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for loki and sylvie
Oct. 24th, 2023 01:58 pmThe first time that Bucky sees Steve, he drops his coffee.
That's a very unlikely thing for Bucky Barnes to do. He has the reflexes of a cat, after all. Even before the serum, before all the brainwashing and forced training, that was true. Even back when he was just the world's best sniper, second in command of the Howling Commandos, and Captain America's best friend.
It's that Steve that's standing on the street corner now-- the Steve he came to know during the war, after the serum had changed almost everything on the outside but left his heart unaltered. It's Steve staring at him with terror in his eyes, reaching out for him desperately.
This Steve is the last thing Bucky saw as he fell from that train and was presumed dead.
The coffee hits the ground and splashes against the cuffs of his jeans, and it's only the sudden and loud complaints from other people in line that makes Bucky tear his gaze away. He apologizes, gives the barista enough cash to cover the next few orders, and then looks back again, but Steve is gone. That's the first time.
It keeps happening and Bucky would think that he was finally going insane, but then Loki and Sylvie mention seeing things, too. Not Steve, though. They see Thor, each their own version, and Bucky takes in the information but doesn't share his own. He doesn't know why. It's not like he wants to hide anything from them. He just can't seem to find the words.
And then the phone calls start. The first time, Bucky hangs up before it gets too far. The next time, there's an eerie, oddly compelling voice telling him that he could fix things, that he could fix everything, if he only gets on a train at the end of the month.
"You could see Steve again," the voice promises. "You could see your sisters again. You could go back and never fall from that train. You could do everything over."
Bucky doesn't want to go back. He wants to be here, with Loki and Sylvie and his animals. This is where he wants to be, but the person keeps calling, and Steve keeps showing up looking so upset, so devastated, reaching out for him with his mouth open in a silent scream, and Bucky doesn't know anymore.
He's not sleeping, and he's having nightmares. These things aren't unusual for him, not really, but it's getting worse. He feels like a zombie, with dark circles under his eyes and skin gone pale, drinking too much coffee like that will help rather than make everything worse.
That day, he sees Steve three times and gets two more phone calls. He'll catch you this time, the voice says. He'll save you. Just get on the train.
Exhausted, he goes over to Loki and Sylvie's townhouse that night with Bopp in tow. He's quiet through dinner, and then goes upstairs to crawl into Loki's bed because it's the biggest and he wants them there. It's only when he's bracketed by them both that he falls asleep, but it's light and restless.
A few hours in, he has a nightmare. He's looking down at himself on an operating table, watching as they cut away skin and shove metal parts into his flesh, all the while speaking in Russian while Bucky screams and writhes. You won't have to go through any of it, that same voice says. Not if you get on the train.
"No," Bucky yells in his sleep, turning his sweat-drenched face into the pillow. "No, no, no."
That's a very unlikely thing for Bucky Barnes to do. He has the reflexes of a cat, after all. Even before the serum, before all the brainwashing and forced training, that was true. Even back when he was just the world's best sniper, second in command of the Howling Commandos, and Captain America's best friend.
It's that Steve that's standing on the street corner now-- the Steve he came to know during the war, after the serum had changed almost everything on the outside but left his heart unaltered. It's Steve staring at him with terror in his eyes, reaching out for him desperately.
This Steve is the last thing Bucky saw as he fell from that train and was presumed dead.
The coffee hits the ground and splashes against the cuffs of his jeans, and it's only the sudden and loud complaints from other people in line that makes Bucky tear his gaze away. He apologizes, gives the barista enough cash to cover the next few orders, and then looks back again, but Steve is gone. That's the first time.
It keeps happening and Bucky would think that he was finally going insane, but then Loki and Sylvie mention seeing things, too. Not Steve, though. They see Thor, each their own version, and Bucky takes in the information but doesn't share his own. He doesn't know why. It's not like he wants to hide anything from them. He just can't seem to find the words.
And then the phone calls start. The first time, Bucky hangs up before it gets too far. The next time, there's an eerie, oddly compelling voice telling him that he could fix things, that he could fix everything, if he only gets on a train at the end of the month.
"You could see Steve again," the voice promises. "You could see your sisters again. You could go back and never fall from that train. You could do everything over."
Bucky doesn't want to go back. He wants to be here, with Loki and Sylvie and his animals. This is where he wants to be, but the person keeps calling, and Steve keeps showing up looking so upset, so devastated, reaching out for him with his mouth open in a silent scream, and Bucky doesn't know anymore.
He's not sleeping, and he's having nightmares. These things aren't unusual for him, not really, but it's getting worse. He feels like a zombie, with dark circles under his eyes and skin gone pale, drinking too much coffee like that will help rather than make everything worse.
That day, he sees Steve three times and gets two more phone calls. He'll catch you this time, the voice says. He'll save you. Just get on the train.
Exhausted, he goes over to Loki and Sylvie's townhouse that night with Bopp in tow. He's quiet through dinner, and then goes upstairs to crawl into Loki's bed because it's the biggest and he wants them there. It's only when he's bracketed by them both that he falls asleep, but it's light and restless.
A few hours in, he has a nightmare. He's looking down at himself on an operating table, watching as they cut away skin and shove metal parts into his flesh, all the while speaking in Russian while Bucky screams and writhes. You won't have to go through any of it, that same voice says. Not if you get on the train.
"No," Bucky yells in his sleep, turning his sweat-drenched face into the pillow. "No, no, no."
