Chapter Text
The notebook sat heavy in the palm of his hand.
It wasn’t a large book or particularly thick, but inside lay the answers he had sought during so long.
“The SWAT team has just been informed about the flat’s location. We’ve got 20 minutes till they arrive. Something new?” Sam asked through the communication device.
Steve looked around the small room. The light bulb in the center was bare and hung down on its white wire, adding to the meager ambiance of the room, which only contained a small mattress, two straight backed chairs and a small kitchen.
“I’ll wait 10 minutes inside the flat. If he hasn’t arrived, we’ll search for him on the other locations Sharon gave us”
“Got it” Sam replied.
Steve paused, looking at the notebook.
There he had a window into his private thoughts...
Did he want to know?
He fingered the cover, tracing the pattern of the name written on it: James. It had been so long since he had seen his handwriting…
His fingers traveled to the two only post it notes used as bookmarks: one of them red and the other grey.
He opened the notebook by the red bookmark.
A photograph.
That was all it took for his emotions to come to his mind like the waves meeting the land.
A photograph of him in his uniform. He focused on the words written next to it: Steve Rogers.
The memories that those words and their meaning awoke weighed heavy.
Steve turned the pages quickly, flipping through them until he reached the other bookmark, before even more emotions soaked his entire being.
He needed his mind clear at that moment.
When he looked at the new page he saw a name written next to some instructions:
“Her name is (Y/N). If I ever have to remember who she is, all I need to know is:
- She is one of the few people that sustain me.
- When I’m not at war with myself, I hear her beautiful voice singing for me
- I belong to her”
And without realizing it, Steve found himself entirely absorbed into the pages of Bucky’s diary.
________________
15th October
The smoke twisted in its artistic way, forming curls in the gloom, illuminated only by the age-speckled bar lights. Along the wall was every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles.
I raised my finger, pointing at one of them.
Some minutes after, my long fingers wrapped around the glass. I eyed the amber liquid and the golden glow of the glass. I raised the glass to sip, feeling the keen burn on my tongue for one last time.
I had already taken my decision and there was no way back.
I tried to forget. I really tried. To leave the past behind.
But I couldn’t.
The guilt sat not only on my chest but inside my brain. It was like gasoline in my guts. My insides died slowly in the toxicity, needing no more than a spark to set it ablaze.
It burnt me out so badly there was nothing left but a shell, an outline of a person.
Their screams and last words would come to me in quiet moments, such as when I was going to sleep or stopped to take a lunch break. It would seep to the foreground of my mind and demanded to be reexamined again.
Each and every victim of the Winter Soldier.
I was tired.
I know that what I had decided to do wasn’t the bravest thing, but it seemed the only solution at that moment.
I put my hand into my jean’s pocket, making sure the gun was still there.
It was.
My thoughts trundled around my brain like a through train. Until I heard some voices next to me.
An old man was talking to the bartender, pointing at something behind them.
“Is she the new singer, Tom?” the old man asked.
“Yeah. It’s her first day. I hope she lasts more than the other one” the bartender sighed.
“I don’t know how you manage to convince people to sing in this wretched bar” the old man smirked.
“There’s always people in need of some money, Joe. But as soon as they are offered something else they leave”
“Who wouldn’t, Tom?” the old man turned around.
That’s when I heard it. From the crowd came a humming sound, dulcets tones creating a slow and wordless melody.
“Let’s see how she does it… It’s been a while since I’ve heard some good singing” the bartender whispered, his attention focused on the stage in front of him.
I couldn’t help but turn around.
The singer looked up from the microphone.
My stunned eyes locked onto her unfamiliar grey ones.
But they just weren’t grey, that term was far too plain in comparison. Her eyes were like storm clouds, swirling with determination and vigor. They glittered in the light but appeared black and cold in the shadows of the scenery.
Beautiful.
(H/C) strands cascaded down her back. Around her face it was cut a little shorter, feathered to accentuate her features.
Her cheeks were rouged and she was dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a grey band shirt.
Absolutely beautiful.
A part of my mind cursed myself for not having noticed her before.
Her eyes scanned the room with determination.
I knew I was still staring at her intensely, but I couldn’t bring myself to look somewhere else.
When our eyes met again, she shot me a smile that could light up the night and before I could think about it, I was already smiling and closing my eyes.
Her voice rolled over the place in sorrowful waves. Then swells of power and lightness rose up in her throat. I couldn’t even tell if it was words that came from her. Her voice was music, and grace, and the haunting feeling of knowing that it was brought out in a fit of pain, desire and happiness.
Unaware of my own heart beating or the rise and fall of my chest, I drifted into a state of utter calmness.
When I finally opened my eyes I looked over the crowd but she wasn’t there anymore.
And that was the moment I realized that her voice had replaced the ones inside my mind.
And, somehow, that was everything.
Even if it had only lasted for some minutes.
...
I strolled into the inky darkness of the alleyway behind the bar. After a quick glance over my shoulder, and one more to make sure, I took the gun out of my pocket.
I felt how the cold and smooth surface touched my temple.
My eyes began to drift close, thought my thoughts didn't.
I decided this long ago, a part of me whispered. But again my finger faltered at the trigger.
Until.
Dulcet tones came from behind.
Her voice was smooth and clear and quiet yet powerful. Soothing in a way. The lyrics swam through my cerebral cortex like a wakeful dream:
“It’s hard letting go… It feels wrong…
My hands and feet are weaker than before…
But wherever there is you… I will be there too…
Because everything will be fine… with your head resting next to mine…”
The notes relaxed me, enabling the song to call my entire being.
I turned around slowly, my hand and the gun lowering until it was placed on my pocket.
I still think about that moment...
Her eyes were filled with a kindness that seemed so innocent and genuine, so endless… as big as the sea.
Maybe I just wanted to do it later, when no one was at sight.
Her eyes were filled with a kind warmth.
Maybe I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
She laid her hand lightly on my shoulder, and instead of flinching like I usually did, I was soothed by it.
Maybe I just needed someone. Some help.
But of course, in that moment, I just thought that the reason was that I didn't want witnesses...
Only as time went by I understood...
She left her hand there and continued singing slowly.
I felt her words calming me, more by the way they were sang than the actual lyrics. It felt as if I were wrapped in a blanket of her caring.
“Your eyes are like smoke: gray and full of heat” my own eyes dipped into the girl’s. It took a second for my words to sink in me. It felt like someone else had just said them.
“Hate to break it to you, Shakespeare, but smoke isn’t full of heat, it’s an effect of heat” she gave me a smile that was just so genuinely sweet that an unexpected warmth rushed through me.
“That works too” my crooked smirk switched to a small smile, letting my words roll out of my lips, “They get darker when you’re angry”
“Like you would notice.”
“Like I wouldn’t.”
___________________
“Five minutes left” Sam announced.
Steve closed the book, breathing heavily. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples, as all the words he had just read sank slowly in him.
He looked around the room, trying to calm the storm of feelings that delved inside of him.
But when Steve’s eyes stopped at the flat’s door, they were met by his icy blue ones.
Buck.