging his head on the ceiling and yelping.

Of course the idea wasn’t met with disdain. The idea that Bucky could have a Steve was thrilling. It made his fingers and toes tingle and a flourish of butterflies entered his stomach. He wasn’t offput by the idea at all. It was the simple issue that he didn’t want to spit on James’ life with Steve. They’d spent twelve years together, and that wasn’t something anyone could just throw away. Bucky didn’t want to stomp all over that love. It wasn’t about loyalty of brothers; it was simple self-respect.

“Hey, hey!” Steve cooed, standing up and putting his big hands on Bucky’s shoulders. Hands that Bucky knew, but didn’t. These were Steve’s hands but they weren’t on his Steve! “It’s okay! It’s okay, Buck. It’s okay.”

Bucky melted at the name. Hearing Steve’s voice was enough to help him pretend. He closed his eyes, just listening to Steve’s voice. It was his Steve’s voice. He could see him now, all blond and clean cut with that permanent scowl on his face. God, Bucky loved that scowl. He yearned to see his Steve, to tell him his feelings and face the consequences. How did this Steve, not Bucky’s Steve but still a Steve, how did he bring out such vivid emotions in Bucky?

“You were with him for twelve years?” Bucky finally asked, his voice scratchy and uneven. “With him? Like with him?” He had to be sure. He saw the wedding band. He saw the tears but he had to be sure.

Steve laughed, almost like what Bucky was asking was obscene. But it couldn’t be obscene. Inverts weren’t okay back when Steve and Bucky grew up and even now they weren’t commonplace. America just legalized gay marriage but there were plenty of countries that still considered it a crime. The mere fact that this Steve seemed so open about it gave Bucky such surprise. He thought he’d misunderstood the entire situation if not for that wedding band.

“Yeah, we were married.” Steve’s voice was hoarse as he was unable to keep his emotions in check any longer. “Fuck me.” He let the tears fall now but he wiped at them before they reached his beard. “It’s like looking at a ghost.”

“Oh.” Bucky sucked in his cheeks. He didn’t know what to do or say. What could he? This man was suffering because his lover was dead and now Bucky had appeared quite literally out of nowhere and forced this Steve to look at him. Living, breathing and walking around as if this Steve’s lover hadn’t gone anywhere but he had.

I’m sorry.” It was empty. Sorry didn’t bring people back from the dead. Sorry didn’t hold back the tears that cascaded from Steve’s eyes.

“Can I…” Steve sucked in his lips, his eyes glossy with tears. “Can I hug you?”

The sentence punched him in the gut. He was so taken by surprise, that Steve must’ve taken his silence as consent. Steve threw his arms around Bucky, holding him so close that Bucky could feel the other man’s heart beating through his clothing. He cupped Bucky’s head, crying into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Steve sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky gingerly hugged this Steve back. This may not have been his Steve but he was a Steve . And Bucky couldn’t let any Steve in any universe suffer. So he squeezed him back, running his fingers through Steve’s short hairs. Why was the universe so cruel that every Steve Rogers had to suffer so deeply?

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered. “You loved him.”

“God, I did. We were– It wasn’t supposed to end that way.” He dropped his face into Bucky’s neck, his beard tickling against Bucky’s exposed skin.

Bucky didn’t stop holding him. Over and over in his head he kept repeating, ‘This is Steve, this is Steve, this is Steve…’ It didn’t matter which Steve. It was Steve. Bucky understood this man better than he understood himself. This was the guy that Bucky would follow to the end of the line. He’d follow this man into Hell and back. Fuck, he’d done it before. He’d almost died for it.

If his Steve wanted this kind of relationship, he’d have taken it. He’d have taken it in a second. He’d hold his Steve so close at night. He would’ve sang him stupid love songs and teased him about being so enthusiastic to get his face kicked in. If his Steve– that little guy from Brooklyn, if his Steve had wanted this… Maybe things would’ve been different after Bucky had come back from HYDRA.

His Steve blamed himself for Bucky’s misfortunes and Bucky blamed himself. They tiptoed around each other’s misery without ever dealing with it. They stewed in their pain, unable to really talk about it because the guilt was just too much. Any time they tried, their voices rose and they fought. Each one desperate to out-guilt the other, or take all the blame.

“I’m sorry you lost him,” Bucky offered, cupping Steve’s head. “I know for a fact you meant everything to him.”

Steve sobbed, clutching onto Bucky’s jacket. He stepped closer, pressing his thighs against Bucky’s.

Bucky tensed up, not used to being so close to another man. But this was Steve. It wasn’t his Steve but it was Steve . It killed him to see this. It pierced into his heart to hear those wrecked sobs from a voice that sounded so familiar– like home.

He gripped Steve harder, feeling tears warm his eyes. If he was going to be here for now, he’d make the best of it. He’d take care of this Steve, just as he took care of his other one. He’d give this man everything he could if it’d help alleviate his pain– if only for now.

They arrived at an underwater base not far off from the Russian coast in the Barents Sea. Bucky was completely entranced by its size. There were elevators, escalators, those fancy magic carpet walking things that airports had (he forgot what they were called, he’s from a different century, fight him). There were even some submarine docks and the deckhands had to explain to him why the water wasn’t filling into the room from the openings at the bottom (“Oh like that show Lost !” “What show?”)

He’d forgotten that when he was a kid, he used to turn buckets upside down in the bath and shove air into them so the water wouldn’t rush in. He used to love wiggling his fingers where air met water. He was glad for the memory, but still angry that he probably would’ve never gotten it back had this not happened to him. What other memories did HYDRA take away that he still didn’t remember?

BLADE’s insignia was a sword with wings spread from its hilt. It was stamped all over the place, on the subs, on the walls, on the patches that the soldiers wore. Even Steve had the insignia on the shoulder of his shirt.

Steve was a lot more composed now than he was earlier. His eyes were dry and his face completely stoic. This face reminded Bucky of the Steve he left back home. That cute little crease was between his brows and his lips were pressed tightly together. Lips Bucky longed to kiss but he’d never thought he’d get the chance.

They walked in front of a group of soldiers. Bucky watched the men shift and avert their gazes from Steve. One clutched his gun a little tighter.

Bucky furrowed his brow, chewing lightly on his bottom lip.

“Private,” Steve growled. “Release your gun.”

The soldier let go, stepping back. His face went sheet white. Bucky tilted his head to the side, unsure of what was going on. The man looked like he was about to shit himself, or break down and cry. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised by either. How could Steve, a man so free with his emotions, who’d just cried into Bucky over a lost lover inspire such fear in his troops? How could Steve ever command with fear? He was a walking poster for inspiration and camaraderie.

