Chapter Text
Becca knocks on their door barely three days after they return to Brooklyn to invite them to dinner at the Barnes' house.
Steve is home alone, Bucky has gone out somewhere, probably to greet the rest of his friends, because Bucky has always been much more sociable than Steve, and Peggy is somewhere with Stark, and it's definitely not the same apartment they lived in before Bucky was sent to Europe and Steve went to New Jersey for basics. Bucky had no idea Steve wasn't in New York anymore, and Steve wasn't too worried about their tiny apartment, which barely had functional heating. He just packed up the few things they'd managed to accumulate during the time they'd lived there and left them with Bucky's parents, and then forgot about the whole apartment and didn't even think about it during his stay in Europe. Neither he nor Bucky had ever had much love for the apartment.
This is a completely different apartment, which Howard Stark helped them find when Peggy mentioned to him that they were returning to Brooklyn. It is slightly larger – two bedrooms instead of just the one, a small kitchen, a private bathroom instead of a shared one. Just a few streets from where he and Bucky lived before they left New York. Steve feels that this is the right thing to do. That he lives elsewhere, in a different apartment. The whole of Brooklyn has changed since Steve had last been here – people are happier, still in the midst of the victory celebrations, happy to watch more and more soldiers return every day. The two of them, he and Bucky, aren't the same either.
Even Becca looks different, older and more mature. Hardened by life. "Steve," she smiles at him anyway when he opens the door for her and invites her in. She looked him over openly, from his shoes and then across his body to his face, and Steve reminds himself that this is the first time Becca sees him since he left Brooklyn. She had never seen him like this before, like Captain America, all big and healthy. Steve is suddenly stupidly nervous as he waits for her reaction, even if only for a moment, because why should he be insecure? Becca is practically like his younger sister.
Becca does not disappoint. First she fixes her gaze on his eyes, and then she smacks her lip a little with amusement. "I must admit that when Bucky wrote us about how you've changed a bit, I didn't expect this," she says.
Steve blinks in surprise. "Bucky wrote you about me?" He laughs faintly at the idea that Bucky wrote home, to his family, warning them that Steve looked a little different now. Was it because he didn´t want them to be surprised? Did he want them to have a chance to think about what they would say to him? To give them chance to even recognize Steve on the street?
Becca snorts softly. "I think he just wanted us not to stare at you with our mouths open when we see you," she tells him in amusement, and follows him into the small kitchen. She sit down on one of the hard chairs, and while Steve´s preparing tea, she calmly continues. "He also sent us a few pictures – newspaper clippings, though I can't imagine where he could have gotten them, and of course we've heard all about Captain America here, but..." He shrugs, "It's a little different to hear about it and then see it for real, you know."
Steve frowns thoughtfully at that, but he doesn't really have the slightest idea what to say to her. He himself will never forget how he suddenly saw the world from a completely different perspective – how he was suddenly not up to the shoulders of others, but could look them straight in the eye, how he was suddenly often even taller than they were, so much more physically fit than he´d ever expected himself to be. He remembers standing in the middle of the street, shaken by the fact that he could run, that he could hold his breath for long enough to dive, that he could do things he couldn't even imagine before. When he realized that he had to be careful if he didn't want to hurt someone unintentionally, just because he was suddenly so much stronger than he had ever been before.
He'll never forget how special it felt to him to be able to put his arm around Bucky's shoulders instead of the other way around, helping him get away from a burning factory, to be able to take Bucky in his arms and pick him up and carry him to safety without being out of breath, when Bucky didn't manage to dodge a blow to the head and they needed to get him away while he was unconscious.
"Yes," Steve finally agrees, his voice slightly hoarse. "It's strange, isn't it?" he asks, laughing a little stifly. Only briefly, because then he realizes how unnatural it sounds, and he stops. Steve has never been very adept when it comes to social interactions — when it comes to interpersonal relationships of any kind, really — but this is Rebecca, Bucky's baby sister. A girl who would run past him as she was preparing to go out, half-dressed and with unkempt hair, almost like Steve was just another one of her siblings. The girl Steve would sometimes hold by the hand when she was allowed to go out with them because Becca was so small, and he and Bucky were afraid of losing her somewhere along the way. She's basically like his own sister, just an adult now. Older and more experienced and with a life of her own, not the girl who would run after them because she wanted to join in on their fun. And Steve looks at her now, after all the eternity of not seeing her, and he has no idea how to talk to her, what to say to her, surprisingly nervous.
Becca smiles crookedly and instead of answering, she just raises her eyebrows in amusement, like she is reading his mind.
The room is quiet for a moment, and they both sip their tea slowly before Becca puts her cup down on the table, her fingers still clenched around the hot porcelain. "What did Bucky say when he first saw you like that?" she asks him curiously, her forehead furrowed.
