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What... what happened? It...
“Rogers? Rogers! Steve, answer me goddamnit!!”
Buck...Bucky...

*Cap is down! I repeat, Cap is down! I'm taking him back to the–*

*-Sargent Barnes I–*

*-Shut up Iron Face! I'm getting Steve the hell outta here, you of all people should know there's no stopping me!*

Bucky it... it's dark

* I was gonna tell you to get your boyfriend to cover cause the party's coming to you*

*-You really have to stop calling it a party Tony*

*-пасиб  Иатка*

*-Hey no fair! No Russian between the soviet spies! *

It's so dark! Why is it.. Why can't I, no, NO!
“Wow, wow! Steve, stop! You're ok, I've got you!"
"Bucky, what happened??"

"One of those Hydra jerks blasted you with their weird weapon, I thought... but you're ok, I'm–"

"How long was I out? Is it night already?"

"No Steve, no, you–"
"Then why is it dark Bucky? It's so dark! I can't see anything!”Radio silence on the com line.Bucky, who was holding Steve close behind the Cap's shield to protect him, finally took a better look at his face.“Open your eyes wide for me” asked Bucky, and so Steve did.The deep blue of his irises that Bucky loved so much was gone, replaced by a glassy white.“Alright, Steve? Steve, listen to me. I think the blast affected your eyes in... some way. But it's gonna be okay, you'll be okay. We're gonna get you out of here, I promise. Though first...”
* Sam, I need to go ice the sons of bitches who did this, can you take St– *
"No!!” shouted Steve, grabbing Bucky by the calf. He couldn't see that Buck had stood up, and so when he crouched back down to face him, Steve awkwardly patted air until Bucky understood and took his hand.“No, don't. Please, don't leave me alone, I need you here."
"Ok champ, I'll get you back myself. But I can't carry you, you're gonna have to run with me. I'll be on your right..."

"that's good, I'm used to be on the left."

*I heard that Cap!*
"Good, at least you still have your sense of humor, there's hope! Now, give me your left arm, I'm gonna strap your shield... there."
*Alaya, I'm gonna need protection. Can you get to us and do your magic?*

*-No problem Sasha*

*-I'll clear the way just in case*

*-Thanks Sam. Tony, can you take that goddamn “party” somewhere else?*

*-Question: How come Cap doesn't “language” you though?*

*-STARK!*

*-wow, ok, calm down Jack Frost! I'm on it.*

*-Natka?*

*-I'm dispatching the rest of them and getting to the party.*
Now that there was a plan in place, it was time to act. Bucky took Steve's face's in his hands, planted a kiss on his forehead, then stood up, taking Steve's hand in his to guide him.“Soldier, up. You already know the terrain: it's a desert, so pretty easy on obstacles, but no cover. Now you're better than me at following orders, so if I say jump...""I say how high. It's ok, you'll be my eyes, I trust you." Steve answers, pressing Bucky's hand in his.They get in position, arms hooked together. Wanda and Sam arrive just at that moment.“3,2,1, RUN!” The mission in itself is a success.The Hydra base is destroyed, all the bad guys are dead, the technology used there has been taken in and the whole team made it.But there's an elephant in the room, or in the plane more precisely: sitting down on the floor in a remote corner, resting his head against Bucky's shoulder, Steve Rogers was injured during the mission.Captain America is blind.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“What do you mean “you don't know”?? Doctor Cho, you got a fucking metal arm attached to me!"
"Bucky, be nice."
"I am! Ok, I'm sorry doctor, but...ugh.. HOW can you not know?”Steve has been under observation in the New Avengers facility's medical wing for a whole 24h, and his sight is still not back, which kinda gets me slightly on edge.The fact that I haven't slept during any of these 24h doesn't help either I guess.“Bucky, did you take your meds?” Or the fact that I haven't taken my meds.“Steve, you don't need to worry about me okay? You're the one who got his star-spangled ass in a hospital bed."
"I'm worrying about myself actually! If you haven't taken your meds and go berserk cause you haven't slept EITHER, then I won't be able to defend myself."

