Bucky Barnes returns in waves. He thinks of himself as Bucky, he shaves his face and cuts his hair, dresses in clothes that fit. He smiles at strangers on the street, holds the door for women and elderly, leaves big tips for the wait staff. He watches the news. He researches Captain America, Bucky Barnes, the Howling Commandos, Hydra, SHIELD.
If he comes across Hydra, he’ll destroy the cell, the agent, the what or whoever it is. But he doesn’t seek them out.
The first he dreams of the shadow after deciding to be Bucky again, he asks, “Why’d you keep me company?”
The shadow laughs. “You are an investment centuries in the making, child of Elisabeta. Of course I would visit now and again.”
“What are you?” Bucky asks. “I doubt a demon would’ve taken the time to comfort me.”
He can hear the smile in the shadow’s voice. “You wouldn’t have heard of me. You should rest, by the way. Your Steve is catching up.” The shadow laughs again. “He’s definitely my brother’s favorite.”
Bucky wakes and can hear the footsteps downstairs.
.
Steve is… completely healed. Bucky stays seated on the sleeping pallet, watching Steve slowly approach. The shield is on his back, his hands spread to show they’re empty. His eyes are wide, face –
“Bucky?” he asks. Bucky can hear the tears he’s holding back.
He sighs heavily and nods. “Hey, Steve.”
.
It had been – difficult, to realize he had never died. Never gone to Hell. Had given himself to Hydra without a fight. He’d been… very angry.
To see Steve alive and whole and healthy and so amazingly strong makes up for most of it. He figures he has the shadow to thank for the memories of being the asset feeling muted and faded. Oh, he can call up the information and knowledge whenever he needs to, and his body remembers – but it doesn’t hurt like it should. It helps him be Bucky.
Steve slept, his research had showed. For all those decades, Steve was safe.
Now that Steve’s in sight, Bucky can’t keep his eyes off him. Steve’s paused just out of reach, fingers digging into his own thighs as he tries not to grab at Bucky, pull him close, never ever let him go again. Bucky knows because he feels the same.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky finally says. Steve’s brow furrows. “For not being strong enough to hold on,” Bucky explains.
Steve’s mouth drops open and his expression – Bucky recognizes that one as Steve’s righteous rage. “Don’t you ever apologize me for anything about your fall and what Hydra did.”
“Steve,” Bucky says, very slowly and telegraphing every move, rising to his feet. “I didn’t fight them.” That, if nothing else, he needs Steve to understand. “I thought I was dead.” He looks away. “I thought I was in Hell, and I didn’t fight.”
Steve flinches back and Bucky glances over in time to his entire face crumple. “Oh, Steve, no,” Bucky says as Steve just lets himself go down and huddle on the floor. Bucky goes to him instantly, wrapping both arms around Steve and pulling him as close as he can.
He hears more footsteps. Immediately, he relocates Steve, grabs his nearest firearm, and readies himself to defend the mission.
“Steve?” It is Sam Wilson, he determines. “Hey, Steve, buddy, you alive in there?” There is apprehension in Sam Wilson’s tone. Fear. Anger.
Sam Wilson is wearing a communication device; he hears Natalia Romanova say, “Falcon, status?”
He feels Steve stirring behind him. “Sam, everything’s alright!” Steve shouts, one of his hands resting on –
Bucky shudders, sagging down against Steve. It’s been weeks since the last time he blanked.
Wilson peers around the doorway. “Stand down, Widow,” he mutters. “Steve, don’t you frighten me like that.”
“Sorry,” Steve calls. “I just…” His forehead is resting on Bucky’s back. “I just had a shock, is all.”
Wilson shakes his head. “C’mon in, Nat,” he says. “Things’re calm.”
Bucky closes his eyes, turning his face towards Steve. “I won’t let them lock me away,” he murmurs. If they try, he knows the asset will handle it. He doesn’t – he doesn’t want to kill Steve’s friends, but he won’t ever let himself be caged again, no matter who is doing the caging.
“Neither will I,” Steve murmurs back. “I swear, Bucky. Me and you against all comers, just like it used to be.”
Bucky knows they both hear Wilson’s reaction to that, but he focuses on Steve’s heartbeat, steady and strong. So strong.
“Okay,” Bucky says, opening his eyes.
.
When the shadow appears while Bucky is awake, he knows. “You said lost in war,” Bucky laughs mirthlessly. “You didn’t say which.”