Then Bucky had to remember, this Steve wasn’t the exact Steve that he’d known back home. They were different– similar, but still different. Bucky wondered what kind of leader this Steve was. He was stoic around his underlings but that wasn’t unique. The Steve Bucky knew was pretty similar. He only flashed those beaten down smiles on rare occasions. There was a glint in the Steve here’s eye. Bucky couldn’t decide between amusement or an unspoken challenge. But what challenge could he bring to a simple private? Drop and give ‘im twenty? Bucky saw that kind of treatment back in the day and he was pretty sure no one had ever looked scared out of their damn minds at the sight of their drill sergeants.

“Captain,” a man’s authoritative voice echoed.

Bucky looked up to see Nick Fury– with both eyes. He gasped a little. He’d never have recognized the man if he hadn’t looked over at Bucky with more disdain than a man who just stepped in dog shit.

“Fury,” Bucky stated.

“That’s General Fury. And how the–”

“General, if I may,” Steve cut in, stepping between Bucky and Fury. “We picked him up in Mlyn.”

“So they were still operational,” Fury concluded, nodding toward Bucky. “And because he looks like James, you’re letting him walk around without shackles?”

“Shackles?” Bucky exclaimed, crouching slightly into a defensive stance. He was prepared to bolt. He was pretty good at holding his breath. If push came to shove, he’d be diving out one of the sub docks and making his way up. He’d either die or make it. But he wasn’t going to be a prisoner of anyone’s war ever again.

“That’s not necessary, sir. Bucky has no idea about the other-worlders who came through.”

Bucky stepped forward saying, “I didn’t even know this shit could happen. I don’t even know who you really are or what the fuck BLADE is. I work for the Avengers. We’re– You’re part of us, Fury. Steve’s our leader. He’s Captain America and there’s Black Widow and–”

Fury started laughing. He tossed his head back, grabbing at his stomach.

Even Steve cocked a brow, a little smirk on his face.

“Captain America?” Fury barked out. “America doesn’t even exist anymore!”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Other-worlders, remember?” Steve offered. “America was th’war zone. It’s all gone now.”

“No,” Bucky whispered. He grabbed at his heart. The Empire State Building, street car hot dogs, baseball, the Rocky Mountains and the Grand Canyon. He’d never seen the Grand Canyon. He shook his head, stumbling back. He bumped into a soldier who violently pushed him to the floor.

“Hey!” Steve barked, moving into the soldier’s personal space. “What the fuck did you just do?”

Bucky was too busy trying to keep his stomach on the inside to really know what was going on above him. He was panting heavily, his mind whirling. His world was nothing like this. This world was barely standing and everything was just subtly wrong . Steve struck fear into these people’s hearts when Bucky’s Steve inspired bravery and courage– love. Fury was always distant but he wasn’t cruel. This man was malice incarnate and Bucky was beginning to understand why they were called BLADE and not SHIELD. They weren’t a protective force. They were aggressors.

Something wet splashed to the floor. Bucky looked over to see Steve with a bloody hand. Bucky was up and over to Steve in a second. He momentarily forgot this wasn’t the same Steve Rogers he knew from home. His devotion and over-protective nature kicked in and thoughts stilled in his head. He pulled open Steve’s hand, seeing the knife in his palm and no wound.

“W-what?”

“It’s okay,” Steve soothed, cupping Bucky’s face with his other hand. “I took care of ‘im for ya.”

Bucky whirled back around, watching the man who’d shoved him get carried off in a body bag. He stared, his eyes so round he was afraid they’d fall from his face. He tried to center himself. He tried to remember that this place was only temporary. He wouldn’t stay forever. This Steve would find a way to get him back home and he’d be reunited with America, hot dogs and Captain America. Bucky used to hate that name, but now he’d give anything to hear someone call out a cheer for Captain America and Iron Man.

“W-what does BLADE stand for?” Bucky rasped, staring at the blood Steve wiped onto a white towel a younger girl brought over. She waited patiently for Steve to drop the soiled thing back into her hands before she ran off.

“Border Logistics and Arms Defense Enforcement.”

“Where I come from, we have SHIELD. They were supposed to protect the world.”

“We don’t have a world to protect anymore, Bucky,” Steve said softly. “Ours fractured after the war.”

“There’s more out there than just people. Didn’t the aliens attack your New York?”

Steve looked to Fury like Bucky was sprouting a second head.

“Bucky,” Fury began. His tone droning– like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. “We haven’t had a New York since before World War II.”

“Since before…” Bucky felt his feet stumble. He felt something warm against his back but the world smeared to splashes of watercolors. He saw a flash of blond hair and a smooth jaw. He reached up, but Steve wasn’t looking at him. Bucky was struggling to gasp for air, his throat burning. Steve was with the Avengers and he was happy and smiling. He wasn’t looking at Bucky. He didn’t seem to care that every breath Bucky took felt like someone was pouring sand into his mouth.

“St-Steve. Steve!”

He didn’t look.

Bucky woke in a dark room with a light outside a large window. It was white and probably blinding but the ocean waters were so dark that it barely was able to light up the room with cool silvers and grays. Bucky felt the sheets pool around his waist, startling him as he noticed he was in a bed. He grabbed at his dog tags, using them to ground himself. He wasn’t home. He was somewhere else far, far away. This wasn’t his world. Bucky wouldn’t deny that he wasn’t the person he used to be. He was mangled and parts of him were literally missing but he wasn’t like these people. There was something savage about them. Perhaps it was their desperation to survive in a world torn asunder by war.

“Hey,” a gentle voice permeated into the room.

Bucky looked over at Steve. He was leaning against the glass that separated them from the ocean.

“Hey,” Bucky echoed.

“You okay? You passed out there for a bit.”

“It’s just– a lot to take in.”

Steve laughed, nodding. “That’s understandable. I’d probably be losin’ my mind if I was in your situation. You’re handling it better than I could.”

Bucky just swallowed thickly.

“Thirsty? I brought water. I didn’t know if you were hungry so I brought up some food too.”

Bucky looked over at the tray. Fish, potatoes and shrimp. He reached for the water, gulping it down till it was empty.

“He used to do that too. Drank so much water once he actually got sick,” Steve mused, looking out into the blackness of the ocean. “Always did everything with unparalleled enthusiasm.” He sniffed, wiping his eyes.

Bucky felt his heart crack. He slipped from the bed, shocked to see his clothes were folded up on the desk chair and he was in cotton pants that hung low on his hips. He wanted to ask who’d changed him but he was absolutely sure he knew the answer. This Steve was just as protective of Bucky as Bucky was protective of his Steve. Almost like the two were mirrored, but not the same.

Steve turned back around, nodding toward Bucky’s arm. His eyes were red-rimmed. Bucky felt ashamed for looking so much like James. His very presence brought back memories.

“Your arm. H-how?” Steve’s voice was hoarse.

“I fell from a train in 1944.”

“1944, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m technically around ninety something? I stopped counting. Steve likes to think we’re the same age as when we both died but– that’s not how it works.”

