Archive of Our Own ^beta

“look, i just want one thing.”

“mr. barnes, you're allowed all you want from your own storage. but i can't let you access mr. rogers’ storage without—”

“what, his word? pretty sure he can't give you that.”

the receptionist gulped. “without mr. walker’s consent.”

bucky’s face went unbelievably hot. “ what ?”

“well, the belongings are under the captain america mantle.”

“yeah, okay, how about sam? he had the shield, first.”

“he wasn't—”

“what's the problem?”

bucky’s eyes roll so far back he swears he unlocks new memories. the voice alone makes his jaw set.

“mr. walker, welcome back,” the receptionist greets, her voice suddenly shrill with joy. “mr. barnes was asking about captain rogers’ storage unit, but don't worry, i told him—”

“that he has full access?” john interrupts. “at least, i hope that's what you told him.”

bucky blinks at him, staring at his ridiculously squared face and smug eyes.

“ oh , uh— i—”

“yeah, go ahead and give him the spare unit key. it's his, as far as i'm concerned.”

“forwarding payments, too?” bucky bites.

“no, taxes pay for that.”

bucky stares at the key as its set before him. he snatches it up before john can even give him a look.

“what are you trying to get?” he asks, non accusatory, but bucky still spits at him to mind his own business.

“look, i'm just trying to be helpful. i'll show you to the unit, help you find whatever it is—”

“i open that door, and i want you gone.”

“bucky.”

“don't call me that,” he says, stalking away down the hall.

“first elevator on the left, and also,” john tells him, speed walking to keep up, “i've told you before, i'm not trying to be him. i'm not trying to replace anyone or anything— i don't even want them to call me captain america, i just want—”

“the shield, the payroll, the groupies, the fame,” bucky lists, counting on his vibranium fingers, “what else am i missing?”

“i want the responsibility. ”

“nobody wants responsibility,” bucky scoffs, absently slapping the button to beckon the elevator. “you want the respect ? fine, great. just don't lie about it.”

“i'm being honest, buck. what's it gonna take for you to believe me?”

bucky pretends to think. on cue, the elevator dings and the doors slide open. “return the shield. that'll work.”

“i can't do that.”

bucky silently begs god to keep john from stepping into the elevator with him. it doesn't work.

“if i pass it off to you, they'll mark it stolen. then you're a criminal again.”

again. bucky blinks. “ they ?”

“s.w.o.r.d., they're basically the new s.h.i.e.l.d.”

s.h.i.e.l.d., bucky thinks, great. because that worked out so well, before.

“and it's not as easy as—”

“you don't wanna give it up,” bucky says matter-of-factly. “i get it. i wouldn't, either. granted, that's an entirely different reality.”

“i know what it means to you.”

“no, you don't,” bucky tells him, exiting the elevator once it reaches the designated floor.

“okay, maybe i don't. but i have a good idea of what it meant to him. and i know what it means to the people who watched him carry it, because i was one of them.”

bucky spins on his heel, jamming a finger into john’s chest. “you still are. just because you're in a cheap costume and you're holding a fucking artifact doesn't mean you're any better than those men you served with. you're not on a fucking pedestal, walker, that's the entire point of holding that shield. you're just giving me more and more proof that you don't deserve it.”

john blinks, swallows hard. bucky turns back around and keeps walking.

“unit c-24,” john tells him. “there's a keypad, too.”

“a lock and a keypad,” bucky mutters. “everybody wants a piece of captain america.”

“code is 03-10-17.”

bucky stops before his hand even touches the pad.

“what?”

“... what?”

“the code. tell me again.”

“03-10-17,” john repeats, slower this time.

bucky gazes down at the lock system. “did, uh, did steve set the code?”

“yeah, according to the directors here, it was after he came back. 2012, or so.”

bucky swallows thickly, ignoring the sting at the back of his throat. “okay.”

he enters the numbers quickly, and shoves the key in the lock. the door creaks open, and he switches the light on.

there's a layer of dust resting on top of everything, which is a clear indicator the directors of the museum and john have left the place thankfully alone.

“they, uh, gave me a general idea of where everything is. i might not be much help, but i'd love—”

“you never are,” bucky says bluntly. “you can go, now.”

insistently, he plants his feet.

bucky sighs and enters the room alone. there's sheets covering some historic furniture from the old house, which bucky is surprised to see. a wooden shelf holds boxes of knickknacks, papers, old christmas ornaments and pictures.

disrupting a large pile of dust, bucky determinedly yanks forward a box labeled papers&books. he digs around for a moment, before his vibranium fingers brush against the old leather cover of steve’s journal.

he pulls it out, and stares in astonishment at the dusty leather. he turned this over? the smithsonian could have displayed this, for all he knew. anyone could have seen it—

and then he thinks, that's the point. anyone with access could see it. and realistically, that would've been only him or sam. he left the journal for bucky to find, because he knew sam wouldn't want to intrude.