It's not pure curiosity, Steve realizes in surprise. Becca is worried, for whatever reason.
Steve hesitates for a second or two about what to say to her. Bucky wasn't in the best of places when he first saw Steve like this, half convinced that Steve was just a hallucination or some stranger who happened to wear his best friend's face. That's what Bucky told him, reluctantly, a few months later, in the dark, after an attack on one of the European bases and lots of alcohol. Steve would never forget his expression, the way he looked absent when he was talking about it. About how he didn't think he would get out of there.
He's not sure how much of this Bucky plans on telling his parents, let alone his younger sister. He doesn't even know for sure if Becca has any idea that Bucky was in captivity and what happened to him there, what they did to him. "Didn´t say much at first," he says carefully, watching her expression, waiting to see if she'll ask exactly what happened (what exactly did Bucky tell them?), and when she doesn't, he doesn´t bring attention to it. "But when he was sure he wasn't just dreaming it, he pulled me aside so we wouldn't be in plain sight, and he… well, he actually yelled at me quite a bit." He smiles in amusement at the memory, how Bucky had first stubbornly marched back into the camp at his side, provoking applause because he wanted Steve to be recognized for what he'd done, and then, at the first chance he got, grabbed Steve's arm, his grip so tight it hurt, and dragged Steve somewhere where no one could hear him calling the great Captain America an idiot for letting people experiment on him. (Finally, when he calmed down a little, he grabbed Steve's shoulders and hugged him, breathing sharp, his lips on Steve's temple as he muttered something so softly that Steve couldn't understand him even with his suddenly practically perfect hearing.) "You know Bucky. He never liked it when I did stupid things."
Which is a very, very subtle way of saying that Bucky would always freak out when Steve didn't think for a moment.
"Well, I definitely remember that." Becca snorts in amusement. "He's always hated the way you rush into everything." She looks hesitant to really laugh, but then leans forward slightly, her hands folded up in her lap, and looks surprisingly serious. "Steve, you know why Bucky hates it so much when you dive into things, don't you?" she asks him suddenly. She watches his expression carefully, and Steve isn't sure what his face looks like right now, but Becca frowns disapprovingly. She reaches across the table to take his hand, and Steve tries to remember the last time she touched him like this. Certainly before he went to war. Probably when he came to tell them that he had been accepted after all and that he was heading for basics. "Bucky never thought you were weak. You do know that, don't you? He´s not like this because he thinks you're weak. Bucky always thought of you as the strongest person in the world. But you know how he is with the people he cares about."
Becca just raises her eyebrows at him, knowing full well that she doesn't have to explain to him how Bucky treats the people he cares about. Bucky loves people – his family, his friends. Steve has known him almost all his life. And he's not a complete idiot either. Bucky has always been protective of the people in his life. He always tried to understand and support them, no matter what. He would help them if he could. He would never leave them.
He didn't talk about it much, because Bucky wasn't like that either. He didn't use soft, sensitive words, he always preferred to joke, even when something serious was going on. But his hands were always careful and tender when he tended Steve´s wounds, strong when he helped him to his feet, warm when he squeezed his shoulder and smiled at him. Always kind and caring, no matter if it was Becca and her scrapped knee, Steve and his broken nose, or Dugan and his stupid and completely unnecessary hangover.
Steve laughs softly. His throat is tight. "Yes," he agrees, his own voice sounding a little wet. Bucky loves people, with an intensity that is borderline scary sometimes. "I know how he is with people."
She stays quiet, for almost forever, while Becca calmly drinks her tea with a serene expression.
And Steve just can't stay silent any longer, because Bucky's expression as he hung by his hand from the moving train is still waking him up from his sleep. Screaming. "He almost died," he announces, his voice trembling. He doubts Bucky told his family that, and he probably should keep quiet about it. He shouldn´t trouble Becca, of all people, especially now that it's all over, but he needs to tell someone, and Becca... Becca is Bucky's sister. Becca understands what it's like to worry about Bucky.
Rebecca turns her gaze sharply to him, her eyes wide. The cup trembles in her hands and she quickly puts it back on the table, because she doesn´t want to spill it. "What?" she asks him, shaken. Her face is pale.
Steve blinks sharply, Bucky´s panicked scream forever locked in his head. "It was one of our last missions," he tells her, almost seeing the white, snow-capped mountains and a fast-moving train in front of him. HYDRA agents, dressed all in black. Zola. Bucky's face when he said this isn´t a retribution, I hope, as they stared at the tracks, partly hidden by snow, Bucky, with his shield, as he stood in front of him, just before the explosion tore open the wall of the carriage and threw Bucky out, into the icy air. Steve was trembling with terror, scared he won´t be able to save him as he reached out to him, shouted his name so loudly that he went almost hoarse from it, just to drown out the roar of the wind. How afraid he was that Bucky might be too far away as he reached out to him.
