cold_shoulder | Sample scene flavor two for marvel

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Sample scene flavor two for marvel_universe

He was standing on the roof of the building.

He knew he should go downstairs and knock on Steve's door, the way a civilized person would. The way he should have a long time ago, when he first remembered. But he couldn't. Facing Steve with what he had done, in a place where they could actually talk? Knowing the look of disappointment that would inevitably cross the familiar blue eyes?

It wasn't any easier knowing that he wasn't Steve's partner, after all, not really. Nothing was easier.

But running hadn't really changed anything, had it?

He looked out over the street once more. In a moment, he'd go down.

In a moment.

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"C--" Steve starts, and his voice catches in his throat.

He breaks the embrace and looks the man in the eye. And again, he's struck by the dichotomy of someone being his best friend and a complete stranger at the same time.

"Come in," he manages. "Please."

"Thanks." He manages a sort-of smile to go with that.

Ah, there it was, in Steve's eyes. The longing and the awareness that he is a lie. And yet... not quite. He isn't lying, and he isn't going to.

He starts by taking off his gloves, stuffing them in the jacket's pocket, even as his eyes scope the place without even being fully aware of it. Too much habit.

And also too much habit being aware of Steve's body language. Which doesn't seem to have changed all THAT much since the war. He heads in the direction Steve was orienting himself before anything as explicit as a gesture.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything?"

"Nothing," Steve admits. Beyond wondering where you are, and what I can do to help you.

And then the questions pour out of his mouth before he can stop them. "Are you okay? Do you need help? Is there anything I can do?"

Bucky blinks. This isn't what he thought would be happening, although after the startled reaction passes, he realizes he isn't surprised and he shouldn't have been. This is Steve, after all, and thinking about his friends comes first. And foremost. And above everything.

His shoulders ease down slightly, all the same.

"I'm fine. I'm... I've gotten used to getting around, over time. I just... came to talk. Without anyone shooting at us or anything like that." Because it's easier to work together when there's danger to be handled. It feels right, and they each still know the ways the other moves. But that's different from sitting down and working through some of the stuff.

A very slight twitch tugs a corner of Bucky's mouth up. "Like we can start with whether it's okay for me to call you Steve. All things considered." Start with the basics. Work your way up towards more complex stuff. The rules for efficient training apply, right?

Steve smiles at him. "Please," he tells him. "If I can call you Bucky."

Or is that too much? Sure, he's got Bucky's memories... but also all the memories of the Winter Soldier. A different person.

But... if the Red Room had grabbed the real Bucky... would it have been any different?

"Unless you'd prefer something else," Steve adds a little lamely.

"Please," he echoes, and just for a moment, the acknowledgement brightens his eyes, and it takes an effort to moderate the eagerness, before it grew into hunger. "I wasn't sure if you wouldn't like to... differentiate."

His look turns slightly distant, and he shrugs. "I'm not sure what I prefer exactly. I remember the past both ways, and both ways fit in their places, but they don't fit together at all, so it seems neither is right. I'm just certain of one thing that I want." Attention turns back to Steve. "To set things right again, somehow. The downside to this plan being the definition of normal."

And yes, now that corner of his mouth is definitely turned up. Not an easy smile, no, but much of Bucky's self-deprecation definitely there.

Steve smiles at him -- an honest, open smile -- and he places his hands on Bucky's shoulders, looking him square in the eyes.

"You may not have been the man you remember being, Bucky... but you're choosing to be that man now. I can think of nothing more fitting."

It's like staring full-on into the sun, looking into that smile, into those eyes. Bright, and warm, and almost blinding.

It takes a moment to process the fact, but Bucky doesn't look away, even if his eyes widen slightly, and he swallows with throat suddenly dry at it.

"Do you... have any idea how hard it is to resist when you put your faith into somebody like that? I mean, it always was..." No, wait, this isn't what he is remembering... and, at the same time, it is. He is recalling it all too well.