"Ha. ha. Very funny, smart ass."

"James Buchanan Barnes, you are going to take your meds and get some rest. Or I'll call Wanda so she can mind-control you into doing so!"

"Alaya would never do that to me."
"You wanna bet?” he asks.Which I would normally find funny and give him a very sarcastic look. But right now he's looking in the wrong direction, his eyes gazing at the air in front of him instead of me, which makes the whole situation much less fun.“Mr Rogers is right Mr Barnes. You should go take your medication and get some sleep. There's a room–"
"You know I'm not leaving his side Doc, so do you have spare meds here or should I ask someone to go get mine from home?"
"Of course we do. I'll have a nurse bring it to you. As for Mr Rogers, I wish I could do more, but the eye and optic nerve are very sensitive things and unfortunately the Cradle has its limits... when I'm not under some kind of strange hypnosis. But the serum should do its job by itself, though we do not have any kind of similar injury history to compare the healing rate to. It could take days... Or more. As I said, I don't know. I'm sorry”I take Steve's hand in mine, which he squeezes slightly."I propose that we take another scan tomorrow in the afternoon, and if there's no change, you can go home. There is no need for you to stay stuck here. I'll schedule regular scans to check for improvement, but in the meantime you should better be in a familiar environment.""Thank you Doctor." As Dr Cho exits, the nurse enters with my meds, followed by Natka and Sam. Stark and the others had visited a bit earlier.“Here are my two favorite fossils!""Cause you know any other sassy ass grandpas?" Sam says, smirking.“How are you holding up Rogers?” Natka asks Steve while I swallow my pills“Well, there's definitely room for improvement. But I could also be dead, so...""Don't say that, Buck's gonna have a heart attack!" says Sam, half joking half serious. Natka walks a bit away from the bed and beckons me to join her. I have trouble leaving Steve, even for five minutes, but her look doesn't give me any choice.“I'll be back in a minute pal, Sam's staying with you" I say reassuringly before walking over to Natka.“I know Cap's been the one injured, but how are you doing Sasha? Knowing you, you haven't slept the whole time..."
"It's fine, I've been awake for longer than 24h during... missions."

"Yeah, but back then you were a super spy pumped up with some weird Hydra serum. I know you want to take care of Steve, but Sasha, you won't be able to do that if you don't take care of yourself."

"Yeah yeah, I know... I just... I can't stand this. I'm sure he's hiding two third of what he's really feeling."

"Knowing him, probably, yes. Just like you would. Dr Cho told me you're taking him home tomorrow. Promise me to call me or Sam or whoever if you need help."

"Yeah..."

"Sasha, I know you. Don't “yeah” me."

"Ok, yes. I'll call."
"Now go back to your boyfriend." she says, patting me on the shoulder.They finally go, leaving Steve and I alone, which gives me the occasion to climb on his bed.“Scoot over, you giant."
"Ok"
"To your– No, it doesn't matter." He moved to the wrong side, but I walk around the bed and climb in before taking one of his hand in mine.“How are you really doing honey?
"I'm alright."

"Steve. It's me. You don't have to lie."
"Well... I'm... I'm a bit scared." he admits, intertwining his fingers with mine. I put a hand behind his head and tilt it downwards a bit to plant a soft kiss on his forehead, before putting my own forehead against his, my thumb rubbing his nape.“It's gonna be ok. I'll take care of you, no matter how long it takes, I'll be there. And don't forget, your sight will come back. So there's light at the end of the tunnel"
"Thank you Bucky."

"You don't have to thank me, it's normal. I... I love you."
"Pet names are fine, but still have trouble with this one, don't you?" he says, a small smile on his lips“Shut up.""Love you too jerk.”**********************************
I'm in the dark. Like a pitch black night that never ends. I hear things, I feel things, but can never grasp what is really happening. It's frustrating, on top of being scary.