“You both died?” Steve asked, his brow pinched. He looked at Bucky with such strange devotion that it was almost unnerving. This Steve didn’t know his life and yet he was pouring love out of those eyes. Bucky couldn’t deny the small twinges of excitement pinching in his stomach but he couldn’t forget how different this Steve was. He needed to get a better feel on him. Besides, Bucky knew why Steve was looking at him that way. Steve loved James.

“So in my world, we’ve got this organization called HYDRA. They’re pretty shady. Back during World War II, Steve came to rescue me. He mounted a one-man mission on the off chance I wasn’t actually dead. Well, I wasn’t. We started running around with some guys, blowin’ shit up and fighting the good fight. That’s when I fell from a train and Steve thought I died.

“I didn’t though. HYDRA experimented on me and I got some kind of supersoldier serum. Steve got it too. He fought HYDRA, killed the Red Skull and then the ass tried to kill himself by plummeting into a fucking iced up ocean.”

Steve laughed, but he didn’t say anything else.

“He gets defrosted decades later when Captain America is firmly embedded into history books and all the while, I’m a brainwashed assassin working for HYDRA and have no idea I’ve got a best friend who’d literally walk through hell for me.”

Steve’s face softened. He looked over to the food before back up at Bucky. His eyes were misty again. Bucky took the moment to wonder how a man so apparently ruthless with his subordinates could be so open with emotions like this.

“Were you ever small? Like, skinny?” Bucky blurted.

Steve looked down at himself. He bit his lip, tugging at it till Bucky could see it go almost white.

“Yeah,” Steve finally admitted. “After America was destroyed, there was a lot of fallout. It’s a radioactive wasteland now and people were developing a lot of…abilities. I wasn’t one of them but they offered me a chance to get them. They wanted to channel what happened to America into a serum to create supersoldiers so if the other-worlders ever came back, we’d be ready for ‘em.”

“And that was you?”

“There’s a few of us,” Steve replied. “James was one of ‘em too. Same as you. And my James was 99 when he died.”

“Seriously?”

Steve chuckled, grabbing some shrimp and peeling the casings off. “World War II was important in your life and mine. I’m a little younger than James. We were kept in cryo a lot. Not everyone was able to handle the serum so for the sake of preservation, we became immortal– sort of.”

Bucky nodded.

“Fury abolished the cryo preservation though. Thought it was a little too stupid to keep his best weapons in a freezer, even if it did prolong our lives. I wasn’t anythin’ special before this. I was gonna get picked off sooner or later. That’s just the world we live in. Survival of the fittest. Weakness ain’t acceptable.”

Bucky winced, listening.

“So what happened? After you were a brainwashed assassin?” Steve asked. He leaned on the glass. Bucky could see the goosebumps appearing atop his skin from the ocean’s chill.

“Steve found me and saved me. It’s a reoccurring theme– him savin’ me.”

Steve smiled, looking down at his feet. “Yeah well, you’re worth savin’.”

“You don’t even know me,” Bucky countered gently. He reached for a piece of shrimp and dipped it into the cocktail sauce.

“Maybe.” Steve shrugged taking in a deep breath. “But you’re my late husband’s counterpart. I gotta know some part of you. Just like you know some part of me.”

“But my Steve never wanted to be like that with me,” Bucky argued. He didn’t know why he was protesting so hard. Steve was exactly right. Bucky had even admitted this.

“Did you?”

The words punched him in the mouth, leaving him dizzy and reeling. His heart shuddered as the words rose to the back of his throat. He wanted to spew out everything. He wanted to admit to loving Steve since they were children. He wanted to admit that of fucking course if Steve wanted that, he’d have been on board so fast.

“Maybe.” He sniffed, sitting back on the bed.

Steve moved over to the shrimp and peeled the shell of one of them before tossing it into his mouth. He chewed softly, letting the answer dangle in the air, like the tiny dust particles that caught the light from the sealight.

“I got picked up by BLADE– once the war was all over and done. Captain Schmidt was my superior after they stopped icing me and James. One day I just– took it,” explained Steve.

“Took what?” He was curious about this Steve’s history, just as he was sure this man was also curious about his. They knew each other, but they didn’t . It was exciting getting to explore this all over again, even if it wasn’t the right Steve. He was still a Steve, and Bucky had to just keep telling himself that.

“In order to rise through the ranks you have to show you’re better than those above you. Schmidt was idealistic. He had all these ideas about world peace and unification under one banner. We’re a fractured world and that ain’t happenin’. So I killed him.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. He leaned forward on the bed, unsure whether to gasp, shout or cry. Bucky remembered Schmidt from his world. It’d been so long that Bucky wasn’t even sure he remembered anything other than that hideous red face, but he knew the man was evil. But what Steve spoke of now? Peace and unification? That didn’t sound bad and that’s when the warning bells started to ting in the back of Bucky’s head.

“You’re pretty open, ya know, considering we just met.” Bucky attempted to change the subject.

“We didn’t just meet, Bucky. We’ve known versions of each other all our lives. ‘Sides, there’s nothin’ like thinking you’d lost your chance to talk to someone ever again to help loosen the lips.”   

Bucky thought back on his Steve. They didn’t talk like this. They weren’t so open about their lives and their secrets. After Bucky got back, Steve never talked about how it felt to be in the ice. He never talked about what it felt like to lose Bucky. He didn’t ask Bucky about HYDRA and Bucky didn’t tell. It was like they were stuck in place, always running around each other but never too each other.

“Fuck,” Steve breathed out.

Bucky just twitched his brow, waiting for Steve to talk.

“Your hairs longer– and you got that arm but… You’re just as pretty.”

Bucky was glad the room was dark. He felt heat rush into his cheeks and he moved to hide his face behind his hair. Warning bells or not, the compliment still knocked the breath out of him. It wasn’t that Steve was outright malicious, right? Aggressive maybe, but he wasn’t evil . In what world could a Steve Rogers be evil?

“M’sorry, that’s forward of me. It’s just, James was my everything. It’s hard to– let go.”

Bucky nodded again. This man wasn’t like his Steve. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands emotionally dirty. He smiled easily and the way he looked at Bucky…Christ, the emotion in those eyes tugged at Bucky’s soul. Steve looked at Bucky like it may be the last time, each time. And maybe to Steve, it could be. It was comforting to know that there was a Steve like this out there in the realm of existence. It was nice to know that Bucky’s place as HYDRA’s asset wasn’t so dissimilar. He’d done cruel things. It didn’t matter if it was against his will or not, he still had the memories to carry the scars.

This Steve had scars too. Scars that Bucky understood and found comfort in. This Steve knew what it felt like to be in cryo. That in itself was so powerful to Bucky. Cryo was like thousands of rocks pushing up against his skin, forcing the air from his lungs and when the darkness finally took him? There are no dreams in cryo. Just utter silence and dark. It’s not something Bucky would wish upon anyone.

