Red White and You

|14| Rusted •2

rust
/rəst/

ржавый
/rzhavyy/

—————

"I— I still can't believe it's really you, Steve," Bucky said, looking at me like I had risen from the dead. Well, that guess wouldn't have been too far off anyway.

"Yea... it's really me, Buck," I assured him. He needed a lot of that lately. Reassurance. To know that I was on his side. That there was absolutely no need to be afraid of me or Natasha or Clint or Bruce or Thor or even Tony.

Living in Stark Towers was nice, really. Don't get me wrong, living there was probably one of the best experiences of my life by far but I needed time away. I needed to escape to a small, cramped apartment in Brooklyn with my best pal, Bucky Barnes.

No, it wouldn't be easy. And I knew that before I left.

~*~

"Doing this on your own won't be easy, Steve. You gotta understand what you're dealing with here," Natasha had said.

"He's my friend, Nat, and more than that. I know him better than anyone else. Trust me, it'll be fine," I had replied.

"I know, I know. Just, promise me you'll be careful? He's changed and he's dangerous. I know you can't necessarily accept that yet but he has gone through a lot and you have got to be ready for anything he might say or do. Brainwashing someone is one thing. Undoing all the damage that has been done and bringing back what's already been long-lost is where the challenge lies."

"Nat, you gotta trust me. I promise I'll be careful. Okay?"

"Okay," she hugged me, then Bucky and I left.

~*~

Sure. She was right. But I can deal with it. Anything he throws at me, I've got under control.

How bad could it be?

• • •

"So... Steve..." he started, as we drove down the crowded city.

"Mmm?" I hummed, looking over at him.

"I don't really know where to start..." he paused, thinking. "I don't really remember, you know, everything. I'm not sure I ever will. Or even that I want to. But, right now, I know you're name. I know that I knew you... once. A long time ago—" he looked over at me. He seemed concerned or worried or.. I don't know, maybe lost. Longing for answers to the questions he's had for... years. But there was something missing; the story wasn't yet complete within his mind. "It hurts, Steve, not knowing. I know you, I'm sure I do. I'm just not sure how. Maybe you wer—"

"A friend, Buck."

"I suppose so..." he paused, looking deep into my soul. "I feel so... afraid. So lost. Like everything I've ever known is gone. That's probably because everything is gone, Steve. All these years later and we're the only ones left. Not only that, but I feel like I'm losing my mind. Like everything I'm thinking right now is just whirling around in my head and creating a storm in my brain. Fragments of things I should remember are getting lost in translation with obscure information. Every little movement I see or unexpected sound I hear my instant reaction it to retaliate. That chant in my head is pounding through my blood. Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. God, I wish it would all just go away!" His hands flew up to the sides of his head, clutching his hair and covering his tear ridden eyes. "My blood is boiling red, Steve, under my skin. My hands are covered in it, though it's not my own. I've done countless things that I'm not proud of... things I'm ashamed of, even. Things I can't even remember, nevermind think about. No, it wasn't my choice but the guilt still haunts me in my shadow... follows me, everywhere I go. Whispers to me that it's not worth the fight that you, Steve, shouldn't be doing all this for me because I'm just not worth it."