This is not the kind of thing you are prepared for, ever. Losing all landmarks, all that makes anything “familiar”. It's not something you think might happen, because sight, like any other sense you're born with, is taken for granted.

But now that it's gone, I truly realize everything I'm missing. I can't draw anymore, or watch a movie, I cannot look at the rising or setting sun, or read until late in the night.

I cannot see Bucky's face anymore. And I think this is what I miss the most. To not be able to look into his beautiful eyes, see him smile or do his cocky eyebrow look. Not taking a peek at him when he focuses on a task and bites his lower lip, or looking at his nape when he pulls his hair up in a bun. Not seeing him surprised by a new taste or happy about something he discovered. I might even miss his silly bedroom eyes.

Right now Nat and Sam are here, asking me how I'm doing. Of course I tell them that, you know, it could be worse. I mean, it could, but... god this is already so bad.

“I'll be back in a minute pal, Sam's staying with you” I hear Bucky say. Yes, ok, breath, Sam's here, talking to me. And Bucky's not leaving, he's surely gonna go talk to Nat in a corner. Yet I immediately feel abandoned. Sam is my buddy, and the last time I ended up in a hospital he was there to look after me.

But I can't help it, I need Bucky. He's the only one who can make me feel safe right now.

Sam and Nat leave, which finally gives him an occasion to climb on my bed. He asks me to scoot over, which I do... but not on the right side. It annoys me to be so helpless, because I know it pains him, which is the last thing I want to do.

“How are you really doing honey?"

"I'm alright."

"Steve. It's me. You don't have to lie."
"Well... I'm... I'm a bit scared.” I say. The truth being, I'm fucking terrified.

I'm completely lost and I can't stand to be away from him for more than a few minutes right now, because the whole world has disappeared from view and he feels like my only tether to it. But I can't say that. So I try and deny it.

He gives me a kiss on the forehead before resting his on mine, his thumb gently rubbing the back of my neck. He says he loves me, stuttering a bit still, which I find adorable. A few months ago I would have thought it was tragic, because I knew it was still his Hydra conditioning which kept him from expressing feelings.

Now it's simply because he's Bucky, and he's never been good at saying those actual words. But he largely makes up for it through his actions, always caring, always paying attention, always protective. Even over-protective sometimes.

“Love you too, jerk” I answer. I carefully lift one of my hand towards what I think is the space in front of my face, where his should be. And I find it. Ok, maybe the landing was a bit awkward, nearly putting a thumb in his eye, but I found it, I found him.

I let my fingertips feel his cheek, which is slightly scruffy, meaning he hasn't shaved since he's been here. I can also feel his hair on the back of my hand, so I know it's down. I move towards the center, touching the tip of his nose, and find his lips. I feel him smiling as I caress them with my thumb. Trying to follow where it is positioned, I slowly lean down to find his mouth, which is when he comes up to meet me halfway, making the whole process easier.

It's a gentle, sweet kiss, the kind that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Will you sleep in the bed instead of next to it tonight? Please."

"No problem. Let me just go get the lights.” I feel him getting off the bed, but can't hear him until he switches the light off. I guess a super spy training never really leaves you. He gets back, crawling under the cover this time.

“Here, press the button on the bottom to recline the bed” he says as he put the control in my hand. I feel for the bottom button, press it and behold, the bed is reclining. I leave the remote on the side and am laying down awkwardly.

“Bucky, can I..."

"Of course honey. Wait, c'mere” He guides me as he first put his arm under my neck, then cradles me towards him with his metal arm, letting my head rest on his chest while he starts softly playing with my hair.

“Good night Steve."

"Good night Bucky.”

I can hear his heart, and right now it's the most reassuring sound I've ever heard.

...................

I wake up, startled and breathless, in the middle of the night, or at least I think it is.

Because anytime time of the day will be the middle of the night from now on.

Sitting up, I try to calm down and listen: I can't hear any agitation or people walking around. Only the hum of the machine checking my vitals, meaning it must still be night time.

