I'm Here | ✓

02 - Hallucinations

Steve's alarm went off at 7 that same morning. I had put the chair back and was sitting on the couch, but I hadn't slept a wink. I was still on edge. I heard him pad down the hallway and join me in the living room.

"Morning, Buck." He said, smiling. His hair was all ruffled and he tried to smooth it back with two fingers, but it just popped back up again. I smirked happily at it. It seemed he had forgotten all of the events from earlier this morning, for which I was thankful. He wandered over to the kitchen and pulled out a few utensils, yawning the whole way.

He turned to me, gesturing with a spatula. "Want some waffles?"

My world flipped upside down. Invisible hands, no, snakes, wrapped around my neck, strangling me. His messy blond hair turned sleek and trimmed, blue eyes turned angry, rumpled pajamas turned into a sharp suit and tie. He glared down at me, taunting. He gripped the carton in one hand, gun in the other, though in the darkness, I couldn't see which he would pick.

Want some milk?

My breathing quickened as I flashed between that scene and my place in Steve's apartment. Eyes turned gentle and then fierce, mocking, controlling again. My lungs tightened, my head hurt, the memories, they came on too fast, I couldn't, I can't -

"Bucky? Are you okay?" The words were fuzzy and distorted. Hands reached toward me but I couldn't focus on them, and not knowing who they belonged to, I flinched away. This was a trick. All a sick joke to get me to step out of line.

I don't even have a choice.

I screw my eyes shut, trying desperately to reorient myself. "Please don't do this." It feels wrong to speak, and I half expect someone to punch me in the jaw.

"Don't do what?" He sets the spatula down on the table and the noise is louder than it should be. I just stare at it, wondering when I became so fearful of the world.

I grit my teeth. "Don't ask me those kinds of questions!"

He stepped back, and I realized I was yelling. "Sorry," I whispered. I took a few shaky breaths, waiting until my vision returned to normal. Eventually, I choke out an explanation. "Pierce and the others, they'd mock my lack of freedom like I was some sort of animal. They'd ask questions I couldn't answer, knowing full well my programming didn't let me choose anything."

"Hey, shh, it's okay. You're here, you're safe now." Steve abandoned his utensils on the countertop and came over to sit by me. I leaned into him. He was warm and familiar. His head rested on top of mine and I clutched the edge of the table, watching my knuckles turn white, highlighting the scars that crisscrossed them. I took a steady breath and reassured myself that his presence wasn't malicious; he was here to help me.

Slowly, I sat up straight, breaking contact. "Can I have those waffles, please?"

"Right." Steve got up, and for a second, I wanted to pull him back.

I kept my hands folded in my lap.

We ate in silence. The waffles were actually pretty good. Steve used to be really bad at making any food, I remember, but I finished quickly. It was easier to think about the waffles than Pierce. Thoughts about Pierce led to Hydra, thoughts about Hydra led to torture, thoughts about torture led to -

I got up to put my plate in the sink.

Steve finished not long after me and retreated to his bedroom to go get changed. I was still in last night's clothes; a grey hoodie and jeans, the most inconspicuous outfit I could muster. I need to blend in for a few months, lie low until this all sorts itself out. Nobody is hunting for Steve. Tony is too afraid, the government is divided, and the military is reluctant to take down the legend they've looked up to since World War II. I don't have that kind of freedom yet.

And that is exactly why Steve decides to go to the gym.

I don't mean to be rude, but I let out a sigh of confusion. "The gym."

"Why not?" He pulls a metal bottle out from a cabinet and starts filling it with water from the sink, completely oblivious to the incredulous look I'm giving him.

"You can't be serious."

"What's so bad about going to the gym?"

"The serum takes care of all that, Steve. It keeps all your cells in peak condition, right? You'd look exactly the same as you do now without ever exercising at all."

He shrugs and caps the water bottle. "It's just habit, Bucky. I could always use work on my durability and flexibility..."

"Just go. Monologues aren't your thing."

He smiles and slings a duffel bag over his shoulder. "In case you're wondering, it's right down the block, southbound from here, on the corner. Can't miss it."

I roll my eyes, although I appreciate the information. "Bye, Steve."

"Bye, Buck." He shuts the door behind him, and the apartment goes silent.