(no subject)

[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

Comments

[woundedwinter]

Barnes.

Goddamnit answer me.

Every text is ignored. Not that he doesn't want to, but he simply doesn't know what to say. Bucky opens his phone, looks at it and starts to reply before he closes it again.

He's alone.

Steve fell in Wakanda five years ago and the only reason he stayed with the Avengers was out of some stupid sense of obligation. Five exhausting years before they finally put things right again. Five years of stuffing down his grief and his loneliness.

Only Bucky didn't get his happy ending. Like Clint and Wanda, his loved one didn't come back after the Blip. Tony, Steve, Natasha, Vision were dead. They weren't coming back. Governments of the world would only discuss a pardon for the former Winter Soldier when they learned about his role in reversing the Blip. Bastards.

He went back to Brooklyn. He suffered through therapy and ignored Sam's texts until he told him Steve was involved.

Then he broke every record racing to the hospital in Jersey.

Steve Steve Steve. Steve is alive.

He breaks into his room angrily and the sight hits him like a blow to the chest. "Holy shit."

"S-stevie?"

[bottledblond]

Steve is wearing clothes the fit for the first time in his life, which is nothing at all to be grumpy about, but he’s tired of being at the hospital. They’ve given him books, contact lenses that make it possible to read the small print, and art supplies but he’s a prisoner here. They’re running tests, which he doesn’t like, and talking nonsense which he really doesn’t like.

He’s not the only person in this oddball situation though. He’s heard a few nurses and orderlies talking about ‘people out of time’ and he’s come to realize that they’re not talking about the dying. He also once had this guy who was speaking, he’s pretty sure, Latin of all things barge into his room. He looked afraid of everything, especially the machines.

No explanations of that either.

Seeing Bucky, though, good old Bucky Barnes, makes him smile. He’s annoyed but Bucky usually gets things sorted out for him. “Heard you made Sergeant,” he grins, right up until he notices the look on Bucky’s face. “I know it’s been awhile, but geez, pal, there are ladies around here so watch your language. Still, wow. Is it ever great to see a friendly face.”

[woundedwinter]

Is he hallucinating?
He's not sure. Years of nightmares and two months on his own have left him a little unraveled and shaky and he is still ignoring his phone as it blows up about more people showing up from outside of time.

Nothing else matters when he takes in that familiar face. Steve. He staggers forward, cupping his face in his hands. He feels real. This isn't a dream.

"Christ pal. It's been.. I never thought I'd see you again."

[bottledblond]

Steve’s blue eyes narrow, their color off slightly because of the lenses in them. They’re visible from as close as Bucky is. Steve wrinkles his nose, hot breath rolling across his lips and cheeks. His eyelashes flutter slightly and his face reddens.

“Buck...” Steve reaches up to place his hands on Bucky’s wrists, though there’s barely any strength there. “You don’t mean that. You were always coming back. And I was trying to come to you anyway.”

Steve doesn’t look away. His eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s daring the other to do it first.

“No one’s telling me anything,” Steve says. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

[woundedwinter]

Contacts. He's wearing contacts so he can see. It's a jarring change but everything else is so incredibly Steve that it can't be anyone else.

Slowly the realization dawns on him and his eyes go wide.

"I'll tell you everything but you gotta answer one question first. What's the last thing you remember before making it to this hospital?"

[bottledblond]

With a gentle tug, Steve tries to dislodge Bucky’s hands from his cheeks. It’s uncomfortable for too many reasons and Bucky’s skin is almost too hot on his own... or at least that’s what he tells himself. His wrinkles his nose again, trying to follow Bucky’s darker eyes around his face, unsure of the scrutiny.

“Just before? Uh, well something bad happened to the barracks. I was getting out of my boots before lights out and my hands... this is going to sound crazy, but my hands were flaking off, like they were made of dried paint. I blinked and then I was still at Camp Lehigh, but there was something real wrong with it. No one was there and it was destroyed.”

He shakes his head, or tries to if Bucky’s hands will let him.

“Been here for what? Two months now. A little more. But before that, you only just shipped out..” Something is wrong here. Steve can see so much up close and with contacts in. “You uh... don’t take this the wrong way pal, but you look different.”

