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(no subject)

Character: James "Bucky" Barnes &
Time period: Post-CA: TWS
Warnings: Obsessive Bucky on the loose.

At first, independence had seemed like one of his better ideas, but he had begun to revise his opinion once he had verified certain truths, taken noted of the factions searching for him, and realizing that the world was a wide landscape where a man could get lost. After he had rearmed himself from the bodies of two Hydra agents, a drug dealer, and a gang banger, he had come to realize that slipping away, hiding, being nothing at all was very easy, too easy.

He had been built on the foundation of a command structure for more than seventy years. Even before the blurred vagueness of falling, he knew order and military command. Aside from mashed up images, feelings and impressions, he knew that he had to have some manner of structure in his life. With no more commands down the line, he loitered, slipping through the shadows on Washington for awhile, finding the unsavoury places and people, leaving a few bodies in his wake and not particularly caring that they were found and televised either. A weapon bared he moved through the chaos at first because it was all he knew, listless for anything but the violence he had played a role in for so long. It lost it's purpose without the trigger of structure.

His world stagnated as he avoided those who hunted him, and he cared little for the lives he took when they found him. They came to command him because they thought he would simply bow to old standards, that he would go back to being his code name if they applied even electricity to his brain. They hadn't earned the right to command him. They were weaker than he, hadn't even survived a single encounter when he decided to throw his weight back at them. They were weak men, lost in words and hiding behind guns and dying in the shadows of buildings and trees.

Slowly, resolution began to form from the ashes of his lost command structure. He decided he would allow himself to be commanded again, that he yearned to be commanded by someone with the strength of both character and body to overtake him or at least bow him slightly with respect. Pierce had been like that, he reflected. The man hadn't needed to physically harm him to command his respect, though he remembered well being struck when he required the prompt. A few others had commanded a similar reaction deep in his guts, and his attention snapped over to them. One at a time, he decided. One searched, the other could be found if he looked.

He had been lost for a few months, considering leaving to go to Brooklyn for more pieces of an old puzzle, but he was drawn back into Washington because beating information out of a SHIELD agent had satisfied him that he would get what he wanted. As a ghost story, he knew that the only way to get proper attention was to do something not only obvious but dramatic. His depth of dramatic no doubt would be very different from others that he knew existed, but like a well-trained dog returning to his master, he knew how to get the attention that was needed to invite a recall command.

Hydra agents were not easy to find in large quantities in Washington anymore, most arrested or underground and hiding. It took him two days to find a nest of the vipers, using the old underground tunnels that he knew well. He'd ended them to prove he might not be under command, but it was something worth earning given his skills. Their bodies were left in obvious Hydra uniforms and symbols and piled high in front of the Smithsonian. As if the symbol of his loyalty degradation wasn't enough, none of the corpses had heads, and he had piled them in such a way that he could sit atop the whole mess and lounge there as obvious as the start of a new day.

Media and police were one thing, not that interesting, but he let them think they had command of him for a moment. Let them show his face around for SHIELD and Hydra and them to know he was here. Meaningless orders were ignored, people's reactions only earned a turning of his cheek in dismissal before he knew that the police presence would be a problem to slip away from. Instead he slipped from his lounging perch to ignore warnings and breaking into the Smithsonian because it suited him there. It seemed a fitting place to bow to the command of someone worthy.

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Steve's eyes narrowed slightly and while he knew that this man was his best friend and he always will be, it did not escape his attention that he was rolling a knife between his fingers.

He glanced up. "So, are you planning using that?"

Steve looked at Bucky in shock. It was impressive he had to admit. "That was you? Why?"

His eyes drifted away from the bared shield and the man behind it, having fought Steve enough to know how well they did playing warriors with each other. His arm still twinged with memory occasionally after all, but he had other purposes here and now that he hadn't decided if they would include a fight or not. He could lead a merry chase through the Smithsonian, and there were plenty of exhibits to hide in.

"Are you going to give me reason to?" He knew the dangers of knife combat with Steve after all. He had to be careful as he wasn't getting maintenance on his arm anymore.

"Cut off one head and two more shall take its place was the motto of Hydra," he said in an almost conversational tone. "I've found though that if you cut off enough heads, they start to run out. Its simply necessary to cut off all the heads in a certain amount of time and the beast dies."

"I'd rather not if its all the same to you," He said. "I've kind of hand sucky week you know?" Steve glanced up that the piece in front of him. He smiled broadly.

