Steve paused for a moment, studying Bucky’s harsh and painful expression, does he really feel that way? “Don’t say that. C’mon. You’re not a monster…God— you really think of yourself that way?” Steve questioned, his eyebrows in their own pleading frown, “You’re not a- you’re not..What would it take to show you that you’re not what you say you are?” He wanted to kiss him, maybe out of spite or just aggression, but to shut off the waterfall of those words and show him it was okay without uttering a word….
Bucky shook his head again. "I…" He didn't look at Steve, his blue eyes flickering around. "I am, Steve. I killed and I hurt and I destroyed people's lives. I did that. Not someone else. Me." He closed his eyes for a moment.
"No– you're wrong." Steve shook his head, trying to stagger the frantic thoughts and what they told him.
"That wasn't you, it wasn't. They fucked you up. You can't take the blame for this. You weren't you." He ran a hand through his hair and took a breath, "It's not your fault. It's not."
"I wasn't me?" Bucky echoed, shaking his head quickly. "Than who was I, Steve? Because yeah, I wasn't whoever I used to be, and I'm not who you think I am now. I'm someone or something else. And what do you think that is?"
"Look, I don't know what you want me to say– that you were an assasin? I don't think so." Steve said, pulling out the dog tags from Bucky's pocket and holding them up, "James Buchannon Barnes and The Winter Soldier are not the same people. Can't you see? You're not the Winter Soldier anymore– that person is gone."
"He's not gone, Steve!" Bucky shook his head again. "And if he is, than so is James Buchanan Barnes, or at least the way he used to be. Because you can't just pick which one you think I am."
"You're wrong–" Steve said, "You aren't the Winter Soldier, you're Bucky. You may not feel it right now, but I've seen it– the way you smile, the way you flick your hair out of the way sometimes, when you stare at the ground and the way you look at me sometimes– it's you, I know it. I don't think– I know it's you." Steve handed the dog tag back to Bucky.
Bucky took it, putting it back in his pocket, and shook his head again. "But I'm still the soldier, too, Steve. I still study the room for threats, I still look for a handler or wait to be shut down again. I'm still waiting for orders even though I know they aren't coming again."
"Bucky…" Steve sighed, just wanting to hug him like he used to, "You don't have to think that way anymore…You're safe. Hydra is virtually gone, and you're with us now, you don't need to keep your guard up. You can have a home now." With me. Just stay here with me. "I know you're hurting," He sighed quietly, "God knows I am too. But you're safe now."
Bucky shook his head a little. "No. I'm not." He replied slowly. "I'm not safe, and as for a home…" He shrugged slightly, not looking at Steve.
Steve sighed slowly at a hopeless Bucky, "You have a place here, is all I'm saying. You have someone who'd jump out of a plane without a parachute into a Nazi stronghold to get to you. You have a home– if you want it." He shrugged back.
Bucky shook his head a little. "I just…you have to stop acting like someday I'll wake up and be the same person I used to be. Please. It won't happen. There's too much…" He looked away.
"I'm not waiting for you to 'wake up,'" Steve shook his head, "I know you're not the same person, I felt that the first time I saw you were alive. And I'll tell you again, and again, and again, I can be there for you. Just let me. I can take it." He said.
"Can you, Steve?" Bucky asked. "Where's the line that you won't cross? If I tell you about something I did, are you going to push me away and condemn me for it? Can you take knowing what I've done and been?"
"Yes," He nodded almost enthusiastically, "There isn't a line– I don't know. I'm not going to push you away, you're a part of me– a part of who I am. I need you in my life, I need you to be okay." Steve frowned a bit, wondering why he hadn't said these things before Bucky had gone. Before he'd gone off to war, before he fell from the train. "I can take it."
A muscle twitched in Bucky's jaw, and he turned away for a moment, swallowing. "I still don't think you understand." He muttered.
"I think you know I understand– but don't want to believe it. I understand what I'm asking from you." Steve said, watching bystanders idly strolling past them. Two men arguing in the middle of New York was a common scene not worth paying attention to. "I know what I'm getting myself into."
Bucky shook his head again. Thinking of the nightmares he had had every night that fled when he awoke. He didn't know what to do about that.
Steve watched Bucky's troubled eyes– he was lost. After a silent moment between them, he decided it might be best if they went someplace better than a random street corner to talk about this. He looked around them, "Maybe we should go somewhere else."
Bucky shrugged a little. "Like where?" He replied slowly, looking at Steve for a moment, then away again. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
"I don't know," Steve said, turning on his heels, trying to think of a place they might have to talk, "There?" He suggested. An old church stood where Steve gestured, probably quiet, it's stained glass windows were boarded up, but the sign said all were welcome, so maybe that included ex assassins and lab rats.
Bucky snorted softly. "I don't think they want things like me in a church." He replied, shaking his head. He shifted, eyes flickering around carefully.
"C'mon," Steve ushered softly, "Maybe this is what we need. A safe place." He shrugged lightly, it had been decades since he'd been to church, and it wasn't something he planned on doing again, but it felt like the right place to go now.
Bucky shrugged a little. He finally followed Steve inside the building, arms crossed uncomfortably. He sighed quietly, raking a hand through his hair.
The church was empty, thankfully, and the darkened lighting of the place was almost comforting to Steve. He took a seat in one of the long pews and stared at the statue of a praying Mary ahead. "I always found it interesting that so many people, so many problems, and so many different stories all find comfort in the same place. This place– it has power over them, somehow."