I'm not able to hear Bucky breath though, and in my situation, his stealth reflexes do not help. I feel around for his body, finding his leg.

"Steve? What is it?"

"I... I don't know, I just... woke up."

"Did you have a nightmare?'

"No, no..."

"If you don't wanna talk about it, it's alright. But you gotta go back to sleep baby, you need to rest."

I hear him move and he sits up next to me, patting my head and putting his arm around my shoulders. He lays back down and takes me with him, his arm still around me.

“Bucky?"

"Yes?"

"....no, nothing"

...........

“Bucky?"

"Yes Steve?"

"......"

"I'm here ok." he says, resting his metal hand on my shoulder, the other one caressing my neck

“You can feel me, I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Now go back to sleep."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Steve is just out of the scanner and, as expected, no improvement. Nothing. So, as suggested by Dr Cho, and after everyone said bye, I'm taking him back to the apartment.“I'm taking you home, ok champ?""Yes. Please”I can hear the discouragement in his voice. Come on Barnes, do something, say something.“And I mean, it's about goddamn time, cause you're starting to stink!"
"Way to lift up my mood."
"Thanks, I do what I can. Now put your arms up so I can help you with your t-shirt”Once he's all dressed, we walk to the elevator. Mr I-can-do-it-all-by-myself has decided he didn't want to be pushed in a wheelchair or to use a cane, but instead walks with me having to guide him so that he doesn't bump into every wall possible. Natka is waiting for us downstairs with a car to drive us back. I try to guide him to the carseat, but he insists on doing it by himself.“I'm not a baby, I can climb in."
"Ok, but, mind your he–"

"Ouch! Shit!"
I can't help but think "I told you so!", though Steve doesn't need more frustration right now."Steve, stop being a stubborn fossil please, just let him help you.” After Natka's intervention, he finally lets me help him in the back seats and I follow.
“Sorry, I don't want you to feel like a chauffeur, but I'd rather..."

"It's ok Sasha, I understand."
"Thanks Nat.” Once we've arrived home and the door is closed, I hear Steve let out a long sigh. It must be exhausting for him, not knowing where to go, what to do or when. We stay like that, standing in the entrance for a moment, before I break the silence:“What do you wanna do?
"Frankly... I don't know."

"Do you want to eat something? I can make coffee..."

"Whichever..."

"Honey, I want to help, but if you go that way–"
"I DON'T KNOW!! Because I don't know what I actually CAN do anymore! I don't even know what TIME it is!!" he says, throwing his arms in the air, and I fear he's gonna punch a wall or break something he'll miss later.I grab his hands, holding them close to my chest, "Hey! Steve, stop! Take a deep breath. I understand you're frustrated and angry, but calm down. It's 5:30pm and you know what you can do? Get in a bath. A good, hot, relaxing bath." 
"Yeah, sorry. You're right... I do kinda stink."
"Come on, this way”I walk with him to the bathroom, turn on the tap, adjust the temperature and take his hand to put it under the water.“Just a bit further... there, is that ok?"
"Yes, thanks Bucky."

"Now, let's get you undressed"

"No. No it's ok, I can do it by myself, it's not like I was paralysed."
"Are you sure?” I'm a bit relieved he can't see my face right now, because he wouldn't like my look of deep concern.“Yes Bucky, go! I can do this by myself, it's just a bath!""Alright alright! Just... shout if you need help." I've got a bad feeling about this, but I can't just force my help on him. And he's the most stubborn guy I've ever met... must be one of the reasons why I fell for him.I go in the kitchen, fixing myself a well deserved drink: a tall glass of cold milk. Then once in the bedroom, I get a tshirt and his favorite sweatpants out, putting them on the bed when I hear a deafening crash coming from next door. Oh no no no no no...I run to the bathroom, open the door and find a scene of chaos: water everywhere mixed with blood, the sink broken in half and Steve laying on the floor, buck-naked and a cut on his arm. “Holy shit, Steve!! What the fuck happened??” I ask as I get to him, making him sit up and putting a towel around his shoulders.“I'm not... I'm not sure, but I think I slipped cause the bath overflowed...""shit!” The water is still running and the bath has started to flood the floor around it. I close the tap and take the plug out to let some water go down the drain, reducing the bath to a normal size.“I tried to stop it but touched the hot water pipe instead, so I jumped back, slipped, and I think I hit the sink when I fell..."
"Yeah. It's broken in half, and you've got a good cut on your arm."
"Oh, so that's what it is." It's killing me. He's been home for 15min and has already managed to burn himself, fall flat on his back and cut himself without realizing it.“I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you."
"Steve, honey, it's fine. You should have, yeah, but I understand why you didn't. Now, we're gonna take care of this cut and finally get you in that bath."

