I'm Here | ✓

07 - Found

I glanced back at the store as we walked out. "That's probably not legal, Steve. You can't just bribe someone into deleting company footage like that."

"You must be forgetting the time I went against 117 nations around the world to make sure you were safe."

I grinned. "Yeah, I guess that trumps the bribery thing."

We jumped in the car and Steve fiddled with a little flip phone. I had no idea how to use it, but he tapped buttons with ease. I watched him, fascinated, and he held it up to his ear. I stayed quiet as someone on the other end picked up.

"Hello? Hi, Nat, it's Steve." Nat? Who's Nat? Can we trust her? "Listen, you've seen the news right?" Oh no. That means everybody's seen it by now. "You know me so well. We just need a place for him to lay low for a few days. Can we borrow one of your safe houses out in Jersey?" Who is he talking about? Who just has 'safe houses' available for use? "Yeah, thanks. It won't be for too long, just until this all rolls over." He laughs. "No, that's not forties slang, leave me alone. Would you mind meeting us there?" This is a setup. It's a trap, an ambush. "I really appreciate it. I'll see you in a few hours." He hangs up, and I glance at him.

"Who was that?"

"Natasha. She's a coworker of mine, the redhead who defended you and I against the Black Panther at the airport in Germany."

"Oh. I was wondering who she was." I thought back to the fight. "Wait, wasn't she on Stark's team to start?"

"Yeah, but she's true to her heart, as cheesy as that sounds. Tony, his ego, his recklessness... she knows he's a danger to himself and everyone around him. That's why she's with us."

"That doesn't sound like she's with us. She sounds like a double agent, working both sides."

"I trust her with my life. Natasha can get close to Tony if she needs to and report back to us. She's safe."

"Or she could be working us to report back to Stark."

Steve chuckled. "I know you're nervous. But trust me, when you meet her, you'll know she's with us."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see."

We started driving in awkward silence until Steve pulled onto the highway. The lines painted on the road raced past us, and soon we started driving through a relatively scenic forest. The humming of the tires was soothing, in a way, and I tilted my head against the back of the seat. Just thinking.

"Steve?"

"Mm?"

"Are you afraid of me?"

"Of course not. You're my best friend, Buck."

"I was your best friend. Now I'm..." I glanced at my metal hand. "Different. Unstable. Dangerous. Why you trust me at all, with my past and what I've done, is beyond me."

"I'm not afraid of you. Right here, this is you. This is who I'm best friends with, who I would die for. What Hydra did to you, it's not your fault."

"But I did it."

"It wasn't you, is what I'm saying. I'm not afraid of you losing control, or of your metal arm, or of what you used to be. I'm afraid of very few things, Bucky, losing you being one of them."

What do I say to that?

He's afraid of losing you.

He actually cares.

I swallow a choke in my throat.

He flicks on his yield lights and swerves to the side of the abandoned road. Unclipping his seatbelt, he turns to me and I find myself staring into his bright blue eyes. He sets his hand on my knee, and this time, I don't flinch away. "Bucky, not going after you on that train has always been my biggest regret." His voice is shaky and his eyes start to get watery. "And then I thought you were dead for 70 years while you were tortured and abused and without even going to look for you. And then every time I got you back... I just lost you again." He wiped his eyes with the back of his fist. "So, I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry. I'm sorry for failing you every single time, and I'm not going to let it happen again."

I just stared at him, my head swirling with emotions and memories and thoughts.

"You didn't lose me. I'm still here." I whisper.

"Stay..." Steve choked out.

I reach out with one hand and pull him closer to me, unbuckling my seatbelt with my other. He falls into me, already sobbing, and I hold his head carefully against my chest.

"Hey. Shhh. I'm here, Stevie, I got you." I ran my fingers through his hair and rubbed his back as he shuddered in my lap. "I'm right here, it's okay, shhh." I looked down at him, so small and helpless and young. How he could lose his parents at this age, I have no idea. He was the kindest person I knew, and the world tortured him again and again and again and this time, I was worried he was starting to give up.

I pulled him closer and he grabbed at my shirt. I didn't mind. I just kept holding him for hours, watching the sun go down between the crack in the curtains. He cried until he couldn't anymore, and then he was just sitting, breathing hard, holding on to me. I was glad he could trust me, and I didn't let him go until he fell asleep against me. I curled my arms under his small figure and plucked him off the couch, carrying him to my room. I set him carefully on the bed and tucked the blankets around him. I swept the hair out of his face and smiled down at him, just a little, before lying next to the bed on the floor and falling asleep myself.

I didn't let go.

I shushed him carefully, even though it felt unnatural. America's prized super soldier, crying in the arms of a tortured Russian assassin. What a weird world. His cries slowly ebbed into little sniffs and shakiness, but he didn't let go, so neither did I. This feels so wrong, but I did it in the past, I suppose. A little comfort is all he needs right now. I'm the one person he can't lose.