[woundedwinter]

When Steve pulls away Bucky lets him, briefly grateful that he'd forgotten to take off his gloves.

The whole explanation leaves him poleaxed, stunned to his very core. He summons a shaky smile, "It's been a long time since I shipped out, pal. Gimme a second to talk to the nurses and we'll get out of here."

He's leaving with Steve and it might take some arguing but ten minutes later he's back, easing the IV out of his arm. "We've got a lot to talk about but let's get the big stuff out of the way."

Bucky pauses because there's no way to make this sound sane. "You faded out, but when you came back, you didn't come back at the same time."

"Steve it's 2023."

[bottledblond]

He knows the drill. He usually bleeds a whole lot, and trying to get it to stop is a small feat into and off itself. Since he’s been at the hospital though, the needles here have been whisper thin and he hasn’t had too many bleeding incidents. Especially with the new kind of bandages they’ve given him. Watching Bucky roll down his sleeve is something he’s seen many, many times, but those gloves are still jarring to watch.

No wonder his face had felt so warm from Bucky’s palms. The guy is in leather gloves!

Above to slip off of the bed, Bucky’s words cause him to pause. But just for a minute. “Ha-ha,” he draws our, putting his pencils and book away. “Real knee slapped, that one. 2023? And you aren’t an old man bent over a cane?”

He’s a smart guy and he’s already figured out that something bad happened. And that he’s not where he’s supposed to be. The doctors are half women, a great thing but strange to Steve. And they wear their hair differently. The men too. None of them dress the way doctors should.

Plus, there are tiny boxes with movies on them. That’s not right at all. And the view out of his window is a courtyard, but he can see a plane fly overhead now and then. Also not right.

“Can you be serious with me? How long ago did you last see me?”

[woundedwinter]

Bucky doesn't expect Steve to believe him, not right away. It's too fantastic, too much for anyone to believe. "I know, it's like those cheap science fiction books I used to read to you when you were sick."

"It's been eighty years," his nose crinkles in thought, "give or take a little."

"Come on, let's get out of here. We can get a pizza before heading back to my place." A place he's probably going to have to do something with now. Shit. Well, Steve can have the bed at least, it's not like he's using it.

It'll also give him time to try and order his thoughts to answer any questions Steve asks.

[bottledblond]

“You can stop the crap, Barnes. I’m not going to fall for it.” It’s very Bucky to make oddball jokes. Something bad had happened to him. His brain had turned to mush, his body had shut down, he had some kind of break— Basic training, just the first day of it, had nearly killed him. He’d washed out of the program the moment he’d gotten his chance. These are the things that had been going through his mind over the last two months of people coming in to talk to him.

He’d answered lots of crazy questions too, he’d put up with testing and photos and people analyzing his art and taking medication...

The end result was that he could see, which was great, and his bones didn’t always hurt. He’d not had an asthma attack since he’d gotten here and his heart had a mostly regular rhythm in his ears now that he found oddly comforting to fall asleep by.

So, not all bad. He’d started to think that maybe Rebirth hadn’t planned out but whatever had happened to him and the Latin speaking guy down the hall hadn’t been for nothing. He’d gotten a visit from a General too, which had been pretty amazing, and thanked for his service.

Steve frowns up at Bucky, but grabs his sketchbook. The rest of the things here aren’t his, and maybe the book isn’t either but he’s not just going to leave his drawings. He follows Bucky out of the room, nodding at the nurses he has come to know at the station in the middle of the hallway and gets on the escalator.

Everything is fine until he gets outside. The cars aren’t right. The way people are dressed now is even more wrong.

Steve feels dizzy but his body, for once, holds up. “Where did they take me...?” Oh no. Did HYDRA and the Nazis win the war?!

[woundedwinter]

A chuckle as he puts his arm around him and it's like a piece that had been ripped out of him finally slots back into place. God but he's missed him. Small and mouthy and ready to take on the world.

"I told ya pal, the future. This is a hospital in Jersey. I got a place back in Brooklyn, we'll be home soon."

They've got a lot to talk about.

"You hungry for something better than hospital food? We can grab some lunch before going back."

Not that he keeps much food in his apartment. Maybe a half loaf of bread and a couple of beers in addition to his coffee maker.

