Nearly done :D
Title: Better when I bleed.
Rating: Not too high, but there's a warning for self-harm.
Pairing: None specifically.
Part: 12 of 13
Notes: 33k overall and taking forever and a day to beta, but I'm glad to say that it's nearly done.
Thanks: Thanks go to Sparklyfiend aka my partner in crime for beta'ing this fic... whilst writing two others with me, because apparently that's how we roll.
Things were not perfect but Bucky was not naive enough to think that they would ever be, however, as the months had drawn on Steve had seemed increasingly happy within himself - which could only be considered a positive as far as Bucky was concerned. It was good to see Steve coming into his own as both a man and a leader; he was proud to say that he had been there for the whole journey and that he knew him best of all. And knowing what went on underneath the cool Captain America exterior was an important part of that feeling, and it was a feeling he shared with only two other people - Howard and Peggy - and even though they knew his secret they were nowhere near as good as reading Steve as he was.
They were just about as close as two people could be. Well as close as two people could be without being sexually intimate and Bucky, for all the teasing they received off some of the other officers, was not at all interested in going there. They were brothers, even if they didn’t share the same blood, and if people couldn’t understand that then it wasn’t their problem. So what if they sometimes fell asleep curled up together in one of their small cots, it didn’t mean a damn thing. Steve had Peggy (even if neither of them seemed to realise it) and Bucky had every other woman within a five mile radius of the camp (theoretically, at least.).
Bucky honestly couldn’t see why people had to make a big deal out of things they couldn’t understand. In fact, he and Howard had gotten into a lengthy discussion over that exact subject one night during a brief stay in a rundown town in France. He had been ranting, and Howard had shown him some wisdom.
“I just don’t understand why everything has to be about sex!” He had drunkenly slurred, to which the engineer had raised cynical eyebrow. “Well, I do, but not between me and Steve,” he had emphasised his friend’s name in a half disgusted way,
“he’s like my brother I just... even if I was... then Steve...” he had stuttered before finding the correct words, “no way.”
“I don’t know, I think if I was going to swing that way then Steve would be the kind of man I’d want.” Howard half-shrugged and took a drink from his glass.
“That’s just... No.” Bucky had replied sharply.
“I didn’t say I wanted him, I just said if I was gunna lust after a man I might as well lust after the perfect specimen of masculinity.” His tone had been nonchalant but Bucky wondered whether there was something else behind those words, of course, it was entirely possible that Howard had just been bitten by the endearing personality of Steve Rogers.
“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.” Bucky had slurred again.
“Jesus, not like I’m saying I’m an invert,” he said a little too loudly and attracted some attention from the rest of the patrons. “But,” he said pointedly as he lowered his voice, “as I was saying, people are jealous of what they can’t have and what they don’t understand. I doubt anyone will ever be as close to Steve as you are and I’m sure a lot of men don’t understand what it’s like to have a bond like that.” Bucky suspected, even in his half-drunk state that a lot of men implied I in that comment, but he didn’t feel the need to confirm it.
“Montgomery and Dugan don’t get no shit,” he huffed.
“Yeah but one of them isn’t a super soldier? Kind of easier to explain that relationship... well that and everyone knows they tend to get a bit handsy with each other.” Howard pulled a slightly pained face, probably trying to dispel the mental picture he had conjured for himself.
“Now that conversation I am definitely not drunk enough for.” Bucky wrinkled his nose, but smiled despite himself.
“Yeah, but it got you smiling again didn’t it.” Howard laughed easily.
“How does that even work...” Bucky was distracted by his own thoughts, and whilst it wasn’t a pleasant image he wondered exactly what went on there.
“You want me to draw you a picture?” Howard replied quickly and Bucky shook his head before he had even finished his sentence. People could believe whatever they wanted about him and Steve because he knew the truth. He knew that they would fight for each other and that they would die for each other but that was as far as it went. And he was comfortable enough in that knowledge to deal with all of the teasing.
