#convinced this place that i was in the TRENCHES finding is either gonna reject my application

[francisforever2014]

having to worry about housing for next year despite thinking that i had it all sorted and i don’t even feel like i’m gonna throw up at all i’m actually completely normal

[chicklette]

Final (full) chapter of my ode to @frostbitebakery’s flawless art.  I made the story.  The glory belongs to her.

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3

When Bucky is thirty-two, he recognizes that probably won’t ever move on with his life, and he’s making his peace with it.  He runs cold - colder than any warm blooded man has a right to, and he has terrible dreams now - dreams where he’s trapped in ice or lost in the snow, dreams where everything around him is an eerie shade of blue.

He gets it - his soulmate froze to death in the space of a week, lost to the Atlantic, never to be found again.  It’s horrible.  When Bucky thinks about it, it’s horrible.

So he knows that’s why he’s having the dreams.  Doesn’t make it okay, but he understands at least.

And maybe the world needed someone to truly mourn Steve Rogers, actual human being, versus mourning the loss of Captain America.  Bucky doesn’t know the reasons, he just knows that he’s fallen flat every time he’s tried to move on, and he’s done with trying.  He loves Steve, and he always will.  There are plenty of folks who never move on from losing their soulmate.

Still, idle hands all that.  

So he spends a lot of time at the center with Sam.  At present, he leads one of the groups on new loss and grief, and another on making the choice not to date.  He’s comfortable with his choices.  He knows his family would like to see him at least try dating again, but Bucky can’t seem to convince himself that dating would be fair to anyone, not the way things are now.  

He’s made his peace with his lot in life.

Bucky heads home from work, having upgraded to a third-floor walk up with two actual rooms and plenty of windows for natural light.  As he opens the door, there’s a chirrup and Binx comes hurtling toward him, a little black ball of fuzz with great green eyes.

“Hello,” Bucky says, bending down to meet her little headbutt.  She meows more and more, and Bucky answers.  He tells her about the new  nano tech that Tony Stark has invented, and how excited he is to play with it, and Binx, well, he imagines she’s telling him about a bird that landed on the balcony, or maybe the fierce battle she had with her toy mouse.  

“Tell me all about it,” Bucky says, and Binx meows, meeps, and chirrups, leaving Bucky feeling delighted.  He refills her food bowl and checks her water fountain, and she follows along, never letting Bucky out of her sight.  

When he’s done, they go to the living room, where Bucky pulls out her toy basket and and sits down to play with her.  When she’s had enough, Binx crawls into Bucky’s lap, rolls over to show her belly and purrs.

In truth, Bucky credits a lot of his recovery - because that’s what it feels like, so that’s what he calls it - to Binx.  By the time Sam found him in that alley, he’d been wracked with sobs, trying hard not to shake too much, so that he didn’t disturb the cat. When Sam gently pulled Bucky to his feet, Bucky set the cat down and tried to walk away, but Binx wasn’t having it.  She leaped up into Bucky’s arms, sat herself on his shoulder and purred very loudly into his ear.

“Looks like you got yourself a cat, man,” Sam said.

“I don’t...I - Yeah.  I guess so.” (It should be noted that he did post fliers and ads, and he took her to a vet to see if she had a chip.  He wasn’t going to just steal someone’s cat, geez, Sam.)

Since then, even on days when all Bucky wants to do is lay in bed and feel sorry for himself, he still has to get up to take care of Binx.  The first time she woke him from a nightmare by laying on his chest and purring loudly, Bucky chalked it up to coincidence.  However, after it happened three, four, five times, he began to think that maybe there was something there.  

Regardless, he adores the little black cat, and she seems to love him right back.

He’s watching her leap through the air, going after a feathered mouse that Bucky was launching.  Most of the time she’d catch it and bring it back for him to throw again.  It’s a fun game, but his mind is wandering toward dinner when the phone rings.

Bucky considers letting it go to voicemail when he doesn’t recognize the number, but then remembers that he’d given his number out to a couple of guys at group, so he answers.