“i do know, though,” and then john speaks, ruining the moment as usual, “where he put the compass.”

“the compass?” bucky repeats. “wait, how do you—”

“director of his display was really excited about it. he carried it with him everywhere, so—”

“yeah, i don't need that.”

bucky knew it'd serve him no purpose. a constant reminder that all steve could ever bother to remember was peggy carter, a girl he hardly knew for two weeks. the girl he left bucky for. forever.

“hey, i know what you're thinking,” john says, hollow as ever, “but seriously… he left that for you to take.”

“how do you know?”

“said it himself to the director, who told me.”

bucky drops his arms at his sides, still gripping the journal. he sighs deeply, resigned to just shutting john up for once. “okay, fine. where is it?”

john stops himself at the doorway, and nods to another shelf at the opposite end of the room. bucky drags his feet over, and the compass is the only thing there. there's a finer layer of dust on it compared to the piles on everything else, he notes, and his heart turns. such a fresh wound, even still.

he snatches it up and shoves it into the inner pocket of his jacket. “alright, thanks.”

“was that all you wanted?”

a genuine question, but everything feels accusatory and condescending in his tone, bucky thinks. “yep.”

he shoves past john, through the door and into the hall.

“where to, buck?”

“home. don't call me that, and stop following me.”

—

bucky heaves a sigh and flips through the pages. endless amounts of sketches, accompanied by steve’s damn near perfect handwriting. studies mostly, of faces. he recognizes natasha by her smirk, sam by his bright eyes, and tony by his annoyed but tired expressions. steve loved to draw, capture moments, and he had more than enough time to practice when he was stuck at home with the flu every turn of the season. whenever he wasn't eating what sarah could scrape up or sleeping the illness away, he was drawing.

the sketches are side-by-side with random, scrawled out entries. descriptions of his day, what new things he tried, and sometimes how he was feeling.

pages had been torn out. bucky absently wondered what was on them, until he found them stuffed in a built-in pocket at the back.

steve never kept secrets.

bucky pulled the pages out of the pocket and examined them.

—

bucky,

i don't know if you'll ever get this. i don't know if i'll ever even see you again. i saw you, today, on the bridge. i didn't believe it at first, because it had been so long. i watched you fall. i didn't think about anything else for days, just how i failed. i can't fail again, buck. millions of lives depend on our victory against hydra, and yet i can't seem to find myself willing to risk yours for theirs. i shouldn't have to trade lives. this isn't right, this is exactly what hydra wants. they're counting on me to fail. but i promise, bucky, i'm gonna save those people, and i'm gonna save you too. i don't care what it takes, even if it's the last thing i ever do. i'm gonna get you back, bucky. i promise.

(2014)

bucky,

you pulled me from the potomac. i don't remember much else, but i know you saved me. where did you go? i'm gonna bring you back, i promise. i'm gonna make sure they never hurt you again, that nobody ever does. i'm gonna help you get better. i'm gonna do everything i can for you, just like you did for me. i promise you, buck, i promise. whatever it takes.

(2015)

bucky,

i'm gonna ask princess shuri to pass this to you next time you wake up. they’re saying the progress you've made is astounding, and you're almost recovered. of course, matters of the mind never fully go away, but with all that new tech they've got, maybe you can be happy again. things can go back to how they were, just you and me. till the end of the line, right? i mean, it'll never be the same. the world has changed, and i can only hope you catch on a lot faster than i did. i still hardly know how emails work, but apparently it's like mail they send through the internet. which is an even crazier thing in and of itself, by the way, but i'm getting off topic. and no, i'm not gonna erase that, because you need to be ready for this, i mean seriously, it's crazy. i just wanted to let you know, the door is always open when you're ready to come back. i promise i'm always here for you, bucky.

(2017)

bucky,

it's been awhile. since wakanda, since thanos, since i last saw you. i promised myself i'd never let you get lost again, but now i don't even know if you're alive or just adrift in the universe. thanos won. we lost. i've never known a loss this great, not like peggy, not like sokovia, not like the accords. my own pain can't measure up to everyone else's, i'm sure, but it feels like i've truly lost everything. tony hasn't been in contact for awhile now, nat has distanced herself so far i'm worried i'll lose her too. i've got no clue where bruce is— that's the big green hulk guy, by the way. i don't know if you ever met him... or clint, but from what i've heard, i don't think he wants to be found. anyways, we've only scratched the surface with our sweep of missing persons. there's a line, between who's simply missing and who's been lost. kids running away, the homeless population has shot up, and of course we're still fighting overseas. some things never change, not even in the face of universal devastation, i guess. i'm trying to look on the bright side, but it's hard to be there for yourself when you're there for everyone else. if you come back… promise me to be there for yourself first. just promise me that much, buck.