Bucky scooted over in the bed, pulling the blanket down for Steve. So this Steve had killed Schmidt for peace and unification. That could’ve been the HYDRA peace that Pierce wanted. There was no way a Steve Rogers could ever be the bad guy.

“You tired?” Bucky asked, scooting a little closer to the wall.

Steve smiled from ear to ear. He tugged off his pants and his shirt– muscles just like Bucky remembered on his own Steve. He padded over to Bucky, his dog tags clacking around his neck as he got into the bed. He wasted no time in pulling Bucky into him.

Bucky didn’t pull away. He wasn’t even startled by the closeness. It felt nice, lying so close to Steve like this, their heads touching and fingers softly wrapping into each other.

Steve nuzzled against Bucky’s face, a happy sigh from his lips. He tossed a foot between Bucky’s legs and then stilled.

“You don’t think I’m bein’ too forward, do ya?” Steve asked. He wore the most adorable smile that Bucky almost forgot to answer.

“Maybe, but as you said– we’ve known different versions of each other all our lives.”

“Told my James I’d be with him to the end of the line,” he mused, biting at those soft lips.

“Told my Steve the same thing,” Bucky offered. He felt a lump rising in his throat. The urge to cry wasn’t something he felt often. Now, it was as if all the tears he hadn’t spilled since reclaiming himself threatened to fall all at once. He felt split open and like someone was tugging at his heartstrings in a desperate attempt to grab his soul.

“Like a mirror,” Steve whispered, sleep starting to claim him. He kept his fingers curled around Bucky’s.

“Mirrorverses,” Bucky suggested. “Is that what we are?”

“Mmm,” Steve hummed. Bucky wanted to reach out and touch each little eyelash, but his hand was warm in Steve’s as they held hands between their chests.

“You’ll help me go home, right? To my Steve?” Bucky knew it was the last thing he should’ve asked, but being this close to another Steve only made him yearn for the idiot he left back at home. If he ever saw that jawline again and got to look into those eyes that were too sad for a man who looked so young, he’d tell him how much he loved him. Really loved him.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve answered dreamily. “Tired.” He scooted closer to Bucky, their foreheads pressed together. He adjusted his one arm under the pillow and then his breathing evened out against Bucky’s nose.

Bucky stared out at the ocean, listening to the base moan and creak under the weight of the water. This Steve wasn’t like his Steve, but Bucky didn’t mind that. This Steve reminded him of himself. That had to count for something.

This Steve lived in a world torn apart by war. He’d been experimented on and turned into a weapon, just like Bucky. He had to do what he did to survive and Bucky appreciated that honesty. Back in his world, the Steve Rogers he knew always held people up to such high standards. He wasn’t afraid to tell people when he thought they were wrong. Bucky could recall a few back alley brawls over ideologies. That Steve inspired people to do the right thing and Bucky felt like he’d never be enough for his Steve because of all the shit he’d seen and done.

But the Steve here in his arms, the one sleeping so close to him, this Steve accepted the grays of morality and survival. Bucky was a survivor and so was this man.

He yearned to go home but he was here now. This Steve probably didn’t get to sleep so sound at night, and tonight, he got to fall asleep with his James again.

Bucky could live with that.

When Bucky woke, Steve was gone. The shrimp platter was replaced with a tray of fruit, a glass of milk and a bagel. Bucky smiled, reaching for the bagel and tearing into it. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a bagel. It had to be before the war. He didn’t care that it didn’t have cream cheese, butter or jam. It was a bagel and he’d delight in the flavor. After he was finished, he gulped down the milk and started to pace the room.

Fury considered him a threat. He was an “other-worlder”. It didn’t matter that Steve didn't see him as a threat; he was one to the rest of them. That didn’t bode well for Bucky. Steve was his only ticket to survival here, in a world where he knew no one and he was helplessly cornered in an underwater base. He’d have more of a chance if he was alone on land. He’d been too disoriented and curious about Steve, and now he wasn’t sure if he hadn’t just walked willingly into a cage.

He was looking out at the ocean; it was a little brighter than it’d been the night before. He could faintly see a coral reef not too far from his room and a dark shadow of something big swimming out there.

“Mornin’,” Steve lilted as he walked into the room. He was chewing on a fruit, a mango or some kind of tropical fruit Bucky wasn’t too familiar with.

“Morning,” Bucky responded, a little more quietly than he’d wished. He didn’t want Steve worrying about him. He smiled to himself, rolling his eyes. Didn’t want Steve worrying about him…

“Sleep okay?” Steve asked, sitting on the bed. He chewed with his mouth open. It was loud and mildly obnoxious, but Bucky didn’t mind. He liked how animated it all was. Everything this Steve did was so full of life.

“Yeah, actually. It was nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” Steve said, a little more seriously. “You’d let me know if I got too forward with you, right?”

Bucky watched Steve for a moment, looking over that soft beard and the steady rise and fall of his chest. “Yeah.”

Steve nodded, a full smile stretching out on his face.

“I’m– I haven’t been with anyone since before the war. Never thought I’d be again.” He looked back out into the ocean, pressing his fingers to the cold glass of the window.

“Think because what you did that you don’t deserve it?” Steve asked.

Bucky’s breath hitched. He turned back around, watching Steve polish off the fruit and tossing the seed into the waste can. Steve continued to be relaxed, his shoulders even and that steady rise and fall of his chest. He’d been in cryo. He’d been experimented on. He’d seen desperation and ruin come to his world and yet he was still so free. It shredded Bucky’s heart that his Steve could never be so relaxed. He’d suffered before the war with his health and self-doubt and then after the war he was plagued with regret and guilt. A guilt Bucky’s very presence would remind him of each and every day. Steve blamed himself for Bucky’s death. It was a subject they never spoke of, but one Bucky understood too intimately.

“That’s–”

“I know. I thought it too. After what happened with James I just, I couldn’t bring myself to find someone else. I didn’t think I deserved it.”

“I’ve done terrible things,” Bucky whispered, watching Steve move to stand next to him.

“We’ve all done terrible things.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “That doesn’t mean we’ve gotta be alone.”

Bucky pulled away, feeling far too vulnerable. If Steve kept going, Bucky would find himself cracked open and spewing out every dark secret he ever kept. He had a laundry list of them now. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to hear himself relay the memories to someone else. They’d be too real for Bucky to escape.

“You wanna see more of the base?” Steve asked. It was a surprise to Bucky, seeing how easy Steve read his discomfort.

“Sure,” Bucky said.

Steve motioned with his head toward the heavy door and together they left the safety of the room toward soldiers in formation and barking orders from commanding officers.

Steve showed Bucky the training rooms, the gym, the pool (Bucky found it funny there was a pool on an underwater base) and the submarine decks. Each person they passed looked at Bucky with alarmed eyes, all jittery and cautious.