“Barnes,” he says.

“Mr. Barnes?  This is Phil Coulson.  We have - that is, there’s a - would it be possible for you to come to our headquarters?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“There’s been - I’m sorry, I can’t explain more over the phone.”

A moment later, there’s a knock on Bucky’s door.  Answering, he finds a big man in a nice suit looking at him from behind sunglasses and holding up a badge.  The ID says SHIELD.  

“Agent Coulson sent me,” the man says. “We’re ready to transport you to HQ.”

“Did you - there’s a guy here,” Bucky says.

“Oh, oh excellent.  Rodney will accompany you.”

“What the hell is going on?” Bucky asks.

There’s a quiet pause on the phone, and Coulson speaks again.  “I’m sorry,” he starts.  “I can’t tell you anything over the phone.  Your line isn’t secure.  If you’ll come to headquarters, I’ll explain everything, but please, come now?”

Bucky’s feeling suspicious, but also - God - is it hopeful?  He’s feeling hopeful?  Whatever it is, it’s unexpected.

He wants to say no.  He has no doubt that whatever is going on is going to set his recovery back, no question about it.  

But he also knows that if he doesn’t go, the curiosity will plague him.  He’s fucked either way.

Locking up, Bucky follows Rodney out into the hall.  When Bucky heads to the staircase, Rodney taps his arm.  

“This way, please, Mr. Barnes.  We have a helicopter the roof.”

“A helicopter,” he repeats, stunned.  

With a touch to Bucky’s elbow, Rodney reminds him that they need to get moving.  Bucky follows him up the staircase.  

Bucky’s not sure what’s going on, and as he wonders, he realizes he’s getting warm.  True, he’s walking up several flights of stairs, but then, he does that every day anyway.  When he grabs the banister, his fingers tingle with warmth.  

“What the…?”  He stops, touches his fingers to his face, and he feels warm all over, warmer than he’s felt in years now.

“Oh, god,” he says, holding tight to the banister, then leaning against the wall.  “Oh, god.  You found his body, didn’t you?”

.

As the helicopter lands at SHIELD headquarters, Bucky watches as Phil Coulson crosses the landing pad to meet them.

As soon as the door’s open and the headphones are off, Bucky’s in his face.  

“You found his body.  Is that why I’m here?  You found...you found….”  Taking another steadying breath, Bucky leans down, hands on his knees.  

“Mr. Barnes, please, if you would just come with me.”

Coulson places a steadying hand on Bucky’s arm, and Bucky straightens and follows him, head spinning. The SHIELD office are neat and spacious.  When they get on the elevator, Bucky’s surprised when it greets him.

“Barnes, James Buchanan.  Welcome to SHIELD.”

Bucky gives Phil a questioning look, but Phil just smiles his Mona Lisa smile.  

“Mr. Coulson, all due respect, but what the hell is going on?”

“Just a few more minutes,” he says, and then leans forward as the elevator requests a retinal scan.

“Security level seven access denied.  This floor is for authorized personnel only,” the elevator says.  “Mr. Barnes is not authorized.”

“Override protocols,” Coulson says.  “Authority: Fury, Nicholas J.”

There’s a pause before the elevator says, “Protocol override approved by Fury, Nicholas J.”

Just then, the elevator doors open and Bucky is taken into a small conference room with a very large screen. There are a couple of other people at the table:  a beautiful woman with her dark hair up in a twist and a quiet aura of strength; a black man in a leather trench coat with a patch over one eye, and a redhead who looks like...it’s just that she kind of looks like….

“Holy shit you’re the Black Widow,” Bucky says, unable to contain himself.

He leans back against the door, trying to steady himself.  Whatever is going on, it’s big.  There is no way they’re gonna let him in a room with the Black Widow of all people if it isn’t something big.

“Have a seat,” the black man says.  The brunette woman tosses a file folder his way, and Bucky takes it, opening it to see a stack of papers littered with little yellow “sign here” post-its.  He looks up at Coulson.