"Hmph, what would I do without you?"
"Like you told me once, die of blood loss. Keep pressure here while I get the first aid kit." I joke while guiding his hand to the towel on his wound. I go get the kit as well as the mop and bucket.After cleaning the cut and putting a bandage, I take the towel off his shoulders“This time you're gonna let me guide you, and no “I can do it myself” bullshit."
"Don't worry, I've learned my lesson"
"Alright then, small steps. We don't wanna destroy what's left of the bathroom" Holding his hand and his good arm, we walk very carefully to the tub. Once there, I help him climb in, directing his feet so he doesn't trip on the edge, then his hands so he finds it and lower himself carefully in the water.“That does feel good"
"I bet it does. You enjoy and I'll be here... mopping the floor."

"I'm so sorry Bucky"

"Don't worry about it. You being that strong has been a real... advantage until now..."

"I bet you're doing your cocky smile and raised eyebrow face right now."

"You know me too well!"

"Cause I know you've got a dirty mind and the mouth that goes with it!"

"Anyway, as I was saying, it's been quite “interesting”, but it has to have some disadvantage. Like breaking the sink in two when slipping and falling."

"I guess so..."
Steve becomes silent while I finish mopping, the only sound being the water he cups up and let run on his neck and shoulders.God, he's so... I don't know, I feel like handsome doesn't do him justice. He's so much more than that, as if his inner kindness, his beautiful soul, was apparent, just underneath his skin, a thin but visible layer. I mean, don't get me wrong, when I look at his fucking amazing body, I have to keep myself from drooling. But when I look at him, when I really look, and see all that he is, I want to kick myself in the ass for waiting so long.I finish moping and, looking around, realize the shower gel is, well, in the shower. I grab it, along with that weird foamy sponge Steve loves, and go sit on the edge of the tub.“You know, just soaking in water isn't actually gonna clean you, right?"
"Well I... I remembered the soap was in the shower and..."
"And you didn't want to ask me, is that it?” He nods, blushing a little, and his wounded pride makes me want to hug him until he forgets all his problems.
“It's ok to ask for help honey. It is, and you have to, because I don't want another “bathroom accident” happening anytime soon, alright?"

"Alright"

"Now, sit up straight"

"What? Why?"

"Because I say so punk! Now sit up!”
I pour a bit of shower gel on the sponge and start rubbing his shoulders, “Oh... no, Bucky... no, you don't have to–""I want to, so just shut up and enjoy." And this is how I find myself bathing Captain America. I bet a lot of people would like to be me right about now. But none of them would love it more than I do.Carefully, I take his hands and lift his arms one after the other, gently cleaning them, (avoiding his dressing), then his chest. I plunge my hand in the water and grab his foot then the other, cleaning his legs, softly, as if he was the most precious thing in whole world. Which he is to me.Soaking the sponge, I then use it to rinse him, bits by bits, letting the warm water run on his skin, wiping the foam left with my flesh hand.Siting next to him, my hand on his shoulder, I have to ask:“Hum... Steve... You gotta wash “down there” too... Do you want me to..."
"I see! You wanna take advantage of your poor blind partner!"
"No, no! It's not that, but, like, it's true, you ha–" before I know what's happened, he's pulled me in the water with him, fully clothed.
“Now you'll have better access"