Bucky found himself clinging to Steve, either by letting the man hold his hand or grabbing his arm when Steve started to get too far away from him. Bucky didn’t consider himself a clingy person. He didn’t consider himself someone who ever needed anyone else’s protection. He was a survivor. But the way Steve would always turn to him with that smile. It was enough to keep clinging.

“The subs are completely untraceable,” Steve explained as they walked along the line of submarines. “They’re built so a crew of twenty can man them. We like to keep ‘em a little smaller so they can go up rivers.”

Bucky touched one of the subs, feeling the gentle hum of its engines.

“We’re lettin’ this one out soon,” Steve explained. “She’s on a mission to the Greek Alliance, around what’s left of Germany soon.”

“What’s left of Germany?”

“Yeah,” Steve continued as he hopped over some large tubes that ran gasoline into the subs. “After the war, a few of the smaller countries banded together to make bigger ones. Germany was pretty much obliterated. Its borders were mostly enveloped by other countries but it’s still got a few German extremists hangin’ about. They’re nasty folk, if you ask me.”

Bucky’s face soured. He’d never heard his Steve outright badmouth anyone before. He’d heard his positions and disagreements, but never such an absolute opinion.

“We made sure Germany could never rise up and hurt anyone ever again,” Steve concluded, turning to Bucky as a puff of steam hissed from one of the pipes in the walls. “You wanna see the engine rooms? This place can launch off and travel if it needs to. It’s pretty swanky.”

“Swanky,” Bucky repeated for the sake of hearing that word again. It wasn’t a word he’d ever heard his Steve use, but its uniqueness still brought a tiny smile to his lips.

“Our engineer is pretty amazing. He built this whole place.” Together they continued walking away from the sub bay and into the tight halls of the bowels of the base. “We pay ‘im a disgusting amount of money to keep him from selling his shit to the enemy but he’s more or less good people. Real top-dog kind. His dad’s a bit of a pansy though. Thought the world could exist without a war or skirmish. Real idealist, but he don’t do much so we’re not afraid of ‘im.”

“Who is he?” Bucky asked as they started to climb down a ladder. He listened to the base hiss and grind. It was louder down here as they got closer to the engines.

“His name’s Tony Stark. His dad’s Howard. I’ve no damn clue how that man isn’t dead yet. He’s almost as old as me and I’ve been in cryo a few times.”

Bucky nodded, dropping from the ladder and looking around the engine. It wasn’t what he’d pictured, all gears and steam. It was like Dr. Frankenstein expanded his lab with electricity contained in huge cylinders, all blue and purple as it danced inside. The wires hummed loudly like bees and it was freezing. Wires upon wires trailed the room, going up into the walls and ceilings. There was a large tank of water that swirled faster than a twister in the middle of the room with huge tubes attached to it. Bucky assumed the base was powered mostly by water energy.

“Oh uh, before we get up there,” Steve whispered, getting so close that his hips were bumping Bucky’s.

Bucky hissed, feeling heat swell in his loins. Touching Steve was like playing with fire, intentional or not.

“Don’t ask Tony about his scar.”

Bucky cocked a brow.

“Trust me. You’ll be dead in two seconds if you do.”

“Can I ask you? I’m curious now,” Bucky teased, biting his lip.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, pressing his chest to Bucky’s. “James was a sassy little shit too.”

“I’m just curious!” Bucky didn’t pay a lick of attention to his arms coming up to wrap around the back of Steve’s neck.

They stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, bodies pressed up tight before Steve finally said, “James tried to kill ‘im.”

“What? Why?” He realized how close they were standing, as if standing out in the open like this was entirely okay. Bucky wasn’t dumb. He knew his world was slowly getting used to the idea of homosexuality, but this was too much too fast. He wasn’t even sure why he’d done it! It just felt– okay.

“Tony’s a weapons merchant. He sells his tech to the highest bidder. So far, we’ve been that bidder, but he makes no promises. He’s smart enough to kill those who oppose him and he’s rich enough that he can vanish if we upset him. James hated that about ‘im. So he tried to kill him before Tony started sellin’ to the Russian Powers.”

“He was tryin’ to protect you,” Bucky surmised.

“No,” Steve said, stepping back. “He was trying to protect himself. James was nothing if not selfish.”

“I’m not like that,” Bucky automatically defended.

“I know,” Steve said. “That’s what makes you two different. Aside from your hair and arm. You’re a lot bigger than my James too.”

“Hey!” Bucky laughed, poking Steve playfully. “They used to feed me through a tube!”

“Not fat! Just,” Steve stepped back, letting his gaze drink up Bucky in the most brazen way. “Built like a brick-shithouse.”

Bucky waggled his brows, feeling a warmth hum in his chest. “What can I say, I work out.”

“Mm,” Steve grunted before turning and going up another ladder. “C’mon.”

Bucky hardly saw the Tony Stark from his world. Truth be told, he didn’t really want to. As Steve carried guilt about Bucky, Bucky carried guilt about Tony’s parents. Looking at Tony reminded him of what he’d done and Tony didn’t take it in stride. He was angry and he wanted payback.

Howard Stark lay on a bed, hooked up to tubes and beeping machines. The Tony Stark of this world sat at a desk with several computers all hooked up together. He was typing away frantically before he turned around. He was shrouded in the shadows of the dark room. Bucky couldn’t make out his face.

“Rogers.”

“Stark.”

“I heard about your new toy,” Tony said. “He looks like him. That why you’re not throwing him into a holding cell?”

Bucky suppressed a snarl, but he did allow his fists to clench up.

“Just wanted to show ‘im around.”

“So he can steal our tech and bring his kind back to wipe us out?”

“He’s not like that,” Steve snapped.

Bucky swallowed, pressing himself to the door of the room. He looked out the window over the engine room. When he looked back, Tony was standing, his face in the light. Bucky gasped.

Most people had scars that were little lines trailing along the face, but not Tony. Half of Tony’s face was mangled like he’d been pushed into a boiling pot to melt. One side of his mouth had no lips and he barely could grow even eyebrows. He was hideous and nothing like the conceited Tony of Bucky’s world, all trimmed up with the best haircuts and goatees.

“He’s an other-worlder. He’s certainly that .”

“I didn’t know shit about this place!” Bucky cut in. “I’d be happy to get the fuck out but we’ve still gotta work on how to get me back. I don’t care about this world. Just care about gettin’ back to mine.”

Steve inhaled sharply. Bucky didn’t want to look over and see his face. He knew his words were rough, but Tony was riling him up with his unabashed hatred and Bucky wasn’t here to make enemies. He was here just to figure out a way to leave…

“You don’t know how to get back?” Tony asked, his tone gentler.

“Fuck no! Why else would I be here?”

Tony blinked, the good side of his face relaxing. “I thought–”

“Yeah well you thought wrong,” Steve growled. “He’s got a Steve at home.”