(2022)

bucky,

i don't know what i did. i'm out of time. i'm sorry.

(1950)

bucky,

i've made so many mistakes, but the biggest one is sitting right in front of me. you're sound asleep in that damn chair, under the illusion that i've lived a better life this time around. that's what i keep telling everyone. that's what i keep telling you, because i can't stand to have you mourning my life when you haven't even experienced yours yet. i know you're angry. i know why. i wish i could change things, really, i do. but the captain america has to let people believe he's perfect, never made any mistakes, always lived happily. that he's had his happily ever after. it wasn't peggy, by the way. i know you and sam think it was her, but i'd never ruin what she and daniel had. she lived her life, and i lived mine the best i could. the ring doesn't mean anything, not like that. just serves a reminder, i suppose, to what i had. i've idled this part of my life away. promise me you won't do the same, buck. and please try to forgive me. i really did want to be there till the end of the line.

(2024)

bucky,

i never told you after i woke up. after you came back. that's my biggest regret, actually. do you remember, after church when we were still in highschool, you told me you went to one of those protests? you said it so quietly because you were afraid mom would hear. i told you i was proud of you, and that i wanted to be like you. and you told me to be even better. bucky, no matter what you've done, i could never have been a better man than you. but you helped me stay a good one. you stayed over that night, and i asked you what it was like to be in the midst of all that. you said it felt like freedom. i took the biggest risk of my life that night, and you never once made me feel ashamed of it. i'm sorry i never found a way to thank you. but i always did love you, buck. i can't even blame the way things were, i was just scared. i'm sorry i never let you know. that i never told you the truth. i loved you, bucky. i promise i always did. nothing ever changed.

(2024)

—

bucky studied the words, the way every single letter was written, the way the writing changed as the years went on. on every page, there was a study, and he was the muse. he could recognize his eyes— the old eyes, happy and bright and expressive— and his hands, his own side profile from every time steve had seen him. he recognized the dog tags, steve's and his own, that hung from the chain around his own neck. that was the last one steve had ever drawn, he assumes.

but aside from all of that, a collection of sketches studying his vibranium arm. none of them had the same aura the piece of metal itself had carried, no. steve drew it attached to bucky as he held onto flowers, caught butterflies on his fingers, outstretched a helping hand. that's how steve always saw him, bucky realizes. not a weapon, not an asset, just bucky. soft and gentle like he used to be, genuine and kind.

he placed the pages back in the pocket of the journal and closed it gently, sliding it across the table away from himself. he couldn’t understand how he was feeling. if he was going to cry or have an outburst of some kind, he didn’t want to damage the book.

crossing his arms across his chest to ground himself, bucky felt something in his jacket. he reached into the inner pocket and found the compass he had reluctantly taken before. he breathed in deeply, and clicked it open.

the pointer inside was broken, the glass was cracked. the compass was never around to be of use, really. he held his breath, waiting to be met by the old photo of peggy, waiting to be reminded.

he was staring at himself. black and white, clean-shaven with slicked back hair and a grin across his face. he hardly recognized this man, but he knew it was himself. he knew because steve has obviously cut himself out of the photo to fit it inside the compass. the lanky arm trying to wrap around bucky’s shoulders was a dead giveaway, and if he couldn't remember himself then he could always remember steve. he could remember the man steve wanted him to be.

he closed the compass, reaching forward and setting it on top of the notebook.

moments, or maybe hours had passed. bucky didn’t know, and dr. raynor says loss of time happens with depression.

depression. bucky scoffed out loud. i’m not depressed.

it's just the ptsd. maybe that's it.

he blinked away tears he didn't even know were forming. he took his phone out of his pocket, and found sam’s dozen unread texts. his fingers hovered over the digital keypad, like he was waiting on himself to say something.

— i'm ready to do that talking thing raynor is always bugging me about.

— it's a step up from staring.

— come over.

— ask nicely.

— fine, don't.

— okay, okay. damn. give me 20.

— door’s unlocked.

— oh hell no. i'm knocking. i'm not about to walk into that part of town without knocking.

— less texting, more driving.

— :p

bucky set his phone down on the table. his eyes landed on the compass and the notebook again. he decided to put them away before sam arrived.

– fin