“You look like him,” the shadow muses, swelling until all the light is gone. “The first mortal that ever dared to summon me. He wanted to protect his people; the price was that they alone would remember him fondly. Next was Elisabeta, daughter of Vlad.” The shadow rests against his face, his throat, his flesh arm – everywhere that skin shows. “And then you, James. Bucky.”
He sighs into the shadow. “What is the real price?”
The shadow pulls back. It condenses until all of it is contained in a pair of wings, just floating in the air – and then pure white eyes open from nothingness. Bucky flinches back from the brightness. “You are a warrior, James Buchanan Barnes. And you will fight for me.”
Bucky nods. “So long as Steve stays healthy, I’ll do anything.”
“He is my brother’s,” the shadow says, those unblinking eyes still focused on Bucky. “He pledged himself, if only you would live again.”
Everything in Bucky stills. “I never died,” Bucky says softly.
“And that’s almost the best part,” the shadow chortles.
There is no other choice. Bucky lets himself loosen. “So what’s the best?”
The wings come forward to wrap around him while the eyes disappear. “The best part?” the shadow whispers. “The best part, child of Elisabeta, child of Vlad, is that Steven Grant Rogers would have become Captain America deal with you or no.”
And the shadow’s gone just as Steve steps into the room. “Bucky?” he asks softly. Worriedly. And Bucky just starts laughing and can’t stop.
.
When he was a kid, Bucky hadn’t really cared that much about their family history. His father was the son of immigrants from Ireland; his mother was the daughter of immigrants from Romania. Both of them grabbed onto life as Americans with full hands and ignored their heritage, which is where Bucky supposes he gets it. He remembers now that his middle sister, Olivia, had soaked up as much of their grandmother’s knowledge from the old country as she could. Olivia’s dead now, of course. He’s sure there must be some record she kept, but James Barnes is dead.
The asset was mentioned in Hydra’s records, but not who it had been in life before. Only two pictures still exist, in the file Steve has secreted away somewhere. There is nothing else, thanks to Steve’s friends. (… and probably thanks to the shadow, too.)
So, Bucky can’t be sure. But a Vlad beloved by his own people and hated by everyone else? It’s not that hard to figure out.
He should tell Steve. About his deal with the shadow. That he knows Steve made a deal of his own. That both deals were pointless but made anyway.
FILL 4/6 Steve/Bucky, Bucky sold his soul (maybe)
Bucky Barnes returns in waves. He thinks of himself as Bucky, he shaves his face and cuts his hair, dresses in clothes that fit. He smiles at strangers on the street, holds the door for women and elderly, leaves big tips for the wait staff. He watches the news. He researches Captain America, Bucky Barnes, the Howling Commandos, Hydra, SHIELD.
If he comes across Hydra, he’ll destroy the cell, the agent, the what or whoever it is. But he doesn’t seek them out.
The first he dreams of the shadow after deciding to be Bucky again, he asks, “Why’d you keep me company?”
The shadow laughs. “You are an investment centuries in the making, child of Elisabeta. Of course I would visit now and again.”
“What are you?” Bucky asks. “I doubt a demon would’ve taken the time to comfort me.”
He can hear the smile in the shadow’s voice. “You wouldn’t have heard of me. You should rest, by the way. Your Steve is catching up.” The shadow laughs again. “He’s definitely my brother’s favorite.”
Bucky wakes and can hear the footsteps downstairs.
.
Steve is… completely healed. Bucky stays seated on the sleeping pallet, watching Steve slowly approach. The shield is on his back, his hands spread to show they’re empty. His eyes are wide, face –
“Bucky?” he asks. Bucky can hear the tears he’s holding back.
He sighs heavily and nods. “Hey, Steve.”
.
It had been – difficult, to realize he had never died. Never gone to Hell. Had given himself to Hydra without a fight. He’d been… very angry.
To see Steve alive and whole and healthy and so amazingly strong makes up for most of it. He figures he has the shadow to thank for the memories of being the asset feeling muted and faded. Oh, he can call up the information and knowledge whenever he needs to, and his body remembers – but it doesn’t hurt like it should. It helps him be Bucky.
Steve slept, his research had showed. For all those decades, Steve was safe.
Now that Steve’s in sight, Bucky can’t keep his eyes off him. Steve’s paused just out of reach, fingers digging into his own thighs as he tries not to grab at Bucky, pull him close, never ever let him go again. Bucky knows because he feels the same.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky finally says. Steve’s brow furrows. “For not being strong enough to hold on,” Bucky explains.
Steve’s mouth drops open and his expression – Bucky recognizes that one as Steve’s righteous rage. “Don’t you ever apologize me for anything about your fall and what Hydra did.”