Bucky’s heart sunk against his chest. Steve’s words were true, but they held sadness and weighted defeat. His arms tingled, wanting to pull Steve into him. He hadn’t been here for a full twenty-four hours and he was already worrying about the Steve of this world. He wanted to comfort him, to remove that tone from his voice and see that smile light up that face like it usually did. He was almost terrified of the sullen way Steve looked right now, like the life was slowly being sucked from his soul.

“Well, this is engine control. That over there is my dying father. Ignore him. He shits himself a lot. Your name’s James?”

“Bucky,” Bucky corrected.

“I’m Tony.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky said. He looked around the room, licking his lips absentmindedly. “This base powered by water?”

“You bet,” Tony said, hopping from his chair. “We pull in ocean water, get it going like a whirlpool over there.” He pointed to the large apparatus in the middle of the room, spinning the water at breakneck speeds. “It creates an electric charge and outputs into the cylinders for harvest before distribution. We also have solar panels that we use on the surface of the water.”

“That’s amazing. So you don’t use arc technology?”

“Arc technology?” Tony asked, tilting his head.

“Oh, it’s– your other you swears by it. It’s a clean energy source.”

“I don’t care about clean energy. I care about powerful energy,” Tony responded, his eyes narrowing.

“Right,” Bucky backtracked. “Sorry.”

“Well, I just wanted to show ‘im ‘round,” Steve explained. “You need anything?”

“Nah, I’m meeting with Fury in a few hours to go over some new designs.”

“Take care,” Steve said, waving. He pulled Bucky by the fingers when they heard a clatter behind them.

Bucky whirled around to see Tony staring at Bucky’s arm, jaw-dropped and astonished.

“Your– I didn’t see before.”

Bucky looked to his arm before looking back at Tony. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Lemme see it,” Tony ordered, pulling Bucky by the collar down onto a stool. He manhandled Bucky’s arm, twisting it and asking him to open and close his fist.

Steve hovered like a fly, equally as curious as Tony. Bucky had to give him credit there. He’d been polite not to pry. That was a quality Bucky knew well. It brought a smile to his face.

Tony managed to open up the arm and look inside. He was taking notes and humming and aweing. Over and over he kept saying, “This is incredible.”

The ice in Tony’s persona melted away as he poked and prodded at Bucky’s arm. He was jittery, like a cat playing with a new toy.

“How long’ve you had this arm?”

“Long,” Bucky answered.

“Do all your amputees get ‘em?”

“No.”

“Why’d you?”

“I was an experiment.”

“Oh. Like Steve?”

Bucky blinked, looking up at Steve. It’d been voluntary, Bucky knew it’d been voluntary, but every time he was reminded Steve was an experiment , it always brought out the most indescribable feeling of complacency in Bucky. It was soothing, like mint over a wound, all cool and refreshing.

“Not quite,” Steve laughed. “Bucky got the cooler arm.”

“I’ll trade for a real one,” Bucky said. “I can’t feel anything with this one. It’s just pressure sensors really.”

“Yeah, I see the network,” Tony said with his face not even an inch from Bucky’s arm. “This wiring is fascinating. It’s so… well it’s like you’ve had several different arms and they just kept building up around the old ones. There’s redundant wires and offline wires. You’ve got a few tracking devices too.”

“Yeah,” Bucky spat out. “I’m aware.”

Tony looked over to Steve, his good eye going stern. “You sure no other-worlders came looking for this guy?”

“He’s the only one,” Steve answered. “Absolutely positive.”

Tony went back to the arm, making Bucky involuntarily flex his fingers.

“Stop,” Bucky whispered, watching his hand move against his will.

“I’m just testing your reflexes.”

“S-stop,” Bucky whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes. He wasn’t here anymore. He was with HYDRA, strapped to a table and listening to the high squeals of the instrument his scientist of the day was working with. The man would force Bucky’s hand open and closed. He didn’t care if Bucky had to pee. He didn’t care if Bucky was tired or hungry. Bucky pissed himself in that chair. His arm was split open and that scientist was making him form all kinds of hand positions and he pissed himself because of it.

“Stop it! It’s hurting him! Stop it!” someone shouted.

There was a scuffle, followed by the shrieks of a man’s hoarse voice. Bucky was shivering, coiling in on himself and staring in horror at his opened metal arm. He started scratching up at the shoulder. He had to get it off himself. If he got it off, the scientist wouldn’t keep testing his hand. He wouldn’t have to lay on that table for hours without food or water. They’d probably even let him go to the bathroom! Or die. Dying wouldn’t be that bad, as long as he didn’t have to lie there for hours and hours just opening and closing.

Opening and closing.

Opening and closing.

“Bucky!”

Opening and closing.

“Bucky! Bucky look at me!”

He gasped, feeling someone touching his face, soft lips at his jaw and his name being repeated over and over.

“St-Steve?” Bucky gasped. “But we’re– you’re not–”

Steve pulled back. When did he get a beard? Who’d dyed his hair?

“You spaced out pretty hard,” Steve explained. “Are you okay? I didn’t know what to do. I just– I just started kissin’ you, cause it used to help me when I–” He cut himself off, his jaw clenching.

Bucky started to breathe slower, memories trickling back into his mind like tiny droplets of morning dew along a window. He wasn’t home. This wasn’t the Steve he knew. He was in that mirrorverse and Tony had… Bucky’s eyes widened. “Tony!”

He looked around the room, seeing Tony by Howard’s bed as the man moaned and coughed. Tony was petting his father’s white hair, cooing softly into his ear. Howard’s eyes were wide as he stared up at the ceiling. He kept moaning, over and over and over.

Tony spoke in hushed tones, his lips pressed to his father’s ear. “Shh, it’s okay Dad. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, looking back to Steve’s worried eyes. He let out a shaky breath, nodding jerkily.

“You okay?” Steve asked again.

“When you what?” Bucky asked. “Who kissed you and when you what?”

Steve sat back on his haunches, licking his lips. He breathed in heavily through his nose, as they both listened to Howard’s moans.

“When I used to slip. The experiments weren’t easy. The things they did to me. To James.” He swallowed loudly, looking back at Bucky. “James would just kiss me. And it’d make it all go away.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered. “I’m sorry they hurt you.”

Steve smiled sadly, looking so much like the Steve Bucky left behind that it hurt .

“I’m sorry they hurt you .”

All the commotion set Howard off on a never-ending moaning fest. Tony tried his best to calm his father, shushing him softly and stroking his hair. Bucky watched, his gaze flicking back to his opened arm and then back to Tony. Steve was in the corner of the room, arms crossed and staring intently at Howard.

Howard was still moaning when Tony moved to finally close up Bucky’s arm. He was mumbling in a language Bucky couldn’t understand, grabbing at his IV tubes and trying to yank them out.

Steve moved forward saying, “You shouldn’t do that, Howard.”

Tony just kept closing up Bucky’s arm.