“Mr. Barnes, this is Director Fury,” Coulson says, indicating the man with the patch, “Maria Hill, and, I believe you recognized Miss Natalia Romanova.”

“Mr. Barnes,” Fury says, and Bucky finds himself straightening up at the sound, like a kid caught daydreaming in class.  “The information that we are about to share with you is highly classified.”  

Bucky nods.  “Go on.”

Two hours later, Bucky’s still in a state of shock.  What they’re talking about isn’t possible, but he’s looking at the proof: Steve Rogers lays in a hospital bed, his breathing deep and even.  

He’s dressed in soft pants and a t-shirt that’s maybe just a little too small.  Bucky doesn’t want to think about someone handling him - dressing or undressing him, not while he was so vulnerable.

He’s - Christ, he’s beautiful.  

His long lashes lay against his cheek, tipped in blonde so light they almost disappear.  There’s color in his face, his cheeks are a little flushed, his bottom lip is plump and red.  Bucky wonders whether the room is too warm for Steve, but Bucky feels fine, so he lets it go.  Otherwise, Steve’s skin is pale, but not unnaturally so.

Fury asked Bucky if he felt anything different, anything strange.  The doctors said they couldn’t detect any brain damage, but they also couldn’t believe that anyone could survive for as long as Steve had without it.

Bucky doesn’t know what to expect.  He’s trying to think of how to introduce himself when Steve’s breathing picks up.  

He watches as Steve comes awake, blinking once, twice, before sitting up and looking around.

The room is modern but sparse.  Director Fury suggested mocking the room up to look like it was still 1945, but Bucky rejected the idea.  Steve’s a smart man.  Any pretense will impair their trust from the beginning.

Steve’s looking down at himself, then around the room again, before his eyes land on Bucky.

He stares, squinting a little and looking confused.  Bucky’s just about to say something when Steve speaks.

“Bucky?”

Bucky can’t fight the smile, or the tears that wet his eyes on hearing Steve say his name.  “You know me?” he asks.

“You’re Bucky.  You’re...how do I know you?”

Nodding, Bucky looks away, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.  

“Where am I?” Steve asks, and this one, Bucky can answer.

“New York - Manhattan actually.  In a SHIELD facility.  Ahm, I guess you used to know it as the SSR? They’re not called that anymore, now they’re SHIELD, and don’t ask me what that stands for, because, buddy I have no idea.”

Steve takes a deep breath, then takes another look around.  Bucky watches as Steve notices the decor, the materials that everything is made of.  His eyes flick over the keypad entry to the next room, then flick back, studying it for a moment.

He turns to look at Bucky again.  “When am I?”

Dipping his head down, Bucky scratches the back of his neck.  It’s not that he feels sorry for Steve, but Christ, how the hell is he supposed to explain this?

“What do you last remember?”

Steve sits up straighter and presses his lips flat, and it’s that fight me stance that Bucky is so, so fond of.

“The Valkyrie.  I had to bring her down.”  His words are resolute.

Bucky nods.  “We thought you went down in the ocean.  They searched -- god, Howard Stark never gave up searching. But it turns out you went down over Greenland.  They think that the heat from the plane melted the snow, until it sank down into the ice, and the next snowfall covered it up.  Then global warming came and the permafrost finally shifted enough to bring the plane back up to the surface.”

“How long?” Steve asks.  “How long was I down there?”  Steve’s squaring off again, his tone a little bit angry and Bucky can’t help but see the spitfire kid he grew up laid over the righteous man in front of him.

“Alright,” Bucky says, holding his hands up and not even fighting the fond smile taking over his face.  “Okay.  You,” and this part is hard.  This part is so hard.  “You’ve been gone for almost seventy years.”  

Bucky’s not sure, but he thinks his voice trembles a little at the end.  He feels something like a sob rising in his chest, a feeling of overwhelming sorrow, decades lost, but that can’t be right because if it is, that means...that means….