“Steve,” Bucky says, very slowly and telegraphing every move, rising to his feet. “I didn’t fight them.” That, if nothing else, he needs Steve to understand. “I thought I was dead.” He looks away. “I thought I was in Hell, and I didn’t fight.”
Steve flinches back and Bucky glances over in time to his entire face crumple. “Oh, Steve, no,” Bucky says as Steve just lets himself go down and huddle on the floor. Bucky goes to him instantly, wrapping both arms around Steve and pulling him as close as he can.
He hears more footsteps. Immediately, he relocates Steve, grabs his nearest firearm, and readies himself to defend the mission.
“Steve?” It is Sam Wilson, he determines. “Hey, Steve, buddy, you alive in there?” There is apprehension in Sam Wilson’s tone. Fear. Anger.
Sam Wilson is wearing a communication device; he hears Natalia Romanova say, “Falcon, status?”
He feels Steve stirring behind him. “Sam, everything’s alright!” Steve shouts, one of his hands resting on –
Bucky shudders, sagging down against Steve. It’s been weeks since the last time he blanked.
Wilson peers around the doorway. “Stand down, Widow,” he mutters. “Steve, don’t you frighten me like that.”
“Sorry,” Steve calls. “I just…” His forehead is resting on Bucky’s back. “I just had a shock, is all.”
Wilson shakes his head. “C’mon in, Nat,” he says. “Things’re calm.”
Bucky closes his eyes, turning his face towards Steve. “I won’t let them lock me away,” he murmurs. If they try, he knows the asset will handle it. He doesn’t – he doesn’t want to kill Steve’s friends, but he won’t ever let himself be caged again, no matter who is doing the caging.
“Neither will I,” Steve murmurs back. “I swear, Bucky. Me and you against all comers, just like it used to be.”
Bucky knows they both hear Wilson’s reaction to that, but he focuses on Steve’s heartbeat, steady and strong. So strong.
“Okay,” Bucky says, opening his eyes.
.
When the shadow appears while Bucky is awake, he knows. “You said lost in war,” Bucky laughs mirthlessly. “You didn’t say which.”
“You look like him,” the shadow muses, swelling until all the light is gone. “The first mortal that ever dared to summon me. He wanted to protect his people; the price was that they alone would remember him fondly. Next was Elisabeta, daughter of Vlad.” The shadow rests against his face, his throat, his flesh arm – everywhere that skin shows. “And then you, James. Bucky.”
He sighs into the shadow. “What is the real price?”
The shadow pulls back. It condenses until all of it is contained in a pair of wings, just floating in the air – and then pure white eyes open from nothingness. Bucky flinches back from the brightness. “You are a warrior, James Buchanan Barnes. And you will fight for me.”
Bucky nods. “So long as Steve stays healthy, I’ll do anything.”
“He is my brother’s,” the shadow says, those unblinking eyes still focused on Bucky. “He pledged himself, if only you would live again.”
Everything in Bucky stills. “I never died,” Bucky says softly.
“And that’s almost the best part,” the shadow chortles.
There is no other choice. Bucky lets himself loosen. “So what’s the best?”
The wings come forward to wrap around him while the eyes disappear. “The best part?” the shadow whispers. “The best part, child of Elisabeta, child of Vlad, is that Steven Grant Rogers would have become Captain America deal with you or no.”
And the shadow’s gone just as Steve steps into the room. “Bucky?” he asks softly. Worriedly. And Bucky just starts laughing and can’t stop.
.
When he was a kid, Bucky hadn’t really cared that much about their family history. His father was the son of immigrants from Ireland; his mother was the daughter of immigrants from Romania. Both of them grabbed onto life as Americans with full hands and ignored their heritage, which is where Bucky supposes he gets it. He remembers now that his middle sister, Olivia, had soaked up as much of their grandmother’s knowledge from the old country as she could. Olivia’s dead now, of course. He’s sure there must be some record she kept, but James Barnes is dead.
The asset was mentioned in Hydra’s records, but not who it had been in life before. Only two pictures still exist, in the file Steve has secreted away somewhere. There is nothing else, thanks to Steve’s friends. (… and probably thanks to the shadow, too.)
So, Bucky can’t be sure. But a Vlad beloved by his own people and hated by everyone else? It’s not that hard to figure out.
He should tell Steve. About his deal with the shadow. That he knows Steve made a deal of his own. That both deals were pointless but made anyway.
He should. He doesn’t.