Yet his own smile was slowly coming out in return, his hands coming up to clasp Steve's arms, above the shoulders, the left one carefully moderated to match the strength of the right one. "I don't really see all that many options, not now that I know everything." Not options he could live with, at any rate. But, even more importantly, "and it's what I want to be. Who I want to be. If I can manage it."

"You can," Steve tells him, with all the certainty that one might use to say that the sky is blue. "And I think Bucky himself would be honored." Steve raises an eyebrow. "Wouldn't he?"

The question hits more sharply than it was intended; his eyes just widen in reaction, though. He's spent a good part of the time since he learned pointing out to himself that he isn't the same person as the Bucky he remembers... And yet referring to Bucky as a separate person is chillingly different.

But he still doesn't look away, even as his gaze turns slightly inward to answer the question. "I think... I think he'd kick my ass if I didn't try, at any rate." He swallows, and adds, "I think he'd take the chance to get back to fighting the fight, the best as he can, and me being that chance... there'd be worse things he can imagine. Honored..."

Again, the lopsided smile. "I'm pretty sure honor being something given to him will take a bit to process. How about I get back to you on this one."

"Take your time," Steve replies. "But I know, through you, he keeps living... and through you, he has the opportunity to do more good. Because he -- and you -- will do whatever you can to stand up for what's right. It's why I've never been more honored to count someone as the best friend a man could ever have." He grasps Bucky on the shoulder tightly. "You're not a 'second place'. You're him in all that counts."

And Steve's honest as he says these words. He may never forgive himself for letting Bucky die -- but he's not going to let this Bucky beat himself up over not being "real".

The smarting in his eyes reminds him part of the reason why he run in the first place, back when he remembered. If there was one person who could reach through anything, it was Steve. The brother he had. Or his progenitor had. And there is so much that all he wants to do is hide form Steve. Because he is ashamed of it.

But... the last part gets a dry, quick laugh out of him. "Hey, half the time I wonder if I'm a real person and don't get around to wondering if I'm the real Bucky, if that helps?"

No, it doesn't. But hopefully it will be a little bit sidetracking.

It does, however, help him focus, and he straightens slightly, tightening his right hand around Steve's arm. "I'll try not to let you down again." Because his past... it isn't anything but letting them down. Steve and Bucky.

"Hey, if I ever start acting erratic and wrong or, you know, backsliding, you'll--" stop me "--let me know, right?" Not that he thinks Steve won't, really. But if the request comes from him, it'll weigh less on Steve. And he's carrying more than enough already.

"First of all," Steve replies, "you've never let me down. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Not once. And it's not even a question if you're a real person. You're just as real as you ever have been. But... so you know... if you ever start becoming someone you're not... I'll help you. Always."

"Thank you." Quiet, steady. At the reassurance. Which isn't quite what he asked for... and is, at the same time, very much what Steve would do, if it came to that.

But then, finally, Bucky looks down. "Nobody has to tell me, Steve. I know what I've done, and to how many. If it were just about anyone else..."

If it were almost anyone else, there wouldn't be reassurance. There would be working to neutralize him and put him behind bars. Not that any bars can make a difference to seeing their faces in his dreams.

"You were used," Steve spits. "As a weapon. Not as a human being. Not with the dignity every man and woman on this planet deserves. That wasn't you -- that was them. And the instant you had the chance to break free... you took it. That's not something everyone would do. That's not something everyone could do."

He shakes his head. "That's why I'm so proud to count you as a friend."

"I was created as that weapon," Bucky corrects, mildly, then he takes a deep breath, shaking his head. "Either way, I still did what I did. I was a very deadly weapon. And I taught others how to be such, too. There are things... few people aside from Karpov would be proud of."

It is plain truth. Soldier's assessment. Or, at least, Bucky assessment.

And he almost has to bite his tongue against the preference to change topic. Turn the conversation towards Steve. Or something else, anything else.