He clenches his eyelids briefly as he remembers how he's been lying on his back on the carriage´s floor, Bucky half-draped across his body, his face buried in Steve's shoulder as he breathed hard, shaking all over.
Steve forces himself to stay in the present. "I'm not allowed to talk about it, it's still classified," he admits reluctantly. It's still a secret. Steve can talk about how they helped liberate some of the concentration camps, because everyone knows about them now. If he wanted, he could talk about how they would raid HYDRA bases, but he couldn't talk about anything specific — the specific missions, where exactly the bases were located and what they found there, Zola. Certainly not about what Zola had told them about bombs heading in all directions, and how they had just stopped Smidt at the last moment. Steve doesn't know if they'll ever be able to talk about it. It may just stay classified forever. "But..." he continues stubbornly, even though he weighs every word so as not to give too much away. "On one of the last missions, I was hit and I was left lying on the ground. Bucky stood in front of me to protect me, just like he always did."
Becca stares at him, her eyes terrified. Her chin is trembling as if she is about to cry, but instead she just takes a shaky breath and nods slowly. "And he almost died," she repeats the same words he used before. "Of course," she mutters, smiling unexpectedly at Steve. "That sounds exactly like something Bucky would do."
Steve won't say how terribly scared he really was. He won't say how tightly he held Bucky after, his fingers painfully clenched in the fabric of Bucky´s coat when it was all over and they were laying on the floor, half-frozen in the torn wagon, until Jones appeared to tell them they'd captured Zola.
Steve just nods.
Becca lowers her eyes to the half-empty mug of what is now probably cold tea and takes a few long breaths in and out again to calm herself. When she looks up at him again, she's still pale, but she looks a little calmer. Steve thinks that it probably helps that the war is over, that her brother has returned home, shaken and darker-eyed, but alive. Sadder and maybe quieter then he used to be, but alright. Alive and well, which is so much more than many, many other families can say about their sons and brothers and husbands.
As horrible — terrifying, painful — as what Steve just told her was, Becca wasn't there when it was happening, and she manages to keep a little distance. Bucky went to war, and then he returned home. Bucky is fine. He´s safe.
She wasn´t there when Bucky was hanging by one arm from the moving train, with an abyss beneath him. Steve is glad she wasn't there.
"I got married, you know," Becca announces suddenly and Steve looks at her in surprise. Becca is still a little taken aback by what he told her, and her voice is weak, but it seems she decided to simply accept that Bucky survived and is home now, and she wants to change the subject. Maybe seeing whatever Steve had in his face was enough for her to decide to steer their conversation somewhere else, into less dangerous territory. Something pleasant. At least for now. Steve is sure there will be more questions as she gets used to Bucky being home again. "I married Frank," Becca continues, and the smile on her face is surprisingly soft and far away. Becca is kind, yes, but she's also direct and reasonable, sometimes even harsh if necessary. Sometimes violent, never afraid to say what she thinks. Steve isn't used to seeing her smile like that.
"Frank?" Steve repeats after her, frowning slightly as he wonders who she´s talking about, before he remembers the tall blond guy who used to occasionally wander around, always with a smile on his face when he looked at her. "Bucky's friend Frank?"
Frank was one of those not sent to Europe, because of his health. Extreme short-sightedness. He would be useless at the front.
Becca laughs. "I started spending more time with him when you and Bucky both left for Europe." She shrugs. "I like him. He's really nice when he's not acting like an idiot," she announces with a crooked smile, and Steve laughs in surprise.
"I´m happy for you," Steve says sincerely, and Becca smiles at him, broad and bright. Then she gets serious again. She scans his face with a scrutinizing look, like she wants to make sure she doesn´t miss any hind of expression flickering in his face.
Steve frowns in confusion.
Becca raises her eyebrows. "Bucky said you found yourself a girl?" she asks him, her expression serious. She stares at him with her eyes narrowed, trying to find something in his face. Like she wants to read it.
Steve feels his cheeks flush and he almost wants to scold himself for it. It's so ridiculous that he should be blushing now that he's talking to a girl he's always known, when he wasn't shy while standing on stage in front of hundreds of people, in a stupid costume. Almost stupid that he should blush just because he's talking about a woman he cares about.
"Her name is Peggy," he nods. He can't help smiling himself.
Becca looks at him thoughtfully for a few seconds longer, watches his absolutely stupid expression. Her shoulders drop. "At seven o'clock in the evening, on dot, this Friday," she tells him, her voice firm and a little strange. "Dinner at my parents' house, no excuses other than death are accepted. And bring her with you."