“Oh, God,” Bucky says, .  “Is that you?  Jesus, Steve.” He brings a hand up to rub at his chest, right over his heart.  “Steve, I’m so sorry.”

Steve looks alarmed, like he’s going to bolt, and Bucky gets his head together long enough to do the thing he was brought here to do.  The thing that no one else in the world could do.  He gathers up everything he feels for Steve, all of the affection, all of the hard-won peace that he’s found, his acceptance that he’d never know Steve, but that he’d love him all the same.  For the rest of his life, he’d love him all the same.  

He takes that ball of emotion and he pushes it into the Steve-shaped space in his heart, in his mind.

Steve gasps, and bodily sways back from Bucky, eyes growing wide. “You’re- how?”

Bucky stands and approaches Steve, reaching his hand out, moving so slow.  Steve watches as Bucky nears, his expression inscrutable.

As gently as he can, Bucky brings his hand to Steve’s, brushing the tips of his fingers over the back of Steve’s hand.  

He’s holding his breath, and Steve is, too.

The moment they touch, it’s -- it’s nothing Bucky’s ever felt before.  All the years of hurting, of loneliness, all of the times that he’d longed for Steve, ached for him, all of that disappears.  Instead, he’s filled with all of the other stuff, the good stuff.  He’s filled with the moments of watching Steve grow up, his fondness turning to affection, turning to love.  He’s left with the pride he felt at what a good, decent man Steve became, he’s left with his acceptance of a life without Steve, quietly loving him, his whole life through.

Steve’s eyes widen, and he reaches out, taking Bucky’s hand in his.  Bucky wants to use the connection to push all of his love, all of his strength into Steve, but instead he’s hit with Steve’s feelings, and nothing could have prepared him for that.

He feels Steve, lonely, scared, and cold, and then he feels when that shifts.  He feels Steve’s curiosity, his excitement.  He’d waited so long for his soulmate, and somehow, there Bucky was.  He watched as Bucky grew up, through Bucky’s angry years, and his attempts to say good-bye, his attempts to move on, and then through his hard-won peace.  Steve got all of that, loved all of that.

“How…?” Steve asks.  

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, looking down at their entwined fingers.  “I don’t really care.”

Reaching up with his other hand, Steve strokes his fingers along Bucky’s jaw, tilting his face up toward Steve’s.  Bucky’s eyes flutter closed for a moment.

When people talk about meeting their soulmate, they talk about how it feels like home, how they just knew.  

None of them ever talk about the absolute absence of pain, of fear, of doubt.  

This isn’t coming home.  

This is safety and comfort, admiration and affection, and the softest stirrings of lust.  This is certainty he didn’t know could exist, and all of it bubbling along a current of joy that sings through Bucky’s entire being.

This is love.  

“I didn’t think you existed,” Steve says.

“I never thought this could happen,” Bucky replies.  

He reaches out, puts a hand on Steve’s hip, and a moment later, Steve is pulling him forward, into his space.  His eyes are bright blue, and in them, Bucky sees everything he’s ever wanted.  

Steve’s fingers are holding tight to Bucky’s shirt, Bucky’s hand.  

“I’ve waited my whole life for you,” Bucky says, squeezing Steve’s hip.  “My whole life.”

Steve smiles.  It’s small but it’s grateful.  Hopeful.  

Leaning down he presses a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips, before pulling him into his arms and holding him tight.  

Bucky nestles his head into the crook of Steve’s neck, breathing him in, and he smells exactly the way Bucky always thought he would. This is the part that feels like home.

Bucky and Steve are finally home.

A/N:  This is the last full chapter, but I am writing a little epilogue that will go up at some point this weekend when I have actual time to write again.  This will eventually post to AO3.

Thank you all for going on this ride with me. You have been nothing short of amazing, and I have LOVED getting to know some of you. 

Last but not least, thank you to @frostbitebakery who is as kind and generous as she is talented.  Go peep her art and give her some love.  She deserves every bit of it.