"So why come here?"

Some of the tension that came with anticipation for combat left him at the refusal, and he allowed his arms to dangle more freely at his sides. It was the only obvious sign he had relented on the possibility of combat at this very moment. "Do you want to talk about it?" He hungered to hear about it, to know someone would treat him human for just a few moments.

"I was living in a time where I belonged for awhile," he said simply. "And making a statement, not as broad as yours taking out SHIELD and Hydra, but all the same."

Steve looked at his best friend, his mouth hanging open a bit. He couldn't help it. He just started laughing because he couldn't do anything but laugh. Suddenly his shoulders started to shake, and he looked absolutely striken.

It was too much.

"Yeah because that worked out so well didn't it?

Steve sighed and slid down the wall. "What are you really doing here?"

The laughter wasn't reflected from him, and he raised an eyebrow at the reaction. It seemed that 'bad week' might have been an understatement at this point, but the crack in armour, the show of vulnerability was like having a kill blooded. He knew he could use it to his advantage and move in so easily. He didn't resist the allure of it either, slowly walking over to where Steve had sat down.

He didn't sit but hovered close, his expression one of concern even as his eyes flicked around to assess the level of danger to where they were.

"Does it bother you to know you're free of lies?" He shifted at the question and then slowly moved to a crouch in front of Steve. "Waiting for you."

Steve curled up, his knees pulled up close to him, his head resting in them. "If you are going to kill me, could you please just do it already? I'm so tired of fighting."

Steve looked up at his friend then.

"Although, I wondered why you bothered to save me if you are just going to kill me now?"

Steve glanced up quickly, "I'm sick of being fucking used," He said bitterly. "Everything I thought I knew was based on a lie. How would you feel?"

He hadn't left the message out there to draw Steve in to kill the man; that wouldn't serve his purpose, wouldn't provide him with the structure that he needed to be functional. The sheer idea that he would save Steve and then kill the man months later seemed absurd; he didn't waste efforts and didn't change his mind on things.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said slowly, his eyes half-lidding almost casually. "I drew you here to protect you. Hydra is out there, but I've got your back."

There was a twist of odd euphoria as the opening to insert himself in completely just seemed to present itself. If he wasn't already crouching, he might have sat down next to Steve to be close, but he had committed himself to cool, calmness, and he would stick to that. "You're belief was never a lie. Remember what you believed." A look of confusion flashed across his face at the question relating his opinion, his feelings. "I was empty, a blade laid bare... you are strong. You'll make your way; I'll... help you."

"Why?" Steve whispered. "Why not just let Hydra kill me, maybe it would be best for everyone." He stated softly as he rested his knees for a moment, just like he did when he was a kid, and had gotten the crap kicked out of him.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Steve said, as he looked up at the Winter Soldier. "My belief was in a system that never existed. It was based on a lie. I can't lie. I am Captain Fucking America," He said bitterly.

"Yeah? How are you going to help me?"

This line of questioning made him shift ever closer, rocking on the balls of his feet to move in until he was crouched right next to Steve. There was so much laid out in front of him to pick from that it was hard to control his enthusiasm to gather up and store away such vulnerability. It was beautiful; this suffering gave the illusion of arousal and so he basked in it. It was all he could do not to lick his lips in anticipation.

"No, you're a symbol, and those need to live on," he said softly, his voice losing the cold hard edge that it normally had when he spoke. "Hydra doesn't deserve you or your death."

He shifted to rest his arms across his knees, peering at the other man, enjoying this talk more than he would have thought. It was delicious. "Your belief system came before you were Captain America. Don't forget it, and you will prevail as you always have."

He leaned forward intently as if he had been waiting for that very question. His hands shifted out to catch him on Steve's knees and they were almost nose-to-nose. "I will kill for you. I will protect you from shadows and light alike. I will be your rock so that you can be the symbol that you are."

Steve just stared at his friend. If he had been thinking more clearly, he would have realized how creepy that sounded, but as if stood he didn't.

He was a broken soul.

"Why me? Why go to the end of the line for me?" He asked quietly.

The shattering was evident in Steve's eyes, and he enjoyed it as a cat seemed to enjoy tormenting a wounded mouse or bird. He stayed close, protective and cool, a buffer to the outside world in his own mind. He'd protect this vulnerability for himself, to enjoy it at his leisure.

