[COMPLETE/EDITING]Be My Hero

One

I sighed and stared at the dull gray floor below me. My artificial arm hurt with a stinging pain where it connected to the shoulder. I could feel my blood rushing through my ears, pounding in my temples.

Calm.

"James?" a voice asked tentatively. I loved when he called me that. It made me feel like a human being. That was the thing. When you were Steve's sidekick, he treated you like a human.

"Bucky?" I knew that voice from long ago, one that told me that I would never be alone. I looked up, eyes landing on such a familiar yet alien form. Steve Rogers, the government man. I had been taught that he was my enemy, that I needed to destroy him. My heart throbbed painfully.

Was.

"You okay?" he asked, offering a small, uncertain smile. I returned it half-heartedly. "Yeah. I'm fine," I replied. I looked Steve up and down, licking my suddenly dry lips. He wore a skin-tight shirt, muscles rippling visibly every time he moved. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black sweatpants, brows rising as if to say, "I don't believe you."

Truth was, it felt odd to be by his side again as an ally. I walked over to him, and I couldn't help but sigh contentedly. He smelled of sandalwood and gunmetal. "We can go home soon," he said, looking at me with an endearment I found breath-taking. We lived in London as of right now, as we both wanted a change of scenery, and I couldn't wait to get back to the States. "Good. You look pretty beat up," I said jokingly. His lip was busted and he had a cut on his eyebrow. He laughed and shrugged, looking down at the floor momentarily. I loved when he would come back from some mission in a state that was far too familiar. His hair would always be windswept, his cheeks blistered with the icy winds. Seeing him without a uniform or a shield at his back was a bit strange.

"Yeah, you kind of gave me a beating," Steve inquired, sucking me back into reality. I did, but he'd healed considerably quickly as to be expected. "Sorry," I mumbled, scratching the back of my head.

Steve turned on the ball of his heel with another shrug and headed down the hallway. I followed after him with long strides. By his expression, I knew something was wrong. I stayed silent. If anyone knew Steve, it was me. Silence killed him, and I knew he would break down eventually. Just as he walked into his room and pulled forth his uniform, I could see his walls breaking. "Hydra," Steve finally said, stripping off his clinging shirt and throwing it aside. I could see bruises on his back, the imprint of knuckles livid against his stark skin. Guilt rolled through my stomach. "What about Hydra?" I asked, perhaps a little too harshly. I hated thinking about the past, and I honestly didn't want to talk about it. I slowly turned away as Steve peeled away his sweats.
"We both know that he's going to try and come after you," he answered after a moment of silence. When I looked at him again, he was zipping up his uniform. He picked up his shield and waved it over his back. It attached quickly with a metallic click. He reminded me of a very patriotic turtle. "Yes, of course he is. He'll try to track me down. But that doesn't mean he'll get me," I retorted. I heard Steve's laugh, and he turned to face me. For but a split second, he was vulnerable, was the kid I knew before the serum. Then his walls went back up.
"We can't tell for sure. But go on, suit up. We can't be unarmed out in the open. I want to leave as soon as possible." He looked at me pointedly, yet there was a tenderness to his eyes, reserved only for me. I stared at him, lips pursed. I hated putting on my suit. I would rather sit around and do nothing, but that was obviously not an option.
"Go on," Steve said with a laugh, closing the distance between us and placing a hand on the back of my neck. "We'll go home and everything will be normal again."

I nodded and trudged out of the room. I could see why Steve would be wary of Hydra, but I wasn't going to leave him alone. We both needed each other. Perhaps I needed him more than he needed me.

I pushed into my room and looked at my suit hanging on the wall. It still had small rips, but the blood was gone. I undressed and got into the uniform in a quick fashion I learned over time due to constant drills and an assortment of emergencies. I plucked a cigarette from its box on the nightstand and lit it. I walked out of the room, taking a drag from the cigarette and expelling the smoke through my nostrils. I saw Steve at the end of the hallway, leaning in the doorway, thick arms folded over his chest.

God damn.

Another drag. I approached Steve and began to climb up the ladder to exit the bunker. "Come on, pup," I mumbled. I heard him chuckle, then follow. With the cigarette stuck between my lips, I pushed open the heavy iron doors to the bunker. Sunlight stung my eyes and warmed my skin immediately.

100 days until the accident