Epilogue

(Steve) 

I bring Bucky directly home from New York. He doesn't want to see any doctors, and I don't think the physical damage is bad enough to need one, anyway. I drop Sam off at his own house, and without his voice to fill the gaps, the silence between me and Bucky is stifling. 

We were in a good place before Tony's party, and now I don't even know where we are. We shouldn't have gone. I shouldn't have let Bucky bully me into going. I should have put my foot down, told him I had a bad feeling, told him we weren't going. But I didn't do any of those things. I let my guard down, and I let him fall right back into the hands of Hydra. 

It doesn't even matter that we got him back. It doesn't matter that we saved him before things could get too bad. We were too late, and now Bucky is right back where he started. 

I can't tell if he's mad at me for pointing a gun at him– or for not pulling the trigger. In fact, I don't even know if he's mad at all. 

He's quiet, I know that. Not long after we got home, he fell asleep on the couch. He's awake now, but he isn't saying anything. He's just watching me bustle around the house, cleaning up the mess I made when I went a little crazy trying to find his tracker. 

"Steve?" he finally speaks up, though in a quiet voice. His voice is raspy, like he's somewhere on the verge of losing it. He probably is; he was screaming a lot when we found him, which probably tore up his vocal cords.

"Yeah, Buck?" I pause my cleaning to give him my full attention. 

"I can feel him," he says vaguely. "Hear him." 

"Who?" I ask, though I'm pretty sure I already know the answer. "The Winter Soldier?" 

He nods, looking up at me with tired eyes. He doesn't look worried or scared; he's just exhausted. 

"I think that's just how it's gonna be now," he theorizes softly. "Me and him together, all the time." 

I nod, but I don't say anything or ask him any questions. 

I guess there's nothing wrong with it being like that from now on. The Winter Soldier hasn't been a threat in a long time. He's just kind of been dormant. 

Maybe it's better this way. I won't have to wonder who I'm talking to at any given moment, and he won't have to worry about losing himself. 

It doesn't matter what I think, though. If he doesn't like it this way, if he wants to do something about it, then I'm going to let him make that choice. He doesn't get to make many of his own choices, so this one's gonna be his. 

When I neglect to respond, he mistakes my silence for disappointment and casts his gaze downward. 

"Is that okay?" he asks. 

"It is if it's okay with you," I tell him. "But if it's not... Whatever you want to do, I'm with you, okay?" 

Even if it's a choice I don't like, this isn't one I get to argue with. If he's ready to go, then I have to let him go. I've kept him here for far longer than I probably should have. 

"It's okay," he decides. "I think I'm good like this." 

"Yeah?" 

He nods, a small smile gracing his features. "Yeah." 

The End

(After four years it's finally here: the end. I know it was kind of abrupt, and probably not very good, but I wanted to get it finished before I end up abandoning it. Honestly, I don't really remember where I was going with this fic. I only started making story notes recently, and those stories aren't even for this account. I'm sorry if this ending is a letdown for anyone, but I think it's sweet, so this is it. Thank you for reading.)