"Because you went the of the line for me," he said softly. He leaned in further and rested his forehead against Steve's. "We made a promise, and I intend to keep it."

Steve closed his eyes, and found comfort in the feeling of Bucky pressed against him. God, he could just lose himself in his friend's presence, and die a happy death.

"Why would you want to help me? I couldn't save you. I failed."

He shifted in to wedge into the new reality that he wanted to create for them to be together. There was so much that they could offer each other, stability, structure, the means to create the ultimate chaos together. He shifted his hands higher up on Steve's thighs so he was ever closer, crowding in as protective a way as he could manage without actually standing over Steve.

"We all make our choices, and to belittle the choice I made when I knew the risk is to refuse to acknowledge the sacrifice that I made," he whispered firmly. He knew only that he had fallen to cold and snow, but that he had known the risk going in. The time, the place, the reasons went beyond him. "I made a promise. Let me keep it. Let me kill for you."

Steve didn't flinch when Bucky pressed closer to him. It was actually really comforting to have Bucky's hands there, like he wouldn't disappear in the blink of an eye.

"I never asked you to kill for me. Why would you want to do that for me?" Steve whispered, covering Bucky's hands with his own.

He had no reason to leave, not when this suffering was blossoming in front of him like this. It was perfect to wedge himself into, to grasp at the things that he needed most. There was no resistance, and he savoured that most of all.

"You don't have to ask. I would do it for you, to protect you, to make you happy. So you don't have to," he whispered back, leaning in to nudge his nose against Steve's watching the man closely as he flexed his hands under his friend's.

Part of Steve knew that he should leave, and get far away from here. Far away from his friend, if that is what you could call Bucky now. He wasn't sure, he didn't know anything anymore.

The only thing he had was the soldier sitting in front of him.

"I need to get out of here for awhile. Do you have a place we can go?"

There was only so much to push a man without some sort of outside help like chemicals or restraint or conditioning. He knew that, so he also knew when to slowly back off the pressure on Steve, easing his weight away a bit. A broken soul needed to be put back together slowly with the right pressures.

He looked around and then nodded. "I know of a few places we can hide out. It will have to be just us though, at least for a little while." He shifted as he rose and offered Steve a hand. "Come, I'll show you the way."

Steve looked at Bucky curiously as he finally got up off the ground, reaching out to take the offered hand. "Do you really think I would have a problem being with you?" He asked, still not letting go of his hand.

"Everything is so different now, maybe it's time for a different way, don't you think?"

He pulled Steve up without visible effort on his part, checking the man over for any sign of injury. There was nothing, but his blue eyes flicked up to regard this man at the question. Only Steve could ask him that question and make it so sincere; it was why he had chosen the man. "I wasn't certain."

He nodded his head and gestured as he turned and walked away from the entrance to head deeper into the Smithsonian. "Perhaps it's time for you to take command back and not listen to anyone else's orders again."

"Bucky, if you had wanted to kill me I figure that you would have done it by now, and since you didn't. I am as safe as I am going to get with Hydra running around."

He sighed as he looked around, nodding slowly. "Fuck SHIELD, I am done taking orders. "Do you know where we are going?"

"I don't work for Hydra anymore," he said simply. He had Steve to thank for that, though being on his own had not particularly been a good time for him either. He suspected that things were going to get better from here on out. "You'll be safe with me. Safer than on your own."

He nodding and began to walk away, leading the way to other parts of the Smithsonian. "It will just be us then," he murmured with a smirk. "Of course, I do. For now, an old Hydra house that's been empty for awhile. We can hole up there and then move to strike them as we please."

Steve smiled softly as he followed Bucky. He knew that he should run... away from this man, and away from life, but he didn't really want to do that.

"You know that I would follow you to hell and back." Steve said softly. "So how are we getting out of here undetected?"

The words almost had him pausing in step, pausing to look over at Steve to make certain those words were accurate, but he didn't. He kept walking away with the other man at his heels. They were broken together, so perhaps together they could fix the matter as well.

"With all our enemies, we might just find ourselves walking that path," he said softly. He was prepared for it, was even looking forward to it a bit. "The sewers."

Steve followed his friend, but he almost stopped dead when Bucky mentioned the sewers.

"I hate water," He muttered softly, clutching his shield. He would follow this man into hell and back, but really did they have to trudge through water.

"Is there a second option?"