Afterwards, Bucky had to question whether Howard had said anything to any of the other men, because after that the taunts didn’t seem quite so bad. Although it was equally likely that he had started to see the funny side, and he especially found it funny to think about how Montgomery and Dugan had managed to stay out of the limelight.
He guessed it was better for the team to tease him and Steve for their innocent brotherly affection than to hound the two men everyone knew were involved. Howard was right, it was easier to tease the super soldier about something so petty, because it wasn’t like they could bring him down a peg or two by critiquing his fighting technique or physical physique.
Steve was fast becoming one of the best fighters Bucky had ever seen, and not just in terms of strength but also technique. His muscles seemed to remember the correct way of fighting and where his movements had been effective but raw before they were now crafted with a precision that it was hard not to be impressed by - even if Bucky hadn’t seen him as the skinny kid getting beaten up twice a week. But he wasn’t just improving at the technical aspect of fighting he was also improving with tactical coordination and as his confidence in himself grew, so did the confidence of the men who fought with him.
When Steve had suggested the idea of gliding down to the train from the cliff-face it had seemed like a stupidly extravagant idea and when he had asked for a volunteer Bucky had been the first one to offer his services. He would have followed Steve anywhere in the world without question.
This time was no different to the rest - except for when it was.
The last thing that Bucky saw before he fell out of the train was his Captain’s hand inches away from him. The last thing he saw before he crashed into the snow was the pained expression on Steve’s face. The only thing Bucky thought as he lost consciousness was that he hoped Steve didn’t blame himself.
**
The news wasn’t called in, no one reported it, but the pain was written on each of the men’s faces as they climbed onto the plane. Howard was only there because they were using his tracking device to locate the unit, but when he realised what had happened he had never been so glad that he was sent on a mission. He opened the door with a delighted grin, and almost laughed as Zola was forced into his plane but his happiness was fleeting as the men joined him inside the fuselage and there was a complete change in the atmosphere.
He knew what was wrong before anyone had managed to utter a word. Though he had not conducted a head count he knew that if he did that someone would be missing. The faces of the men all told the same story and almost seemed to merge into one. Then there was Steve’s face, almost breathtaking in its inconsolable beauty. Bright blue eyes were lined with red and leaking tears.
Howard couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the tears from forming in the corners of his eyes, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t do anything. The loss was so devastating that it almost took his breath away. It was so odd to think that Bucky Barnes would no longer be available for drunken nights of debauchery in the middle of the hell of war. He sat next to Steve in silence.
No one said anything. Not even when they landed back in London.
They went their separate ways as soon as they could, everyone branching off (apart from Montgomery and Dugan who sought comfort in each other) to try and find some way of coping. Steve wondered off, but Howard didn’t have the words to say to him - he didn’t have the words to say what he really means to anyone. He just needed to do something. He tried drinking but the taste of liquor reminded him of long nights spent talking to Bucky and he got irrationally angry and threw the glass against the wall in disgust. He tried sleeping, sprawled out in the small cot in his workshop but every time he closed his eyes he saw Bucky, and sleep evaded him. He tried tinkering with one of the weapons they had ceased from Hydra, but his hands shook too much for him to do anything all that effective with it.
There didn’t seem to be anything that he was capable of doing. And if he felt that bad he couldn’t imagine what Steve must have been feeling like.
The hours pass so slowly that it might as well be days and he just couldn’t do anything. It took all the strength left in his body to walk into the debriefing the next morning. The one where they would be discussing what happened on that train. The mere thought of it brought a lump to his throat.
“He deserves a proper burial.” Steve’s voice was calm but destroyed.
“We haven’t recovered his body.” There was something in the Colonel’s voice that Howard didn’t like and he could feel his stomach sinking because it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was trying to say.
“Well, keep looking.” Steve’s words echoed Howard’s thoughts and he felt like he should stand up and salute.
