Taken. (A Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes story)

Chapter 3

On week later

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"Bucky, wake up, breakfast is ready." This is what Bucky was waking up to now. Steve would make breakfast and then take Bucky down to the gym in the basement to get him back in shape. They would do their morning work out and then go back up to the apartment. Steve would cook a big lunch while Bucky would read or sit quietly. After lunch, they would sit and talk. Later, Bucky would try to help Steve cook dinner and after that, Bucky and Steve would go through pictures and drawings, trying to remember his past. He needed a routine. He needed these simple, mundane things to keep him sane.

A few days after moving in with Steve, Bucky found a box of old drawings. Some had hard, sharp lines that mapped out the images with pointed corners and straight lines. Most of them however, were drawn with smooth, curved, and precise lines. Bucky found a yellowed piece of paper where Steve's face had been drawn out in the same straight lines and pointed corners while looking through the old pictures and sketches.

"Who drew this?" Bucky asked as Steve came around the corner from the kitchen.

"You did, Buck." Steve replied with a small smile on his face. The memory of that day flashed through Bucky's head.

"Hold still! I have to get this perfect." Bucky said. His tongue stuck out of his mouth as he focused back on the drawing pad.

"But the stool is hurting my butt!" Steve complained like a five year old child.

"Get over it you punk!" Bucky teased with a playful smirk on his face.

"You get over it, jerk." Steve mumbled back. He'd never been good at comebacks. Bucky smiled triumphantly. Steve wiggled one more time, huffed, and then sat still like he was told.

The same searing pain shot through Bucky's temples as the memory faded. The edges of his vision went black and his stomach lurched. He blindly stumbled to the bathroom and heaved into the toilet.

"Bucky! What's wrong, are you okay!?" Steve shrieked in surprise. He chased after Bucky and pulled the loose hair out of his face. Steve stood behind Bucky, holding his hair and rubbing his back as he retched into the toilet.

"I'm sorry." Bucky said as he sat back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and catching his breath. "I didn't want you to see that."

"It's okay, Bucky, that's what I'm here for." Steve said a small smile playing on his lips. He reached over and flushed the toilet. Bucky watched the vomit swirl around in the water and race down the pipe. Steve left the bathroom and came back a minute later with a glass of cold water and two aspirin.

"Here, take these, it'll make you feel better." Bucky looked skeptically at the pills, unsure of them. "It's okay, Bucky. They're not going to hurt you. I promise."

Bucky looked up at Steve nervously. Steve smiled down at Bucky, silently urging him to take the medication. Bucky looked at the pills in the palm of Steve's hand, finally taking them and the glass of water. He tossed the pills into his mouth and gulped down the drink. He stood up, looked at Steve and then back down, slightly embarrassed by the events that had just taken place.

"Do you mind if I take a shower?" Bucky asked, continuing to look down at his feet.

"Of course, Buck. Hang on and I'll get you some spare clothes. All the clothes you had with you are dirty." Steve said, turning around and going to his closet looking for clothes his friend could borrow while the stolen ones were in the wash.

"Thank you, Steve." Bucky said, looking gratefully at his friend when he returned with fresh clothes.

"Sure thing, Bucky." Steve smiled at him and left the bathroom.

As the door closed behind him, Bucky stripped of the dirty clothes and turned on the shower. As he waited for the water to heat up he turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He had gained a few pounds since moving in with Steve but he wasn't back to normal, he was still making progress though. The work outs every morning was keeping him in shape, and the hefty breakfasts, lunches, and dinners full of calories, carbohydrates, fats, and proteins that Steve cooked for them everyday was getting his weight back on him.

He stared at his naked body, disliking what he saw. He'd lost over half of his muscle mass during his four months on the run. Where there used to be chiseled muscle was now nothing but tight skin and the sharp outlines of bone. He turned away from the mirror and stepped into the hot water. He grabbed Steve's shampoo and squeezed a glob into the palm of his hand. Bucky massaged the soap into his hair and scalp, using his nails to scrub the dirt and grease away. He rinsed out the shampoo and reached for the conditioner, doing the same thing he did with the shampoo, next he grabbed the body wash and the spare loofah Steve gave him. He scrubbed until he turned pink, wanting to wash away the imperfections on his body.

He turned the water off and stepped out onto the bathmat. He reached over, grabbed his towel hanging on the rack and wrapped it around his waist. He went back to the mirror and wiped off the condensation. He grabbed his toothbrush, another spare Steve gave him, and brushed the taste of vomit off his teeth. Bucky looked in the mirror one last time, grimacing at his reflection that he was less than pleased with, and left to get dressed. He crossed the hall into Steve's room so the steam could dissipate from the bathroom. He rubbed himself dry and pulled on the clothes Steve had given him, sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt.

"Hey Steve, do you think we could go shopping tomorrow and get me some clothes that actually fit? I don't need many, just enough to last me until I get all my muscle and weight back." Bucky asked as he walked back into the living room where Steve was sitting.

"Yeah, of course. What do you want?" Steve asked looking away from the T.V. and looking at Bucky.

"Just some jeans, track pants, and shirts." Bucky said sitting down next to Steve on the sofa.

"Yeah, we can do that." Steve turned his attention back to the T.V. where a rerun of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. was playing. Bucky picked up his feet and curled them up on the cushion. They sat like that for a few hours, watching T.V. and talking. Steve would tell Bucky stories of his adventures with the other Avengers and Bucky would recount what happened to him after he woke up in the HYDRA facility. Steve insisted that it was okay, that Bucky didn't have to tell him. But he wanted to, he had to.

"No I want to." Was all Bucky would say when Steve told him that. It took several hours for Bucky to recount all of his memories and several break downs where Steve would scoot over and hold Bucky, rocking him back and forth. They would sit like that for minutes at a time, Steve holding Bucky, soothing him as best he could, and Bucky hiccuping his way through the story.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky. If I hadn't let you fall, none of that would have happened. We could have moved in together and been happy, you could have gotten married and had kids. I'm so sorry I took that away from you." Steve said, tears streaming down his face. Know it was Steve's turn to be coddled. Bucky wasn't sure what to do so he copied Steve's actions and wrapped his arms around him.

"It's not your fault Steve, there's nothing you could have done to stop that." Out of the many memories Bucky had lost, he managed to get a few of them back. Of the few was what happened on the train that day, which he had been unfortunate enough to remember. That was the one with the worst repercussions, he was laid up for hours, switching between heaving into the toilet and lying on the sofa, his eyes and ears covered to block out the light and sound of the world outside.

"It is, and I'm sorry Bucky. I wish I could make it up to you." Steve chocked out around his sobs. Bucky pulled away and held Steve at arms length.

"You have made it up to me, Steve. You've let me take up your space and eat your food and wear your clothes. You're the reason I ran away from HYDRA. You're the reason I didn't go back. You've made it up to me ten times over." Bucky said looking Steve in his puffy, red eyes. "I promise."

All this did was make Steve cry harder. He didn't think he deserved a friend like Bucky, even if he wasn't the same one from Brooklyn, the same one he grew up with in the twenties and thirties, he was still his, and he loved him.

"Thank you, Bucky." Steve said. Looking his old friend in the face.

"You're welcome, Steve."