Steve Rogers

That just left this guy, who could maybe be of use after all. He pressed his lips together in a tight line and nodded, hardly saying a word. Now to get to his feet. It was a process, the Asset’s jaw clenching in pain that reached right through his conditioning as he scrabbled at the wall for support in getting to his knees. Eventually, he got his feet under him, but his balance was precarious, and there was still blood gleaming wetly under the light, smeared across his leather vest. When he spoke, his voice was a soft, pained rumble. “No hospitals.”

“Either way, if we head this way, we’re goin’ straight for my place. Hope you’re up for the walk.” He could hear something like a voice that could have been Bucky in his mind telling him how hypocritical he was. But again, he chose to ignore it in favor of helping this man.

“So, you’re an artist?” He asked, head cocked with interest. It seemed like a good thing to start with. After all, he’d interrupted what had looked to be some very intensive work. That reminded him… “Is it too nosy of me to ask what you were working on?”

“Yeah...I graduated from NYU. Got an art degree. I know, makes shitty money, but it’s what I love doing.” His apartment was a dump, and it didn’t keep him very warm in the winter, but he got to do his commissions. “I was just working on one of my commissions. They asked me to draw their fiance, for a wedding gift or something. You’re welcome to look at it if you don’t spill.”

❝Come on, I’ll introduce you to nutella. It’ll change your life.❞

Steve eyed him warily. “What the hell is nutella?” He asked, though he finally gave up. His other self knew this city better than Steve did. It bothered him tremendously, but for the time being...”fine. Let’s go.” His shoulders slumped a little at that. It felt like giving up.

❝I wanna see him.❞  Stewart refused to believe Bucky wouldn’t be the same asshole they always knew him to be.  ❝Is he in the infirmary still?❞

Steve had to do some things on his own. Steve let out a sigh. “He is...but...fine. He’ll probably be happier to see you anyway.” Seeing as Stewart was still the same. He hadn’t gone and confused Bucky with what had been done to him. “Come on then. But don’t expect everything to be the same as it was.” Was Steve’s only warning before he started off toward the infirmary, expecting Stewart to follow him.

The tiny pieces of food that he’d sneaked from various dumpsters and bins held very little in terms of nourishment, for a human nevermind a super-solider slash assassin, and it was obvious that a lack of food, sleep and safety were slowly taking their toll on the young man. He staggered with every stumbling footstep, arms wrapped tightly across his flat stomach in a squeezing grim, face contorted with pain every time a hunger pang twisted inside of him. But Steve had offered food, and so it was with one painful step after the other that he trailed obediently after him, his steps a little lighter than they had been when under Hydra’s neglectful care.

He let out a relieved sigh once he had seen that James was actually still following him, and then he continued forward until he got to his current apartment, smaller than the one that had been filled with bullets, but it also didn’t have any bugs. Steve had damn well made sure of that before he had properly moved in. He also wouldn’t allow any agents to get near his place again. His trust in people had steadily been going down the more time went on, and it tore at something with him. He wasn’t sure how to be the person that people expected him to be and yet still keep a reasonable distance from those that might be too politically motivated. He glanced over his shoulder as he unlocked the door. “Would you want to eat anything specific? I can make pasta.” That was really about the only thing Steve could make, but that wasn’t something he needed to mention.

Looking at the uniform, Stewart nodded his head a few times. ❝Very ‘I’m patriotic America’. Somethin’ I’m sure they were goin’ for.❞ He paused. ❝I ain’t ever done makin’ fun of you. It’s how I show my brotherly love.❞ Teasing Steve came as naturally to him as breathing and he didn’t really know any other way around it. The time they had spent apart had been more difficult than he wanted to admit to. But nothing would be the same now and he’d just have to find a way to get used to it. ❝You were sayin’ somethin’ bout a dame? You finally find someone to catch your eye?❞ Stewart pushed himself off the wall, looking around the corner to see if he could see the dame in question. He didn’t really know what Steve’s type would be or anything bot he’d tease regardless. The guilt returned when he thought about the letters again. ❝I’ll write ya this time, you big ooaf, don’t you worry.❞ He would have to make up for all the lost time. ❝Have you seen Buck? Someone else I miss teasin’ bout.❞

“I wasn’t worried.” He was a little bit, but he didn’t have to admit it. “i know you’ll write.” He also knew, even if he had been worried, that Stewart hadn’t meant to ignore his letters. Or at least, he was fairly sure of that. “I don’t know why you do. You know I can tease ya plenty about him too. But he’s...different. You know I helped get him out of a...a prison camp. He’s fine, but he’s not gonna be the same as we knew ‘im.”

Of course, the OTHER Steve ran off. He’d do the very same if he received information like this. Grumbling under his breath, he took off as well, ignoring everyone who told him to stop and think about this. What could they think about? His other self could get hurt and where would it leave both of them if he did? They were obviously linked to one another and if one of them fell into danger, would it harm the other one? It picked up his heartbeat, causing a wave of panic to flood through his mind. ❝Would you stop!❞ Steve demanded, reaching out to curl his fingers carefully around other Steve’s arm to make him stop trying to run. ❝You’re going to cause an asthma attack at this rate and don’t really need that.❞ Either an asthma attack of a panic attack, neither option being decent whatsoever. ❝Can you just - come back to my apartment. We can talk. I can show ya some stuff.❞ He’d deny forever the pleading tone slipping into his words. He didn’t plead or beg for anything - EVER.

