For FrozenAssets

[brooklyn_boy]

 The strange thing was that Steve had never really been alone before. The closest he got was in DC with the small apartment and the ghosts of the past he kept close to him at all times. But even then, he had the Avengers. He had constant contact with Tony and the rest of the team. Missions to keep him occupied so that the moments with just his record player and books felt like a break more than stifling isolation. But now, after all that had happened? 

Now he truly felt alone. 

Europe had the unique ability to move forward in time while preserving the past in small isolated bubbles. Steve slipped into England at nightfall and trusted his new beard and darker hair to stop instant recognition from getting him arrested. He was a fugitive, after all. The only place he was truly safe now was Wakanda and he'd fled from that protection as soon as he could. 

It wasn't ingratitude that had him running. It wasn't duty either although he used that as a convenient excuse. It was that ever since Bucky closed his eyes in the cryotube, Steve had felt an ache of loneliness open up inside of him and for the first time since waking up in the 21st century, he couldn't figure out how to handle it. 

The feeling was unfair to Nat and Sam. Both of them were around more than they weren't and were there for him in a way that was complicated and profound. They both had turned their back on so much to stand at his side. But Nat had her own missions to disappear on and Sam had a family he couldn't reach that tore him up inside. And Steve? The only family he'd ever known here was once more locked away. Close enough to touch and yet still inaccessible. Failed yet again by Steve who tried so hard to protect his best friend and came up short. 

Too slow to grab his hand. Too late to save his mind. Too weak to keep him safe. Forever destined, it seemed, to say goodbye and be left behind. 

To be alone. 

And so he ran. He ran back to one of those bubbles in time that England had. A bar made, destroyed, and then rebuilt on the same ground like a phoenix rising. The place where he and Bucky had drank a beer and started their journey into the war. Where Bucky had looked at a six-foot man brimming with muscles and had seen a little guy from Brooklyn where he'd always been. And where Steve had gone back to mourn that first time he'd lost Bucky two days before he died himself. 

Steve wasn't sure why he needed to be there. He just did. At this time of day it was closed and dark which fit his mood well enough. Nat had taught him how to get into such places unseen and when he did, the past pushed against him like a too-tight hug. It was comforting and suffocating all at the same time and the choked out sob bubbled up before he could stop it. He wanted to go <i>back</i>. Back to the war when things were so much simpler. Back to the days when he knew who he was and what role he had to play. Back when he had Bucky and wasn't so <i>alone</i>, even in a crowd. 

He walked to the counter and it was new and not when his hands fell on it. It looked the same as where he and Bucky sat. New wood made with old designs; the attempt to make things the way they'd always been and getting as close as you could while still falling short. His nails scratched against the wood as they curled into fists, body bowing over the spot like he were praying. Perhaps he was. For what though, he couldn't say. 

Steve's head lifted up and red eyes looked at the bar, desperate for a drink. There was a row of items there from the time the bar was destroyed. Trinkets and antiques left behind after the bombings and the bloodshed. Steve walked behind and let his fingertips brush over them, remembering when they had been new. Mugs. Buttons. Medals. And there, at the end, something different. Something brighter than the rest. Something old and new at the same time that called him back in a way he couldn't explain. 

Steve reached for it, unsure of what it was or why it seemed so important. But it did. And as his fingertips stroked over it, the burst of nostalgia that came over him was enough to bring him to his knees. Like he was touching the past. Bridging the gap. 

If only such a thing could be done...

Comments

[frozenassets]

[ooc; might be a bit tl;dr, will go to normal tag length on next round. I was thinking Bucky’s coin got tainted by whatever HYDRA research particles were in the air and responds to Steve’s matching set found in the bar]

Bucky practically lives for the raids that end with a HYDRA facility razed off the earth. There’s nothing like putting a bullet in one of ‘em and knowing you’d made the world just slightly better than when it started.

Sometimes, Bucky feels, it’s the only thing that keeps him going that week. That kinda thing would get the docs thinking twice about putting him on the front lines if they knew, so Bucky knows better. Keeps a lid on it. And hell, he doesn’t even want to know how Steve would feel about it if he found out. So Bucky keeps keeps his head down, ‘yes-sir and no-sir’s as needed and just asks where you need him to point and shoot.

But HYDRA R&D? Those’re the worst, Bucky thinks, as he slips out as soon as he can from the debrief and before they get sent to the docs and nurses to get checked out. Bucky’s also a real pro at that too.

Every time you think you’ve seen it all, the twisted bastards over at HYDRA R&D find new ways to give a guy the willies. Bucky can still feeling the crackling rush over his body when he’d entered that last room to find the scientists sprawled out, frothing at the mouth, on the floor like walking through a lightning storm. As it turns out…out sometimes the garbage could take itself to the curb, but even now, Bucky can still see the jars filled with twisted forms, the strange, twisted devices and the chemical stench to the air that gets the hairs rising all over his body.

Bucky makes his way through the sprawl of streets, finally allowing himself to rub the grit smeared against his forehead and smooth his hair back into something kinda respectable as he makes his way to a bar that’s becoming a second home. He’s been there so much that the bartender already starts to get his poison ready when he sees Bucky’s shape through the front windows, so when Bucky slips into a near empty bar with a tight smile, there’s a tumblr of their strongest whiskey ready for him.

Bucky takes a swig just so he doesn’t think too hard on the nice, dangerous heat that twists in his belly when the slender blond smiles at him. The guy looks like Steve - his Steve, before the War got him - in a carnival mirror, and it’s close enough that Bucky feels plenty guilty here. It’s just hard not to do something stupid - something blue ticket worthy - after today. The pretty fella leaves him to it, and Bucky’s hunched over the bar as he tries to drink the world away.

On days like this, Bucky’s hand dips into his jacket to the penny nearly worn free of its face, thumb rubbing over it. It’s stupid, really, but Bucky had saved them when they were shiny and new, and given Steve a matching one. Something to remember when they made it big, you know? Remember where they came from? Bucky’d maybe be a teacher or an actor or something, and Steve’d be an artist big enough to knock ole’ Norman on his ass. It’s stupid; it’s from a world before this FUBARed mess, but Bucky finds himself coming back to it.

Bucky closes his eyes as he feels the familiar, faded ridges, even as this uneasiness sneaks into him and slowly, sneakily blossoms into an emptiness that the booze isn’t helping with. Somehow…somehow it’s gotta do with Steve, and his body knows before he does that Steve needs help. Needs him

He opens his eyes…and freezes. ‘Cause this is the same bar, except it’s not really; it’s dark here, and that pretty bartender isn’t there anymore. There’s a guy behind the bar built like a brick house, with hair that’s too long and a face cast in shadow, and when Bucky glances around, it’s to find the rest of the bar closed and looking too clean like it wasn’t nearly shelled a couple times.

“The hell?!” Bucky blurts out, hand drifting towards the knife hidden under his shirt, as he glances around.