Old Soul (Captain America/Steve Rogers)

21

<Narrator's Pov>
Director Fury and Steve walk down a long, almost never ending hall, far away from the life-filled central of S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters.

"Cap, I don't know about this," Fury says, shaking his head as they walked.

"Yeah? Well I never knew about you putting Barnes in confinement, but I hold my peace," Steve stammers back, striding down the hall with purpose.

Fury chuckles lightly. "You tolerate this. You practically declared war on the matter of Barnes' situation."

Steve shifts his shoulders uncomfortably, looking down at his hands with his thumbs hooked through his pant loops. "He's my best friend," he mumbles, still looking down. "I can't loose him again."

Fury gives Steve a long, pitiful, side-glance, leaving the conversation there. Knowing that this was a touchy subject for him, Fury didn't press on.

After walking for a minute more, they stop at a metal door, Steve's jaw clenching as they stare upon it.

Fury exhales, sending Captain an exasperated look before taking out his key card, sliding it into the slot.

As soon as the door let out a little beep, signifying that it was unlocked, Steve stepped forward, eagerly walking into the room.

Beyond the door was a large expanse of room, which would actually made a claustrophobic person comfortable. There was a bed, tables, chairs, pillows, blankets-it was like a hotel suite.

But Steve still didn't like it. He didn't like how S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't trust him, he didn't like how they are holding him in confinement until they think he can be released, and he didn't like how they overestimated him. Bucky was just a soldier, like Steve was, and without Hydra he's just a confused, lost fighter without a target, or reason.

Steve warily walks into the room, looking about the place for him. His eyes caught him in the corner, were he usually was. He didn't sit in a chair, just on the polished wood floor, hugging his knees to his chest.

"Bucky," Steve sighs, a stabbing feeling in his chest.

Bucky's head snaps up to face him, recognition but confusion in his eyes.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" his rattled voice croaked, the sound bringing tears to Steve's eyes.

The way Hydra brainwashed him was much stronger than Steve anticipated. Every day Steve visits him, it's the same thing, over and over: "Bucky." With the reply, "Who the hell is Bucky?"

"Bucky," Steve says again, his weak knees hurriedly walking towards him.

"Rogers," Fury warns, to which Steve batted away.

But as Fury says this, Bucky's eyes flick up to him, the recognition suddenly overpowering the confusion.

"Who are you?" he asks Steve, to which Steve was surprised. This was a new sentence, for from here Bucky broke down in psychotic nerve tears.

"My name is Steve," Steve says, bending down, a light, gentle smile on his face. "Steve Rogers."

Bucky looks at him, his face leveled with Bucky's, for a long, deciding minute. But then he looks for to long, his head snapping in the other direction.

"D-Do you," Steve fumbles when he doesn't reply. "Do you know who I am?"

Bucky doesn't look back up at Steve, but Steve leans closer, noticing moisture glisten on his cheeks. Steve furrowed his eyebrows in sorrow as a tear fell from Bucky's eye, a tear falling from his as well.

Bucky let out a heartbreaking sob, his body shaking. Steve let his tears fall, not afraid to cry in front of his best friend.

"Steve?" Bucky chokes out, his now soft and scared eyes looking at Steve's.