1964-04-05 - Third time is a charm
Summary: Bucky tracks down Steve. They talk for the first time in 20 years and no one throws a punch.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
bucky steve 


There've been recent reports in from SHIELD agents in the city - Carol, Sofia - that the Winter Soldier's back in New York…..but apparently stricken with amnesia and confusion. No readily evident purpose, no sabotage….but why's he being so open? So apparently clumsy? Did he escape in earnest?

So perhaps it isn't the surprise it might be when, on the way home, Steve's suddenly aware of someone keeping pace with him, as if he had every right to be there. It's Bucky…or a version of him, anyhow. Strangely young, like Steve himself, hair long enough to be tied back at his nape, dressed in a rather ragged military surplus coat, henley shirt, old jeans. One step up from a vagrant. He doesn't say anything, just settles into stride with Rogers as if this were a conversation they'd left paused to be picked up again.

*

Steve's head jerks in surprise as Bucky joins his side, but he quickly rolls with the punches. Proverbially, of course. "Bucky…" he says quietly. "I talked with Pepper." He's not sure if that will mean anything to James Buchanan Barnes, but it's the truth and it's the first thing that comes to mind. The second thing that comes to mind is that they've better get out of sight quick, just in case someone sees this guy. His blue eyes begin darting, looking for somewhere to hide out.

*

"Yeah?" His tone is only idly curious, distant. It's matched by his expression, which is impassive, betraying little beyond a kind of ground-in weariness. "She mentioned you. Steve," He's clearly trying the name on for size, matching it to the bigger man next to him. Buck's mostly eyes-forward, but there are little sidelong glances, the furrowed brow that means he's fighting with memory or its lack.

*

For a lot of steps Steve doesn't say anything after Bucky mentions his name. "Well," he replies, finally, "I suppose that's progress. This time you know my name. And you're not trying to kill anyone. Are you in trouble?" Beat. "I mean, more than usual?"

*

He doesn't smile, other than that little deepening of the lines around his eyes. "I saw your picture in the papers. Our picture, sometimes." To the question, he shrugs, and Steve's senses will catch the ophidian sound of metal plates rasping, just lightly. Tin Man's missing the oil can, it seems. "I dunno. Got shot at a couple times," he says, dismissively.

*

"Sounds about par for the course," Steve responds with a nod. "How much do you remember?" he asks, keeping the conversation casual before he gets to some of the hard questions.

*

He licks his lips, before answering. There's tension in the lines of his body, despite the relative relaxed pace. He doesn't fidget, though - keeping the kind of taut poise that might presage either fight or flight. "I don't. Pepper told me my old name, and ….that's what's in my records." Of course he's done research. Then his features pinch, and he says, haltingly, "I remember….we were in the Ardennes. It was night and we were in camp and there was a fire. You and me and some other guys. We were talking about…about what we were gonna do when the war was over." A glance takes in the Steve that's here, now. "….you never did just go back and become a public artist, did you?" He sounds almost disappointed, as if on Cap's behalf.

*

"Not really. Take the soldier out of the war, but not the war out of the soldier. Few months back I tried my hand at art but wasn't able to make any money at it. Still trying, though," Steve says with a bit of a grin. "Not going to stop trying." He sighs, "Not the art and not you, Buck. If you need my help, I will help you. Each time we do this, though, it gets harder. I'm sick of trying to kill each other."

*

His brows lift, quizzical. "How many times've I tried to kill you?" he asks, and the question's genuine. "I don't know, Steve. This doesn't make any sense. I don't remember anything. I look at the photos….and it's twenty years from then to now. I've got memories that don't make sense. Pepper said something about the Russians…."

*

Steve tries to think, "Two times at least. Two times too many." After thinking about his wording, he goes back to the Russians, "As far as we can tell…and I say we meaning the people who have looked at your case, we think you're either being controlled by HYDRA or the Russians. Most people think the latter, but we can't really be sure."

*

"I must be pretty bad at it, you're still here and not in a crypt at Arlington," he points out, utterly deapan. That might've been a joke. "What do you know about me now? Where'd the twenty years go, Steve?"

*

"Or I'm good at dodging your bullets," Steve says with a chuckle. "The truth is I don't really know. For those years I was stuck in the bottom of the Arctic, frozen in an iceberg. I'm just learning all of this as I go along, too."

*

Now there's a crack in that facade, and he almost rounds on Steve, breaking stride. "What?" he demands. Now, apparently, he's sure Cap is screwing with him.

*

"Honest truth," Steve says, looking over at Bucky for a moment. "I fell off a rocket in a fight with Zemo up north. I should be dead, but the serum kept me alive." He shakes his head, unable to believe it himself.

*

"That's when I died," he states. He's read that part of the reports. But it seems he hasn't gotten access to all of them. "But obviously, no one got the body." Then he admits, after a beat, "Well, the Americans didn't find me, anyhow. Was it HYDRA who had me when I was MIA in the war?"

*

"Yes," Steve says with a nod. "As far as what they did to you, I never did know." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets as they walk along. "Do you remember how you got here?"

*

He can't bring up the memory, not consciously. But he shudders, anyhow, as if at some remembered chill. "No," he says, simply. "Records say I showed up at the port of New York a few weeks ago. I don't remember that. The first thing I remember is….waking up in a room. In a hotel. Heart of the City motel….I think."

*

Steve nods; that's par for the course. "What do you want now? From life, I mean? If you want help, we can help. Pepper is worried that you're going to be on the wrong side of the judicial system. And the press. I have the same worry."

*

"I just want…." Bucky takes a deep, shivering breath. For the first time, some of that detachment's gone, and there's genuine fear there. "To be sure I never go back there again. I'd rather die. And from what I've seen, from what Pepper's said, you're both right to worry. I've killed a lot of people, and who's going to buy mind control as an excuse? I'm a traitor, a spy, and an assassin. You can't keep them from me, Steve, and you know it. I turn myself in, I'll be in front of a firing squad within months."

*

"Well, you'll get a trial. And my word still means something. I know that SHIELD has evidence of it. And I know that they'd give it over," Steve says hopefully. "If SHIELD was smart, they'd try and turn you."

*

"And I spend the rest of my life as their pawn, instead of the Russians', with the threat of my execution hanging over my head?" His voice is weary. "You're still a boyscout, Steve. What do you think SHIELD will do with me if I defect?"

*

"I don't know," Steve replies. "But I know that I'm looking for a way out. That's all I can do. If you want, I can talk to them about it."

*

"See if they'll offer me a deal," he directs, back to that detached quiet again. "I can't tell them much directly, but….being able to poke at the arm has to be worth something to their scientists. Immunity from prosecution….fuck, I might even consider working for them."

*

"Language, Buck," Steve says with a chuckle. "I imagine that you'll have to subject yourself to testing and psychological analysis. At least that's what I would ask you to do if I were them."

*

Bucky snorts at that. "I'm sure," he agrees, on a sigh. "Agreeing to turn might keep 'em from just dumping me in some black hole….set it up, Steve."

*

Steve nods, "I'll see what I can do." He comes to a stop and turns to his friend. "You need any money?"

*

He shakes his head. "No, I'm fine," he says, simply. "Make it soon," he adds, after a beat. "I don't have long."

*

Steve nods and gives him a swat on his arm. His real arm. "I will. Stay stafe."

*

LOG NOTE: SAFE NOT STAFE

*

And that's where Bucky leaves him. No farewells or goodbyes. He drops back, a pace, two, and then he's somehow lost in the crowd of evening commuters. As if he'd never been there at all.

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