“We have done three flyovers and there’s no sign of a body, it could take months.” The colonel was not yet annoyed, but Howard could tell it would not be all that long before he would be. Unfeeling bastard, he didn’t care that this was war, all he cared about was respecting his friend’s memory
“Are you trying to tell me he’s not worth it?” Steve’s voice was suddenly angry
“I’m saying that we’re in the middle of a war, Captain Rogers, and we don’t have the resources to lead the kind of expedition it would require to search the potential landing field.” The Colonel snapped back.
“That’s not good enough.” Steve growled and his fist collided with the desk so hard that something snapped, but Howard didn’t care because he was just glad someone had said what he had been thinking. Something inside of the man had changed, and Howard could feel the grief coming off him in waves as he hoisted himself to his feet, joined by Phillips. He wondered why the Colonel seemed so intent on antagonising him.
“Captain Rogers,” the colonel’s voice was clipped and they squared off against each other in deathly silence for a moment before Peggy interrupted them.
“Steve,” she placed a hand on his shoulder and looked every bit as broken as Howard felt. She blinked several times, no doubt trying to hide her own grief and the blond relaxed slightly, sliding a comforting arm around her. The Colonel watched as she fitted herself against the Captain and he nods somewhat inexplicably.
“We’ll do everything we can.” He said, before leaving the three of them alone in their misery.
Howard had always been jealous of the way people gravitate to Steve, but he couldn’t help but do it himself in his moment of need. He stood up wordlessly to join the couple, and placed a gentle arm on the larger man’s shoulder. For his part, Steve shot him an understanding nod but did not break the silence.
None of them could maintain the illusion that the stinging in their eyes is anything other than a rush of emotion.
**
He saw it too late: that was the only explanation. And Bucky was all too quick to throw himself into the line of fire, but what seemed like a noble act was actually really stupid because Steve was a lot stronger than he looked (which was pretty hard anyway) and he even he couldn’t keep his feet on the ground when the blue weapon was aimed directly at his shield, so Bucky stood no chance. The action seemed to move in slow motion, Bucky pulled the shield up to cover himself and face off against the Hydra agent.
There was a flash of brilliant blue that seemed to linger for just a moment too long and he had watched in painfully slow motion as Bucky was flung across the train and the shield bounced to a stop near him. He worked as fast as he could, retrieving shield and taking out the armed assailant, but he was still too late.
The air was biting against his skin as he climbed out of the train towards his friend. Just a few inches further and he would have saved him. A few inches and Bucky would have lived. Instead, he is forced to watch as his friend is dragged down to the cavernous chasm below.
He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t do anything.
It was all over.
Everything after that was a blur. He couldn’t remember how they stopped the train, he didn’t know how they got to the rendezvous point and he could not recall a single moment of the journey home. But somehow he was back in London, England and he had lost his sergeant - his best friend - his brother.
The silence was almost deafening. No one would talk; everyone was too caught up in the memory of their fallen friend to form the words and he had no one left.
When they separated, he didn’t have anywhere to go so he just wondered off down the war torn streets. Their derelict state echoed the pieces of his broken psyche.
Eventually, he found himself at the same bar where he had talked the Howling Commandos into following him; the desolate husk of the bar felt more like a mirror than he’d ever admit. He had asked Bucky to follow him across the room from where he had sat himself with a bottle of whiskey. And Bucky had accepted, and now he was dead. If he had just been a little bit quicker, a little bit stronger, a little bit better, then Bucky would be with him drinking scotch and laughing over something inane that only they understood.
Every time he closed his eyes he could see Bucky falling away from him. He had been so close to being able to save him and yet at the same time so far away. Yet another way in which he had failed. He would have given anything to be the one who had fallen off that train, just so that he didn’t have to feel the way he did -which was the most selfish thing he had thought in years.
But at that moment he didn’t care.
Three quarters of a bottle of scotch later and he still felt no effect. It was the first time he had ever put that particular effect of the serum to the test, and he was pretty pissed to find out that it had no effect. The one time he had wanted to get off his head drunk was the first time he found out that he couldn’t. Even Peggy couldn’t help him, she sat with him for the longest time and watched as he drank the rest of the bottle of alcohol but her presence was of little comfort to him and she knew it.