Christ. He needs to go shopping.

[bottledblond]

“You said pizza,” Steve replies, unblinking, as a car drives around the port coche leading up the door so an elderly woman can get out. His voice is soft, almost desperately so, as if he’s in shock, but he does move out from under Bucky’s arm as if on instinct to help the woman. “Ma’am, allow me,” he says, in his white button down and khaki trousers, hair still parted in the middle. He helps her right to the door and the kid driving the car yells out that he’ll find a parking space and be right there. “You’ll be all right?” Steve checks with her before helping her to a bench to wait for the driver once she confirms that she’s all right.

If Bucky had at all been wondering if this was a set up himself, that should take full care of it. This was Steve Rogers, innocent, before the serum, before the war, before the crash, never knowing Bucky to be an assassin or HYDRA or how hard he’d had to work to get his life back.

Five years, two months, and Steve has all eyes on him and no agenda to save the world.

He gives Bucky a half smirk, as if recharged by helping the old woman. It had given him time to collect himself, and he’s ready to see what else might happen.

Even if he’s pretty sure they’ll have to start Hail HYDRA ing to fit in, which he’ll refuse, and they’ll likely string him up for it.

He slips his hands into his pockets. “Still living with your mom, Buck?” he teases... he can’t bring himself to ask how they’ll get back home from Jersey.

[woundedwinter]

Bucky doesn't fight it when Steve slips away to help the old woman to the door. When he turns back to him, for a moment all Bucky can see is Steve in Wakanda when they had failed five years ago. The look of exhaustion and defeat shifting into one of confusion as he started to fade into ash, whispering his name one last time.

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. He can't afford to lose it now, even if the idea of filling Steve in on the last nintey years makes him vaguely nauseous.

"No. No I got my own place." He shoves his hand in his pocket, the keys biting into the leather of his glove. "Come on. My car's over here."

It's a pretty nondescript vehicle, boring and blue but it's enough. He leaves the radio off and starts the car, turning them back towards New York. "The roads are a lot better than they used to be. It won't take us long."

[bottledblond]

Steve isn’t ready for the drive, though he doesn’t cower or yell as they turn into the highway or pass roadside, outdoor shopping malls with massive signs spouting all sorts of odd sounding places.

He’d had to get over a seatbelt first, though, and the fact that the car knew he wasn’t wearing it with the alarm it sounded as Bucky turned on the ignition.

He’s amazed by how smooth the drive is. By how many cars there are. At one point, he even presses his hands to the windows, cold under his touch, to get a better look.

His awe is somewhat bedraggled. Somewhat tempered by his worry.

And then they get to the tunnel, something that had been built during his childhood but he’d never gone through. His mind is racing as he turns to Bucky. “We’re under the River,” he says, breathing hard. “This is incredible!”

[woundedwinter]

More than once he has to curb the desire to reach out and touch, to be certain that Steve isn't some hallucination cooked up by his damaged head and lonely life. But he keeps his hands on the wheel, only glancing over at Steve when he can while still keeping them on the road.

He takes it all in stride, because of course he would. Even when he was the smallest guy in the room Steve was still the biggest and bravest of any of them.

A quirk of his lips at the amazement and the way he's got his hands pressed to the glass like he can somehow get closer to it all. "Yeah pal, we are."

Parking in the city, as always is something of a nightmare but luck is with him again as he swings into a spot just in front of his building. "Pizza's about a block and a half over. We can walk from here."

Bucky keeps his hands in his pockets as they walk and his jacket on in spite of the warm spring weather. Sooner or later he's going to have to give up both the gloves and jacket but that's a problem for later. He doesn't want Steve to look at him differently. Not yet, anyway.

[bottledblond]

Steve’s eyes are fixed upwards. There’s so much glass and so much shine to the place. He recognizes street names but not the streets themselves and when they come to a corner he remembers the Michaelson Twins used to have an apartment on with their bratty sister and parents and there’s nothing but a coffee shop there and a brick high rise, Steve actually feels himself getting dizzy.

Someone with green hair — oh God! — bumps into him and Steve feels himself careening into a person wearing a bright yellow sweater, midriff left open. Both people yell at him, and Steve mumbles his apologies, unsure of where to turn. He puts a hand to his chest, but his heart rate is fine and he’s breathing all right.