Instead, he goes on, straightening again. "Then I have something to work for. Keeping that up... your friendship. I only hoped to be given a chance to earn it in the first place as I was coming here, you know."

"You've got it," Steve replies. "Without question." He turns and shakes his head. "There's a lot to figure out still... but if you'll let me, I'll do whatever I can to help."

It's Bucky's turn to cross the distance between them to hug Steve. There has been... some ways, literally a lifetime since he has been close to anyone with this kind of faith in people, unreserved and unapologetic. And Bucky had no doubt whatsoever that Steve meant every single word, completely.

"I'd... almost forgotten." Well, he had forgotten (never known?), but that doesn't count. "Definitely a lot to figure out, but I won't shut you out. And I'm still around if any sidekick work needs doing." The reassurance doesn't take away the problems, but it does make them more manageable.

And even though it wasn't him, and he hadn't remembered, he's missed this steadiness, the presence, the friendship, his brother (or the brother of the guy who'd died decades ago) in his life.

"How are you doing anyway?"

Steve returns the hug, establishing as best he can without words that he would be there for Bucky.

When the hug breaks, he looks Bucky in the eyes.

"First of all -- I don't like 'sidekick'. Partner works for me... same as always." He gives his friend a playful punch on the shoulder.

"And as for how I'm doing..." He pauses. "I'm... okay. I've been leading the Avengers. I've tried a couple jobs to live a 'normal' life, but they never really worked out. My responsibilities always won out."

He's also confused as to where things stand with the women in his life right now, but he's sure that Bucky doesn't want to hear about that.

"Partner," Bucky nods, accepting the mild... not censure, but waving away the self-cynicism he'd been trying to establish.

He smiles, this time more easily, more openly. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me." Some things don't ever end. "You... we. We can do what most people can't. Turning away from what needs doing - that's never been you." And I won't even try.

"Avengers, huh? From what I know... it sounds a good team to be on."

"They're a good team. I'm honored to stand with them. Namor and Jim have been members in the past, too."

"Yeah?" Blinks, his barely showing grin turning into a frown. "... please don't tell me Jim's been on ice, too?"

He considers. Jim's had a... long and complicated run.

"Let's see... he sacrificed himself back in the 50s to save a city. But a villain named the Mad Thinker revived him and sent him against the Fantastic Four. He broke free and seemed to die again. A time-master named Immortus split him into two bodies, but we didn't find out about that until much later. The genocidal android Ultron changed one of those bodies into a being known as the Vision, who was sent against the Avengers, but he broke free of that control and joined us. His wife, the Scarlet Witch, later found the other Jim, unaltered, and revived him."

He looks at Bucky to gauge how well he's taking how insane some of this life in the modern era has been. "Too much? Should I slow down?"

Bucky's eyes cross for a moment. "Wow. No, I think I followed that. Man--" what kind of stuff one misses when asleep for a few decades...

Except it's too soon. The joke is at the tip of his tongue, but it still cuts, and if it cuts him, it'll probably be worse for Steve. One day. Not yet.

"He all right? ... and if she's married to Vision, why'd she bring Jim back, too? Not that I think it's a bad thing that Jim's alive and himself, not at all, but..." Shrugs. It does seem kind of weird, when he's missing the details.

"That's... a long and complicated story, involving Immortus. I can get you the full Avengers report later. I'll get you whatever Avengers files you want to look at."

In theory, that's a big risk. There are many people who would be angry at Steve for that. But his trust for Bucky is complete.

"Namor... spent several decades wandering the surface with amnesia. But he's still around. His cousin just revived, and her daughter's a hero, too."

There were other Invaders -- Miss America, Whizzer, Silver Scorpion -- but they came later. That just leaves one last one of the originals.

"Toro... retired a few years after the war. A few years back..." He pauses. "The Mad Thinker killed him. Namor was there."

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cold_shoulder - 2012-03-04 17:43 (UTC) - Expand

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