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[bottledblond]

Not every universe in the far and wide cosmos is as lucky (however unlucky itself that seems) to encounter Thanos during a time where people live who can do something about it. Steve Rogers, a particular version of Steve Rogers who had only just suffered through his first night of basic training in New Jersey as part of the Army’s Project Rebirth and thus had not yet become Captain America, bent to untie his shoes and saw his hands begin to disintegrate. He doesn’t panic, panicking is for people who do not live like every breath is their last. Instead, he blinks in surprise as the barracks fill with shouting. He has time to contemplate two things. One, he wishes he’d done more with his life. And two, he hopes Bucky will do all right.

He’s still thinking about that last issue when he exhales his last in a universe where Captain America never existed and finishes it bent over in the ruins of the barracks, roof half open to the sky and walls a burnt and ashy gray.

It takes him an hour to get to the road and by then, his asthma is already getting the best of him. He blacks out for the second time ‘that day’ and wakes up staring at the ceiling of what is obviously a hospital.

It just doesn’t sound or smell like a hospital. Sure. People are running around and yelling, but it smells painfully clean, artificially so, and there are machines he’s never seen before connected by wires to his body. He does the thing people should never do and yanks them loose. The machines squawk strangely and frantically and Steve is almost out of bed when two large men in green pajamas force him back.

Nothing makes sense to him for days. People come to talk to him, to find out who he is and who his family is. Evidently Steve Rogers is a popular name, because they bring in more people to talk to him, to ask him questions about his life, but no one has any answers.

He explodes, as he’s wont to do when frustrated, demands answers, but nothing they say makes sense.

By then, the war is over. Not World War II, which has evidently been over for over half a century, but this new war. And Bucky Barnes had been told of his presence. Steve is in bed, arms crossed, looking dour and getting an infusion of something that honestly is helping him breathe better when Bucky bursts into his now private room. It’s been two months

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[bottledblond]

Steve more or less hears what Bucky says. He files it away, the people and faces stuck together, but there’s only two people in the photo he focuses on. One he knows very well. He’s seen him his whole life with that shit eating grin.

And the guy next to him, dark blond hair with a beard and blue eyes, arm around Bucky’s shoulders, is even more obvious.

Steve’s eyes are fixed on that image of a tall, strong, handsome version of himself.

He falls quiet.

[woundedwinter]

"Stevie." His hand closes gently around his wrist to try and draw his attention back to the present. "I know what you're doing and don't."

"Don't compare yourself to that Steve. You're still a good man. Strong. Brave." His thumb traces along his jaw. "Incredible. You've got faith, you've got so much heart."

[bottledblond]

“How can I not?” Steve’s not the type to be insecure but he’s looking into a Could Have Been image of a better him. A guy that saved Bucky, that saved the world, that was lost in time. No wonder they’d been willing to finally just let him go and write him off.

He’s not their hero.

He’s not smiling with his arm around Bucky and around Sam, having a family of sorts.

Steve doesn’t look up, he just looks off until Bucky touches his face. He can feel his skin redden and heat. “Faith doesn’t get you too far pal. We both know that. Heart doesn’t do much better.”

[woundedwinter]

"Hey." His voice is soft, still touching him. "You were picked for Rebirth because of your heart, because of your faith."

"All it did was change the outside of you. It didn't change the inside."

"Faith in me is what helped me break decades of HYDRA conditioning."

[bottledblond]

"None of that was me," Steve says, lifting his hand to Bucky's wrist to encourage him to remove his fingers. There's dangerous feelings in place here and it's only going to be so long until Steve can't blame it on the inadequacy he's feeling. "The guy you relied on, the guy that shared a whole war or two or three with you is somewhere else. He's probably doing a lot of good right now. He's probably saved you already from all of this."

Steve hopefully is able to tug Bucky's hand down and will hold it down if he can on his own knee. The tablet has grown dark from disuse and Steve is glad that the photo is no longer there.

"I don't know you anymore. Not the way he did. I don't know anything about you, Buck. I want to. We still have a history and Brooklyn don't leave your veins, not for anything. But I can't live up to what you lost. I don't want you hating me for it."

[woundedwinter]

Bucky withdraws his hand and lets Steve place it where he needs it to go. It was probably too much and he'd overstepped.

"You know it took the other Steve a long time to realize that I was never really gonna be the Bucky he remembered from home or from the war." He nods and closes up the tablet, setting it aside. Enough memories for tonight.