“Okay... okay Buck. I think I believe you,” he says, trying to pull himself together.

[woundedwinter]

When Steve is jostled, Bucky puts his arm around him drawing him in a little closer. The hand on his chest has old memories bubbling up of a pending asthma attack or his heart acting up and Bucky can feel his own chest tighten in anxiety until he realizes that there's no corresponding wheeze or rattle to his breathing like there used to be.

"It's okay Stevie. There's a lot to take in." It's so much to take in, but they have each other now and that's something Bucky will hold on to with all his strength. He can't go back to being alone again.

Thankfully the pizza place he has in mind isn't all that crowded this time of day and Bucky can get them a table. Old habits die hard and he swiftly assesses the place, noting exits and points of entry and scans everyone sitting and eating or looking down at their phones.

"Have a seat. I'm gonna get us a couple of beers." It's a shame he can't get drunk because the stories he's going to have to tell are occasionally wonderful but all too often terrible.

The gloves stay on as he sits down, sliding a beer over to Steve. "Here, better than the crap we used to try and get our hands on."

[bottledblond]

Bucky is hurting, and Steve recognized that by the way he’d grabbed him, the way he had protected him, as if he’d forgotten how much Steve hated it. He didn’t need to be rescued. He wasn’t a damsel in distress. Steve had let it go for now, but only because he recognized the terror in Bucky.

Steve had felt it too, the night before his mother died. He’d been unable to hold her back from death, and in her last lucid moment, he’d tried to do it anyway. He’d been afraid she’d go just that moment, and he’d reacted. Bucky had done exactly the same.

The little shop feels a lot like the ones in the old neighborhood except there aren’t white linen on the tables and the silverware feels cheap. The napkins are even cheaper and he might just die when he sees the plates.

The beer is good, though, better than they could afford, and that leaves Steve looking pale.

“Dont got my wallet. Army confiscated it when I went into the program,” he says, gazing at the beer he doesn’t dare drink for its expense. “I had a few nickels on me in the hospital but....”. He hadn’t thought to grab them.

Crap.

[woundedwinter]

He knows he needs to dial it back, to relax and not crowd Steve while he processes finding himself so far in the future, in a home town he no longer recognizes. That's probably going to take a few phone calls with Sam or god help him his therapist, but for Steve he'll make the effort.

He holds up his hand to try and forestall any more protest. "It's okay. I got nintey years of back pay from the Army plus a pretty nice retirement package. I can cover us."

Okay so the "retirement" is funded by countless HYDRA bases he destroyed and accounts he'd emptied but that can all come much later.

"We can order whatever you want. It's one of the great things about the future," he leans across the table a bit to keep the conversation between the two of them. "Food from all over the world. Oranges in the middle of winter. Fresh apples any time we want em."

"It's not so bad once you get used to it."

[bottledblond]

Oranges in the middle of winter...? Sorry, he’s having trouble getting his mind around that. There’s a blank look to his face as he takes in everything Bucky’s said before his eyes turn back towards the beer.

After a breath, he makes half of it disappear in his stomach. He burps gently behind his fist and exhales heavily.

“Okay. Okay.” Intense blue eyes fix an equally intense gaze on Bucky. “Okay, that’s better. Lay it on me, pal. Cant be any stranger than putting little lenses in my eyeballs to let me see.”

He presses his lips together for a moment.

“Let’s start with us. Before I started off at the hospital, it’d been two days since I saw you. But uh. Yeah. It’s been a lot longer for you, huh?”

[woundedwinter]

Bucky schools his expression into something blank and calm at the statement because things are so much stranger than being able to use contacts. "Yeah. Yeah but before I go into that, we've got to talk about something else first. It's the only way most of this is gonna make sense."

He really, really wishes Strange was around so he could explain timelines and divergence but it's up to him to try on his own.

"This is all gonna sound fantastic and crazy but you've gotta trust me. This is the only way the rest will line up."

Bucky scatters salt on the table and draws a straight line through it. "This? This is my timeline, what I remember from the time I shipped out to right now. Beginning to end, no blips. The thing is, time is kinda funny. It can split off, it can fracture."