Part Thirteen
Rating: Not too high, but there's a warning for self-harm.
Pairing: None specifically.
Part: 12 of 13
Notes: 33k overall and taking forever and a day to beta, but I'm glad to say that it's nearly done.
Thanks: Thanks go to Sparklyfiend aka my partner in crime for beta'ing this fic... whilst writing two others with me, because apparently that's how we roll.
Things were not perfect but Bucky was not naive enough to think that they would ever be, however, as the months had drawn on Steve had seemed increasingly happy within himself - which could only be considered a positive as far as Bucky was concerned. It was good to see Steve coming into his own as both a man and a leader; he was proud to say that he had been there for the whole journey and that he knew him best of all. And knowing what went on underneath the cool Captain America exterior was an important part of that feeling, and it was a feeling he shared with only two other people - Howard and Peggy - and even though they knew his secret they were nowhere near as good as reading Steve as he was.
They were just about as close as two people could be. Well as close as two people could be without being sexually intimate and Bucky, for all the teasing they received off some of the other officers, was not at all interested in going there. They were brothers, even if they didn’t share the same blood, and if people couldn’t understand that then it wasn’t their problem. So what if they sometimes fell asleep curled up together in one of their small cots, it didn’t mean a damn thing. Steve had Peggy (even if neither of them seemed to realise it) and Bucky had every other woman within a five mile radius of the camp (theoretically, at least.).
Bucky honestly couldn’t see why people had to make a big deal out of things they couldn’t understand. In fact, he and Howard had gotten into a lengthy discussion over that exact subject one night during a brief stay in a rundown town in France. He had been ranting, and Howard had shown him some wisdom.
“I just don’t understand why everything has to be about sex!” He had drunkenly slurred, to which the engineer had raised cynical eyebrow. “Well, I do, but not between me and Steve,” he had emphasised his friend’s name in a half disgusted way,
“he’s like my brother I just... even if I was... then Steve...” he had stuttered before finding the correct words, “no way.”
“I don’t know, I think if I was going to swing that way then Steve would be the kind of man I’d want.” Howard half-shrugged and took a drink from his glass.
“That’s just... No.” Bucky had replied sharply.
“I didn’t say I wanted him, I just said if I was gunna lust after a man I might as well lust after the perfect specimen of masculinity.” His tone had been nonchalant but Bucky wondered whether there was something else behind those words, of course, it was entirely possible that Howard had just been bitten by the endearing personality of Steve Rogers.
“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.” Bucky had slurred again.
“Jesus, not like I’m saying I’m an invert,” he said a little too loudly and attracted some attention from the rest of the patrons. “But,” he said pointedly as he lowered his voice, “as I was saying, people are jealous of what they can’t have and what they don’t understand. I doubt anyone will ever be as close to Steve as you are and I’m sure a lot of men don’t understand what it’s like to have a bond like that.” Bucky suspected, even in his half-drunk state that a lot of men implied I in that comment, but he didn’t feel the need to confirm it.
“Montgomery and Dugan don’t get no shit,” he huffed.
“Yeah but one of them isn’t a super soldier? Kind of easier to explain that relationship... well that and everyone knows they tend to get a bit handsy with each other.” Howard pulled a slightly pained face, probably trying to dispel the mental picture he had conjured for himself.
“Now that conversation I am definitely not drunk enough for.” Bucky wrinkled his nose, but smiled despite himself.
“Yeah, but it got you smiling again didn’t it.” Howard laughed easily.
“How does that even work...” Bucky was distracted by his own thoughts, and whilst it wasn’t a pleasant image he wondered exactly what went on there.
“You want me to draw you a picture?” Howard replied quickly and Bucky shook his head before he had even finished his sentence. People could believe whatever they wanted about him and Steve because he knew the truth. He knew that they would fight for each other and that they would die for each other but that was as far as it went. And he was comfortable enough in that knowledge to deal with all of the teasing.