Admittedly, he couldn’t have gotten much further anyway, though he would hate to admit it to anyone but himself. And even that had him grumbling. “Does anyone ever need an asthma attack?” He asked, echoing the other’s words and glaring up at him. He knew that he couldn’t fight this guy off. As much as he was starting to want to take a swing at him. But how counter productive would it be to try to fight himself? “I have to get back. Bucky...Bucky won’t know where I went. He’ll think I’m dead Steve.”

“Safe?” The word was foreign and unfamiliar but the previous comments were not. To be away from all these wandering eyes, to be encased in four walls with a distinct lack of windows was a comforting thought, but should he accept, would he be at Roger’s mercy? Would he be just swapping one form of abuse for another? After a moment’s hesitation, James found himself nodding quickly and wrapping his arms around himself in the same movement, regarding Roger’s through the curtain of his hair as before. No matter what he decided, James thought, he knew he couldn’t disappoint Roger’s yet again. He had his friend back and while James didn’t know how to be a person, nevermind someone’s friend, he wanted to try at least. 

But he had to take that risk. He needed to help the other, and he couldn’t do that in the museum. Steve stepped toward the entrance, his breathing quickening though he was still doing his best to keep calm. He would follow. He had to follow. Steve forced himself to settle and led the way out of the building, only stopping once he had left the museum behind before he let himself turn around.

It wasn’t his handlers. They should have come and they hadn’t. Protocol was to go back to the rendezvous point, but he wasn’t going to make it in this condition. Letting someone else get ahold of him was equally unacceptable though, and the Asset shuffled further away, still too weak to escape. He didn’t get far, whimpering at the way his movements jarred his already battered body. 

That thought came quick and then made him a little sick to his stomach. Still, he wasn’t sure exactly what he might do to help. The guy probably needed to stay calm. “Hey...hey don’t worry. I promise I won’t hurt you. I just want to help. You’re hurt. Let me take you to a hospital, or a shelter or something. Someplace safe.” He didn’t know if anything he said got through, but he had to try. “You can do whatever you want after that. Just...let me help you with that.”

Okay, starting over was good. If those words were right, the last thing Bucky wanted was to screw this up again. If not… well, he hoped he could leave his new acquaintance in a better mood than he found him, at least. He wasn’t sure if that was an invitation or not, so he waited patiently for Steve to get situation before he spoke up. “I’m Bucky. Mind if I sit?”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at this. This whole thing was ridiculous, but he was in it now. He might as well give some effort to this, now that it had been drawn out. “Steve. Yeah, go ahead and sit down.” He sighed, reaching for the coffee that would probably give him some stomach ache later.

He paused in his movement, considering the other and noting that he had really nice eyes, before he tried shaking that thought away again. “You wouldn’t be the first person to do that. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t like being the end of a joke, which feels like this is what it is coming from someone like you.” Someone who was clearly attractive, and had caught the attention of some people in the room. Steve wasn’t blind.

“Can I start over? I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t.” Bucky offered the young man a sheepish smile, stepping back from the chair. “That was rude. I’m sorry. You looked pretty busy and focused, so I thought maybe you wouldn’t even notice. If you don’t want company, I’ll just leave you to it.”

It was this largely that had him curious enough to finally sit down again. “Fine....I guess it couldn’t hurt. Haven’t finished my coffee anyway.” He muttered, setting his things back down. “Start over if you want. I’ll just finish up my sketch I guess.”

The best he could do was crawl away, into an alley, out of view of passers by. Every movement had him clenching his jaw on the urge to cry out, but it wouldn’t do to attract attention. He was a ghost. A severely injured ghost, but a ghost all the same. The Asset hid as best he could as the world went gray around the edges. He could feel himself drifting as he waited for extraction. Extraction never came. 

He worked late hours, and he found himself drifting back toward his awful apartment, having been unable to afford the apartment Bucky had shared with him. He made his way down the alley he took as a short cut, and froze as he caught sigh of a man who was clearly in pain. He didn’t really think, he just went straight toward him. “Hey, are you okay? Do you need some help?”

“Besides.” He smiled impishly. Military service had done nothing to dull Bucky’s charm or penchant for flirtation. He leaned a little closer, as if he meant to impart some great secret. “Best view in the house.”

Steve had been mocked plenty before, but this guy was good. He almost had Steve believing that…but no. No he wouldn’t want that. “Congratulations. You can have the damn table.”

“Wait! I wasn’t…” he got up, holding out a hand as if he were trying to stop oncoming traffic. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I wouldn’t. That’s just cruel.”

He paused in his movement, considering the other and noting that he had really nice eyes, before he tried shaking that thought away again. “You wouldn’t be the first person to do that. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t like being the end of a joke, which feels like this is what it is coming from someone like you.” Someone who was clearly attractive, and had caught the attention of some people in the room. Steve wasn’t blind.

“Besides.” He smiled impishly. Military service had done nothing to dull Bucky’s charm or penchant for flirtation. He leaned a little closer, as if he meant to impart some great secret. “Best view in the house.”

Steve had been mocked plenty before, but this guy was good. He almost had Steve believing that...but no. No he wouldn’t want that. “Congratulations. You can have the damn table.”