Bucky watched Tony with a heavy gaze. Howard was shrieking in protest at Steve but Tony didn’t bother to turn and offer any explanation. He just kept working on Bucky’s arm.

“Get away!” Howard snarled. “Get away, get away!”

“Okay,” Tony finally said turning around. “Steve, hold ‘im down. It’s medicine time.”

Steve did as requested, but the man started to violently convulse, doing his best to push Steve off of him.

“No! No you can’t do this! You can’t do this!”

“Bucky, right? Help us out. Don’t want dear ol’ dad throwing his back out.”

Bucky stood up, watching as Tony picked up a thick needle.

Howard moaned brokenly, his eyes wide and wild, staring right at that needle.

“It’s to help him sleep,” Tony said. “Now c’mon. It’s just to take the edge off. He’s in pain and has trouble sleeping.”

Bucky watched Howard, failing and groaning as Steve covered his mouth. Covering his mouth… Jesus. He looked back to Tony, staring at the constant sneer his face was in because of the scarring.

“It’s just to help him sleep, Bucky,” Tony said again.

Bucky moved forward, holding Howard by the shoulders as Steve kept his arms down. Tony pressed in the needle and Howard instantly began to nod off.

“You okay?” Steve asked, clapping Tony on the shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” Tony replied, shrugging Steve’s hand away and turning toward his father. “Just gonna watch him for a bit.”

That was their cue to leave. Steve ushered Bucky toward the ladder, his eyes darker and resigned. It was like seeing the elderly spooked Steve out.

Bucky’s hearing was enhanced by the serum. He heard the flat line once they climbed down the ladder back to the engine room. He’d helped kill Howard Stark, just like he’d killed him once before. It made him so sick that he pulled over at the front of the engine room and just spewed his guts out. The taste of shrimp and milk filled his senses until he was gagging all over again, more bile splashing to the floor.

“Oh Bucky,” Steve said, rubbing at Bucky’s back. “Let it out. It’s okay. Let it all out.”

Bucky gagged again, coughing as his gut wrenched in his stomach. He sobbed, falling into Steve’s arms. He was shaking. Tears pushed out his eyes as he gasped for air. His breath smelled of rotten fish and sickly sweet vomit. He hated it.

He’d killed Howard Stark once. The only solace he had was that it wasn’t technically his fault. He’d done it, but what choice did he have? He hadn’t known himself. He knew what HYDRA’d taught or forced into his mind. He wasn’t a monster. He was made a weapon. A gun didn’t choose to fire. A gun wasn’t inherently dangerous. The person who wielded it was. Bucky had been a gun.

But today. Today he’d held an already old and dying man down as he struggled. Howard had watched the needle go into his skin and he’d protested . He hadn’t wanted to die. Tony said it was for pain. He’d said it was just to help him sleep and take the pain away. It was to help him sleep.

It was to help him sleep.

Bucky had helped kill Howard Stark. Again.

“Fuck,” Bucky moaned, coughing up once more. His stomach had nothing left in it to spew, but it was still bunching up and churning violently. “I’m gonna die.”

Steve laughed, kissing the side of Bucky’s face. “You’ll pull through.”

“We just killed someone!”

Steve just blinked.

Bucky grabbed Steve’s olive shirt, tugging at the collar. “We just killed someone and you don’t even care? Tony lied! He just killed his dad!”

“I know,” Steve responded. “I knew that already.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because this is how life is, Bucky! You’re too weak to go on, and you die. That’s how this world is!” His nostrils flared, color rushing into his cheeks. He was so beautiful and yet that image was poisoned. It was poisoned because this was not Steve .

The Steve Rogers Bucky knew was kind. He was selfless and noble. He didn’t waver in his convictions but he was still soft. He saved civilians. He loved children. He valued life. Bucky was a fool to think that any Steve Rogers out there would be just like that.

This Steve smiled, but that’s because he’d become so desensitized to the cruelty around him. Only the strong survived, and Steve was nearing 100. He was the strong one here. He’d survived by climbing atop the bones of his victims and he never once made an apology for it. It was a shame, really. That a Steve had to see so much violence that he’d become warped to it. Bucky pitied him. Bucky knew the value of life. It was robbed from him. He’d robbed it from others. He knew its value.

“And if I’m weak, you’ll kill me?” Bucky asked, his voice rough from spilling his guts to the floor.

Steve whined, stroking his warm hand against Bucky’s cheek. “Never.”

“But you just helped a man kill his father. What if I was in that bed?”

Steve’s eyes widened. His lips were twitching and his muscles tightened. “I–”

Bucky sucked his lips in, watching Steve fight with philosophy, morality and personal desire. It was cruel of Bucky, to corner Steve like this. But he needed to know the depths of how far Steve was warped. He’d never admit it aloud, but he was searching for one thing– was this man redeemable? If he was, maybe Bucky could allow himself the comfort his arms provided.

Maybe things could be…more…between them.

“Bucky, you’re not from here. I wouldn’t– I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I understand that sometimes death is mercy. But what I don’t understand is why you lied to me. You didn’t give me the choice. I got–” Bucky cut off, sobbing. He clutched his chest, heaving.

Steve just cradled him, stroking his sweaty face adoringly. The hall smelled of vomit and sweat. Bucky didn’t want to be doing this out here, but he didn’t know when he’d ever get another chance. When he’d ever feel brave enough to talk about this again…

“They took my choice from me. They took my memories, they took my body. I swore to never let that happen to me again. But you just did it. You took that choice away from me.”

Steve’s eyes rounded. He looked down at Bucky’s lips and then back up to his eyes. “You’re right. I did. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Bucky swallowed, pulling back and standing up. He groaned, wiping at his face. “I need a shower and time alone. I’ve gotta think.”

“About what?”

“About this. About what happened.”

Steve nodded, and that was the end of their conversation.

Bucky wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Steve knew he’d been brainwashed and Bucky hadn’t really gone into any detail about how or what happened. For all Steve knew, he could’ve been hypnotized by a swinging watch. Bucky wasn’t sure if Steve understood the severity of his actions. Bucky wasn’t even sure he wouldn’t have just gone along with it anyway. Howard had been dying and he’d been suffering. It’d been mercy. But it hadn’t been achieved the right way. It’d been a compromise, murky and vile in its execution.

Steve called down a service worker to clean up the vomit as they walked with his walkie-talkie. Bucky didn’t much listen to the conversation. He replayed Howard’s expression. How he had shaken and groaned and fought.

Would Bucky have shown him mercy? Or would he have backed away and let him die by Steve and Tony’s hands? Would that make him just as much a monster? He was a monster. He could dress up or dress down his time with HYDRA all he wanted. What he was now? It was a monster. It was cold, distant and refined. He had no control of himself back then, but he did now. And what did he do with that control?

Pine away for a man who was too pure to ever really love him the way he wanted to be loved. Steve was too good. He was too uncompromising. Bucky was a tattered old shadow following those broad shoulders, that shock of blond hair. He wasn’t worth Steve– no matter how hard he tried.