Afterwards, Bucky had to question whether Howard had said anything to any of the other men, because after that the taunts didn’t seem quite so bad. Although it was equally likely that he had started to see the funny side, and he especially found it funny to think about how Montgomery and Dugan had managed to stay out of the limelight.
He guessed it was better for the team to tease him and Steve for their innocent brotherly affection than to hound the two men everyone knew were involved. Howard was right, it was easier to tease the super soldier about something so petty, because it wasn’t like they could bring him down a peg or two by critiquing his fighting technique or physical physique.
Steve was fast becoming one of the best fighters Bucky had ever seen, and not just in terms of strength but also technique. His muscles seemed to remember the correct way of fighting and where his movements had been effective but raw before they were now crafted with a precision that it was hard not to be impressed by - even if Bucky hadn’t seen him as the skinny kid getting beaten up twice a week. But he wasn’t just improving at the technical aspect of fighting he was also improving with tactical coordination and as his confidence in himself grew, so did the confidence of the men who fought with him.
When Steve had suggested the idea of gliding down to the train from the cliff-face it had seemed like a stupidly extravagant idea and when he had asked for a volunteer Bucky had been the first one to offer his services. He would have followed Steve anywhere in the world without question.
This time was no different to the rest - except for when it was.
The last thing that Bucky saw before he fell out of the train was his Captain’s hand inches away from him. The last thing he saw before he crashed into the snow was the pained expression on Steve’s face. The only thing Bucky thought as he lost consciousness was that he hoped Steve didn’t blame himself.
**
The news wasn’t called in, no one reported it, but the pain was written on each of the men’s faces as they climbed onto the plane. Howard was only there because they were using his tracking device to locate the unit, but when he realised what had happened he had never been so glad that he was sent on a mission. He opened the door with a delighted grin, and almost laughed as Zola was forced into his plane but his happiness was fleeting as the men joined him inside the fuselage and there was a complete change in the atmosphere.
He knew what was wrong before anyone had managed to utter a word. Though he had not conducted a head count he knew that if he did that someone would be missing. The faces of the men all told the same story and almost seemed to merge into one. Then there was Steve’s face, almost breathtaking in its inconsolable beauty. Bright blue eyes were lined with red and leaking tears.
Howard couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the tears from forming in the corners of his eyes, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t do anything. The loss was so devastating that it almost took his breath away. It was so odd to think that Bucky Barnes would no longer be available for drunken nights of debauchery in the middle of the hell of war. He sat next to Steve in silence.
No one said anything. Not even when they landed back in London.
They went their separate ways as soon as they could, everyone branching off (apart from Montgomery and Dugan who sought comfort in each other) to try and find some way of coping. Steve wondered off, but Howard didn’t have the words to say to him - he didn’t have the words to say what he really means to anyone. He just needed to do something. He tried drinking but the taste of liquor reminded him of long nights spent talking to Bucky and he got irrationally angry and threw the glass against the wall in disgust. He tried sleeping, sprawled out in the small cot in his workshop but every time he closed his eyes he saw Bucky, and sleep evaded him. He tried tinkering with one of the weapons they had ceased from Hydra, but his hands shook too much for him to do anything all that effective with it.
There didn’t seem to be anything that he was capable of doing. And if he felt that bad he couldn’t imagine what Steve must have been feeling like.
The hours pass so slowly that it might as well be days and he just couldn’t do anything. It took all the strength left in his body to walk into the debriefing the next morning. The one where they would be discussing what happened on that train. The mere thought of it brought a lump to his throat.
“He deserves a proper burial.” Steve’s voice was calm but destroyed.
“We haven’t recovered his body.” There was something in the Colonel’s voice that Howard didn’t like and he could feel his stomach sinking because it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was trying to say.
“Well, keep looking.” Steve’s words echoed Howard’s thoughts and he felt like he should stand up and salute.