He draws a second line along the one representing him. Steve right with him until the end. Until Wakanda. Then it stops. He draws another line from the beginning of Steve's line, connecting it to his.

"See the thing is? I remember shipping out, everything from the war. I remember being captured by the enemy. I remember being tortured." There's only a faint tremor in his hand as he picks up his beer. "Thought I was gonna die there, at least until some skinny punk from back home shows up and saves my life and the entire unit. Project Rebirth, it. it worked. Turned you into a super soldier that saved so many lives."

"Hell, you saved the world a few times over."

[bottledblond]

It’s a whole lot. The diagram is helpful but Bucky is still incredibly vague. He sets his jaw and brushes the salt away so he can lay his drawing book between them. There are many, many full pages, but he doesn’t stop to let Bucky see any. At the first blank set, he pulls a charcoal pencil from his case, slipped from his pocket. A red and a blue drafting pencil join them.

“Let me make sure this is right.” He picks up the black pencil. “So this is time.” He draws a long line and then picks up the blue pencil, which he draws closely to the underside of the black mark. He draws a little circle closest to him. “So this is when we entered the war.” A little bit closer to Bucky he marks another dot. “This is the night before went off to basic.” And another, closer still to Bucky. “And when I got shipped to Camp Lehigh. Uh... so then this is you being captured. And me saving you... and...and I’m guessing this is when I turned to dust for you.” He’s making an assumption. But it’s an educated one. He doesn’t pause and instead makes a mark very close to Bucky now, having to lift himself off of his chair to do it. “And this is now.”

Steve takes up the red pencil and colors over the first blue dot to make it purple. “Enter the war. You left to basic. I left to basic.” And from that third dot, he draws a loop to the last dot by Bucky. He colors it hard, teeth gritting. “Now. So I skipped all of the middle parts. Your version of me puffed into nothing. And way back here, I did the same in another time and place. So you guys fixed what caused it, right? But I didn’t go back there. I came back here. And chances are, the other me, the hero, the one that saved you and the world, he’s way back here.”

Steve drops the pencil in the crease of the book as their pizza is brought over. He presses his lips together yet again, but he doesn’t look away from the steam rising from their lunch.

“You got screwed over, Buck. Sorry.”

[woundedwinter]

"What?" His question is sharp, brows furrowed. "Screwed over? No. Christ no, Stevie. You've got no idea how happy I am to see you again."

He makes a few corrections, adjusting when he was rescued back in Azzano. "The other you disappeared five years ago. Here. We set things right, it was supposed to bring everyone back but we took a lot of losses. People we didn't expect to see back. People like the other Steve."

"Everyone scattered after that," he looks down, away from the delivered pizza. "I was alone. I didn't have anybody. I haven't for a long time."

[bottledblond]

“It still stands that you should have gotten him back and you got me instead.” Things have fallen into place for him. Project Rebirth worked, somehow, and despite his limitations, he was able to do great things. No wonder he’d been grilled by all of those people. The hero version of himself happened to disappear five years ago and the world wanted him back.

He’s going to stew over that for some time. Just, perhaps, not now. Not after Bucky says that he’s been alone.

“Why were you— Never in your whole damned life have you been alone. How many people disappeared? Half, right? I heard someone say it. Is that right? Half isn’t everyone.” He doesn’t have all of the answers.

[woundedwinter]

"Yeah well," he reaches out, taking one of his pencils and tapping at the dot indicating the time he had been captured. "I'm not the guy you remember. HYDRA got their claws on me when I was captured. They, ah, experimented on me."

His hand, steady as a rock when he's holding a weapon, shakes briefly as he marks another point and tries not to think about the train or the shock and grief on Steve's face as he fell. "They got me again here, but this time nobody sprang me. Everyone thought I was dead, even Steve." He grits his teeth and forces himself to continue.

"I broke under the torture. Held out as long as I could, but I broke." The newspaper clipping proclaiming the death of Captain America and his heroic sacrifice had been the tipping point. He remembers that much.

"For decades I wasn't the good guy Steve. I was a brainwashed assassin for HYDRA. I got more kills than I ever really want to think about." His chest is tight and the pencil snaps in his hand. "Not many people want to be around a person like that."