Bucky looked over at this world’s Steve again, watching him scratch at his beard as he talked over the comms. He laughed, that smile spreading, white and happy. He’d just killed a man, and yet he was smiling at whatever joke the person on the other side of the conversation had told.

This Steve wasn’t pure. He was battered and scarred by a war that destroyed his world. He did what he had to do and he made no apologies. He walked a fine line between good and evil and Bucky was drawn to that. Was it because didn’t Bucky do the same?

Bucky reached out, grabbing Steve’s hand as they made their way over to the room they’d slept in together.

Steve turned, his brow furrowing as he watched Bucky.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered.

Steve pulled him in, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and kissing his forehead. “Don’t be.” His lips still pressed to Bucky’s head. “Don’t ever be sorry for who you are.”

Bucky closed his eyes, staring at his combat boots. He grunted, still afraid to look back up. Don’t be sorry for who he is? How could he not? Guilt ravaged him like a pestilence. He had a lifetime of sins to atone for, but Steve was telling him something different. To move on? To embrace it?

Bucky wanted to. God, he wanted to.

Steve opened the door, ushering Bucky inside.

Bucky looked out to the ocean once more. He dwelled on his thoughts, battling with acceptance and guilt. His eyes followed tiny bubbles that escaped from the base and trickled up the sides of the window. The large, blinding white light was in full force now. Bucky wondered how long they’d been traveling around the base for.

Someone knocked at the door and Steve answered. Bucky looked to see the boy, nondescript with a private’s bars on his sleeve. They didn’t wear collared shirts, just regular t-shirts, but their ranks were on the sleeves. Bucky thought it was probably more comfortable, but he liked the pride of wearing a uniform. Steve instilled that in him. Always said if they were going to fight a war, they had to wear a uniform.

Steve became agitated, huffing and clenching his fists. The private just grimaced and started to back away.

“M’sorry sir. We tried. We were outnumbered.”

“You failed,” Steve responded, pulling out a gun and shooting the boy right between the eyes.

Bucky yelped, slamming his back into the window to the ocean. It was cold and made him shiver but all he could focus on was the look in that boy’s eyes just a moment ago.

He’d known. He’d known what would happen, and he still came to Steve anyway.

“W-what the fuck?!” Bucky shrieked. “What the fuck? He was yours!”

“He failed.” Steve shrugged. “As I said Bucky, don’t ever be sorry for who you are.” He moved to put his gun on the desk before pointing to a door in the darkened corner. “Go wash up. We’ll eat dinner with everyone else tonight.”

Bucky peeled himself from the window, horrified that anyone wearing Steve Rogers’ face could be so cold. How could he smile so large and yet be so empty? Or was that it? He was void of emotion on the inside and that’s what made it so easy to smile? Bucky shook his head, feeling a wave of nausea hit him again. He moaned, stumbling over to the bed.

Steve followed, his eyes drowning in concern as he kneeled in front of Bucky.

Bucky swatted away Steve’s hand before it could reach him. “Don’t.”

Steve nodded, sitting back on his haunches.

“Failure’s weakness?”

“Absolutely.”

“But I failed.” Bucky looked up into Steve’s eyes, his mouth still tasting like stale vomit. He needed a shower. He needed to wash out his damn mouth. “I failed when I came here. I left my Steve behind.”

Steve winced.

“I left him behind.”

Steve reached up, grabbing Bucky’s hands. “Yeah but, didn’t he fail you too?”

“No,” Bucky said. “He did his duty. Served his country in a war that needed him.”

Steve laughed, but it wasn’t full of any form of happiness. It was bitter and resigned. He started tracing the lines in Bucky’s hands with his fingertips.

“I thought my James died once, during the war.” He looked up, his eyes searching for something in Bucky’s gaze. “You know what I did?”

Bucky shrugged, waiting.

“I went looking for him.”

Bucky hissed, remembering all the nights where Steve got so close to finally admitting how guilty he felt for Bucky’s fall and that he’d never gone to find him. He’d watched Bucky fall from a train, of course he’d thought him dead. It wasn’t Steve’s fault. But they’d never talk about it. So Steve dwelled and Bucky remained silent, tormented by the walls Steve put up and the ones he’d built himself.

“Maybe he wasn’t meant for you,” Steve continued. He moved to sit beside Bucky on the bed. He leaned over, placing a soft, slow kiss to Bucky’s shoulder. “Maybe I was.”

Bucky felt tears sting in his eyes. It’d make sense. The Steve that Bucky knew was a legend, a hero and everything Bucky could never be. Bucky was just the horror story parents told their children about at night.

“You can stay here,” Steve pleaded, kissing Bucky’s shoulder again. “I promise to love you. I’ll treat you better than he ever did.”

Bucky closed his eyes, feeling the tears slip silently along his cheeks.

Steve leaned his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. “You’ll never have to apologize for who you are.”

Bucky nodded, reaching up to stroke his fingers through Steve’s beard. It was as soft as unharvested grain. He leaned his head against Steve’s, still idly running his flesh fingers through that beard.

Steve had just murdered two people in less than an hour. He’d made no apologies, but it was a trait Bucky found admirable. He didn’t dress it up but he didn’t dress it down. He was who he was, and he’d forever be. There was an honesty there that the Steve back home didn’t get to have. He was brandished flawless and the epitome of power. He wasn’t allowed to show his weaknesses or that he suffered. And he did suffer. He was uncompromising in his loyalty to the world, to making it a better place but maybe to do that–

He had to get rid of Bucky Barnes. He had to get rid of the dark shadow that followed him everywhere.

Without Bucky, Steve wouldn’t have to worry anymore. He wouldn’t have to look into Bucky’s eyes and feel guilty about letting him fall. He wouldn’t have to tiptoe around delicate subjects like HYDRA or torture. He could just be .

“I’ll stay.” Bucky finally said, feeling his heart tear itself slowly in half. Part of it would forever remain with the little punk he grew up with. But maybe the other half could find a new life– a happiness in a world that accepted brutality and the grays of morality. A world that would accept him .

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky. The only sound he made was a stifled sob. He held Bucky so tightly that Bucky was shaking along with those silent sobs that wrecked Steve’s body.

Bucky leaned into Steve’s embrace, nuzzling against the other man. He inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent of this man’s skin.

Steve pulled back, cupping Bucky’s face. They looked at each other for a long moment, both looking at each other’s lips and then back to each other’s eyes. Steve moved in and Bucky was already closing his eyes, but the kiss never came.

Bucky opened his eyes again, watching Steve’s face.

“Go wash up,” Steve spoke. “I’ve gotta take care of that boy’s body.”

“What you gonna do with it?”

Steve moved to the door, pulling the large thing open. It whined loudly before clacking against the wall.

“Let the sharks have it.”