"So I get it. But listen, you don't have anything to live up to. You don't."

He gives him a gentle chuck to the shoulder. "And I could never hate you pal. Not ever."

[bottledblond]

Steve might smile, weakly, but he doesn’t feel at all like it. His heart isn’t in it and he certainly doesn’t have the faith that Bucky assures him he must.

“I’m not going to be the other me.”

His fingers lightly stroke over Bucky’s knuckles, eyes completely downcast.

“And you’re not going to be the other you. So.” He lifts his eyes and this time, his smile is more real. “So I guess we can work, right?”

[woundedwinter]

Something that feels like relief floods his chest at that smile. "Yeah. Yeah you're damn right we can work."

Bucky pulls a face as he remembers the date. "I'll order in for dinner tonight, see about getting more food delivered. Tomorrow morning I've got mandatory therapy." And his expression should convey just how happy he is about that prospect.

"But after that we can do whatever you want."

[bottledblond]

Delivered? That’s what old women do, bribing neighborhood kids to do the shopping for a penny or a pie or some sweets. Steve scratches his head, but doesn’t ask.

He’s too interested in this therapy of Bucky’s. “For your arm?” There’s no such thing as this kind of psychology when he’s from. Mental health is not something people do.

Sam hadn’t really described how he helps vets, just that he talks to them and gives them what they need.

“Can I come?”

[woundedwinter]

"What? No, no it's not that kind of therapy." He takes a moment because it didn't exist all those years ago. "When I was the Winter Solider, I didn't know who I was. I didn't remember anything. They scrambled my brains with.." he huffs because that isn't important.

"Going to therapy helps me get things back in order. In my head."

[bottledblond]

“So it would be a good idea if I come,” Steve says, fixated for some reason on the thought that, perhaps, he could be part of the solution for Bucky.

The guy he remembers used to focus so much attention on him that Steve had felt smothered at times but he knows from his own life experience that having a project to focus on (like getting into the Army by any means necessary) could be just the thing for Bucky.

“I’ll just sit in the waiting room and read the paper:” His mind will be blown by magazines.

[woundedwinter]

She's gonna have to find out about Steve sooner or later and better that it comes from him. Maybe she'll leave the stupid notebook alone for the session.

Ha. Like that'll happen.

"Okay pal. If you wanna come and wait you can. I usually get lunch after. You can pick where we go."

[bottledblond]

“I literally don’t know what there is,” Steve just wants to point out, pulling back his hands because he’s been holding onto Bucky’s for a long time now. “I’ve never been picky.”

He couldn’t afford to be, of course.

Art supplies left on the table, Steve and Bucky head to Bucky’s therapist with Steve still fixated on all of the things that pass along the way. He can’t help himself. He smiles brightly at the woman at the desk, marvels at how bright and comfortable modern waiting rooms is, and when Bucky is called, he smiles at the dark haired woman at the door that gives him a narrow eyed once over.

She’s going to start with that in Barnes’ session.

[woundedwinter]

It's not one of their better sessions. Bucky is tense and uneasy already because he knows what she's going to say. That he has to tell others about Steve, that he can't consider him a replacement for the one who died.

He's not a replacement. This Steve is different from the one who became Cap, the same way he's different from Sargeant Barnes during the war.

And no way is he bringing Steve in for a session.

Bucky is tense and quiet when they leave. He normally gets sushi after a session but today he wants something different.

"There's a good burger place not far." He could use two burgers and a few beers.

[bottledblond]

Steve is quiet, thoughtful, and keeps glancing up at Bucky the way the man might remember him doing back in the Brooklyn of days gone by when he wants to make some speech or another. The blond holds his tongue, though.

The world they pass on foot has somehow become easier to navigate. Steve is just an adaptable person, sure, but the human brain can’t fixate on everything at once and it leaves the less important parts out.

Yes. People are dressed differently. Yes, their hair is strange. But Steve still sees them as people, and people in passing.

They’re a block away when Steve finally reaches out to grab Bucky’s arm. He’s out of breath. “Shorter legs than you, remember,” he asks, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Nothing chasing us.”

[woundedwinter]

The catch on his arm slows him down and he grimaces. "Shit. I'm sorry pal. I'm not always in the best place after that." He drags a hand across his face.

"We can take a bit if you need it."

He glances around out of habit, making sure no one is a threat or a problem.

[bottledblond]

“I don’t need it if you walk like a normal person,” Steve grumbles.