“We have done three flyovers and there’s no sign of a body, it could take months.” The colonel was not yet annoyed, but Howard could tell it would not be all that long before he would be. Unfeeling bastard, he didn’t care that this was war, all he cared about was respecting his friend’s memory
“Are you trying to tell me he’s not worth it?” Steve’s voice was suddenly angry
“I’m saying that we’re in the middle of a war, Captain Rogers, and we don’t have the resources to lead the kind of expedition it would require to search the potential landing field.” The Colonel snapped back.
“That’s not good enough.” Steve growled and his fist collided with the desk so hard that something snapped, but Howard didn’t care because he was just glad someone had said what he had been thinking. Something inside of the man had changed, and Howard could feel the grief coming off him in waves as he hoisted himself to his feet, joined by Phillips. He wondered why the Colonel seemed so intent on antagonising him.
“Captain Rogers,” the colonel’s voice was clipped and they squared off against each other in deathly silence for a moment before Peggy interrupted them.
“Steve,” she placed a hand on his shoulder and looked every bit as broken as Howard felt. She blinked several times, no doubt trying to hide her own grief and the blond relaxed slightly, sliding a comforting arm around her. The Colonel watched as she fitted herself against the Captain and he nods somewhat inexplicably.
“We’ll do everything we can.” He said, before leaving the three of them alone in their misery.
Howard had always been jealous of the way people gravitate to Steve, but he couldn’t help but do it himself in his moment of need. He stood up wordlessly to join the couple, and placed a gentle arm on the larger man’s shoulder. For his part, Steve shot him an understanding nod but did not break the silence.
None of them could maintain the illusion that the stinging in their eyes is anything other than a rush of emotion.
**
He saw it too late: that was the only explanation. And Bucky was all too quick to throw himself into the line of fire, but what seemed like a noble act was actually really stupid because Steve was a lot stronger than he looked (which was pretty hard anyway) and he even he couldn’t keep his feet on the ground when the blue weapon was aimed directly at his shield, so Bucky stood no chance. The action seemed to move in slow motion, Bucky pulled the shield up to cover himself and face off against the Hydra agent.
There was a flash of brilliant blue that seemed to linger for just a moment too long and he had watched in painfully slow motion as Bucky was flung across the train and the shield bounced to a stop near him. He worked as fast as he could, retrieving shield and taking out the armed assailant, but he was still too late.
The air was biting against his skin as he climbed out of the train towards his friend. Just a few inches further and he would have saved him. A few inches and Bucky would have lived. Instead, he is forced to watch as his friend is dragged down to the cavernous chasm below.
He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t do anything.
It was all over.
Everything after that was a blur. He couldn’t remember how they stopped the train, he didn’t know how they got to the rendezvous point and he could not recall a single moment of the journey home. But somehow he was back in London, England and he had lost his sergeant - his best friend - his brother.
The silence was almost deafening. No one would talk; everyone was too caught up in the memory of their fallen friend to form the words and he had no one left.
When they separated, he didn’t have anywhere to go so he just wondered off down the war torn streets. Their derelict state echoed the pieces of his broken psyche.
Eventually, he found himself at the same bar where he had talked the Howling Commandos into following him; the desolate husk of the bar felt more like a mirror than he’d ever admit. He had asked Bucky to follow him across the room from where he had sat himself with a bottle of whiskey. And Bucky had accepted, and now he was dead. If he had just been a little bit quicker, a little bit stronger, a little bit better, then Bucky would be with him drinking scotch and laughing over something inane that only they understood.
Every time he closed his eyes he could see Bucky falling away from him. He had been so close to being able to save him and yet at the same time so far away. Yet another way in which he had failed. He would have given anything to be the one who had fallen off that train, just so that he didn’t have to feel the way he did -which was the most selfish thing he had thought in years.
But at that moment he didn’t care.
Three quarters of a bottle of scotch later and he still felt no effect. It was the first time he had ever put that particular effect of the serum to the test, and he was pretty pissed to find out that it had no effect. The one time he had wanted to get off his head drunk was the first time he found out that he couldn’t. Even Peggy couldn’t help him, she sat with him for the longest time and watched as he drank the rest of the bottle of alcohol but her presence was of little comfort to him and she knew it.
Part Thirteen