He’s not going to press for the reason Bucky is annoyed. He’s not going to ask any more questions right now. That’s not really the way it was done back then.

You don’t share like that.

“I’m actually pretty excited. Never had a hamburger before.” He’d never been able to afford ground meat.

[woundedwinter]

"I know, I know." And for Steve he summons a smile as they start walking at a more sedate pace.

He's going to pick up steaks too. Grill them out on the rooftop grill the residents had set up. Showing Steve all the great things about living so far from where they started cheers him up immediately.

It's a distraction sure, but a good one.

"Burgers with bacon and cheese and all the fries," he promises. "There are foods from other countries too. India, China, Japan. You're gonna love it."

[bottledblond]

“You’re making me feel like this is a date,” Steve says for reasons that utterly baffle him. It’s not something he should be joking about, not even in a public place where other people are rushing around them. No one is listening but it feels dangerous.

He puts a little pep in his step anyway, going as fast as his legs will let him. Honestly, that’s really not all that fast. He just wants an excuse to move.

“Not really sure what all is in those kinds of foods, but I’d like to try,” he attempts to continue the conversation, hoping the place they’re going his close.

His lungs hurt.

[woundedwinter]

He barks out a laugh as they keep walking. "You know that's a thing now, right? Being gay isn't a crime. Fellas can date fellas."

They may as well talk about that too.

"You'll love them. It's one of the best things in New York." Not that he'd had a chance to eat much of it during his time with HYDRA.

[bottledblond]

“Dating fellas?” They need to stop jumping around topics. More often than not, Bucky is just on a constant stint of breaking his mind. Steve’s stopped walking, and falls a pace or two behind if Bucky isn’t paying attention to his footfalls. He’ll catch up, or try to, but his lungs just feel like their ache is starting to spread into his chest.

He’s still not a well man. The medications and infusions, the corrective soles in his shoes and the contact lenses had gone a long way to fixing him up, but health isn’t always a look on the outside.

Steve swallows down the dryness.

“I think I need a history book. Or twelve.”

[woundedwinter]

He stops and turns back, his expression shifting to one of concern. "Stevie? Hey, come on. Let's sit for a second."

Later on he'll be upset at himself for not remembering to slow his pace for Steve, for forgetting he's still not at his strongest.

Even if Steve objects he's going to try to get him to sit on a bench and catch his breath.

"Yeah. I'll get you all the books you want." He rubs his forehead. "I'm sorry. I know I'm a fuckup today."

[bottledblond]

“Yeah... well I know I kind of just came back to life for you after five years missing... what? Ten years of memories?” And a capable, muscular, healthy body. Cant forget that. “I think we need a little time to figure it all out.”

The color in his cheeks retreats after a few moments, and Steve spends the time looking at everyone passing. New York has always been a hub of crazy hustle and bustle, but this is almost too much.

He’s going to need time to acclimate.

But he also wants a hamburger pretty darn badly.

“I’m okay. Sorry, thanks for waiting up,” Steve says, getting back to his feet.

It’s only when they’re seated in their second restaurant for the day sipping beers that Steve speaks up again. “I don’t want you to feel obligated with me, pal. You’ve got your own mess to get through. If you need time for yourself, Sam said I could call any time.”

[woundedwinter]

Bucky shakes his head, "No, I should be apologizing. The last few years I've been all tied up in my own head. People want me to figure out about eighty years of abuse and brainwashing and it's.."

Damnit. He's doing it again and Bucky pulls a face.

"It's hard but look, if you want to talk to Sam you can. You can call him anytime."

[bottledblond]

Steve wets his lips, his eyes on the evidently as ethnically pleasing cracks in the butcher block table. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

For Steve’s whole life, up until the night that Bucky shipped off, the guy has burdened his friend. Oh, he knows Bucky cares for him, would do anything for him, and maybe that’s the problem. Bucky doesn’t need a project because, as he just said, he’s trying to get through the abuse he’d suffered.

The guy was captured by the enemy, experimented on, lost his arm, was brain washed to kill the innocent, lost all of his friend, and now he’s dealing with a friend who remembers him from his early twenties before any of that bad stuff happened.

“I know this has got to be pretty bad for you. I’m glad you came to see me, though. Real glad. I was getting tired of no one giving me any answers and... that was the longest time in my life I’ve spent without you. I guess that’s not great to say when it’s been five years to my measly two months.”