"you little shit!!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought you needed help to clean me"
"You're lucky to be so cute, or I'd already have strangled you!” He's smiling, even laughing a bit, which I haven't seen him do since the accident. It's only been 2 days, but god did I miss it.  ********** 
After the whole chaotic mess I caused even before getting in the tub, I decide to make some more by pulling Bucky in. I'm not actually able to see it, but I can definitely hear water splashing on the tiles. This bathroom is going to turn into a pond very soon. I'm laughing a bit, which might be the first time since the “accident”, and Bucky is too, despite his pretending to be mad. He's been so good to me, so gentle and understanding, even when I had angry moments. I wonder if he understands. If he understand how angry I can feel inside from time to time, but how I much I need him still. If he knows how much his simple touch matters to me now. Of course it already did before, but it has reached a whole other level. Now that I can't see him, it seems I can feel him even more, as if compensating. When he was washing me I could tell the slightest change of pressure, the polished cold of his metal fingers, the sturdiness of his flesh ones, all the care he put in every movement he made. Now that I have his hand in mine, I remember the shape of his every finger, and not being able to see them makes me even more aware of it. We've stop splashing around like kids and he's simply siting behind me in the warm water, with all his clothes on, putting his right arm around me and letting me play with his hand:

“Give me the other one"

"You know, being blind won't change the fact that it's metal."

"Please Bucky. You should know by now that I don't care. It's a part of you, and I love all of you.”

With a reluctant sigh he slides his left arm around me, his metal hand resting in my awaiting one. This one I know too, but the shapes aren't the same. It's smooth but hard, there is no soft flesh or little pads to press on. Instead it feels like the skeleton of a hand, where you can feel every articulation, every phalange, but that still has the fingers shaped like flesh ones. Bucky doesn't believe me when I say I like it. I've been telling him for months, but he doesn't, because even if it's a new, Hydra-free arm, to him it's still a reminder of what happened for him to become this. I bring both his hands to my mouth carefully, straightening up a bit to make sure I'm leading them the right way, and kiss each one. Then I lean back down against Bucky and get a gentle kiss right behind my ear as I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. After a while, I wonder idly what time it is as I can feel the water turning lukewarm around us.

"Maybe we should get out, the water's getting cold and you're still in your clothes."

"And who's fault is that?" he says, poking me in the side"

"Yes yes, I know, but I don't want you to catch a cold because I didn't want be alone in the bath."

"Honey, do you really think a guy who's been called the "Winter Soldier" for the last 70 years can catch a cold from tepid bath water?"
"Point well made." I start sitting up to try and get out
"Wow, wait a minute champ! I don't want you to fall flat on your beautiful face this time. Just let me get out first and I'll help you, ok?"

"Yes. Thank you Bucky.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Once he was out of the bath, I took Steve to the bedroom and helped him get in his comfy outfit. Which means helping my naked lover into his clothes and once the towel drops... it's hard not to get distracted.
“God Steve... do you have any idea how handsome you are?"
“James Buchanan Barnes, you're a perv.” I can't help but let a small laugh out.
“No but honey, I really mean it. I wish you could see yourself like I do.”

“Bucky, you know that's exactly what I've wanted you to understand since I got you back”

“I have a goddamn metal arm Steve. We're not in the 30's anymore, there's no accepting I'm even remotely as good looking as you are.”
“Ugh Bucky... you really have no idea, do you?” I know he might be right, but for now me being handsome or not isn't my main concern.“Come on champ, I'm not the one who needs taking care of right now. Sit down, riiiight here, good. Put your feet up a bit. Here, they're both in and I think you can pull your sweatpants up by yourself” he fumbles a bit to get the elastic band then stands and pulls it up.
“Now the t-shirt. I'll put the sleeves in, then I'm pretty sure you can do the rest by yourself, alright?"
"Yes. Thanks for letting me try Buck.” It does take him a minute to figure out where his head should go, and I have to refrain myself from helping, but he gets it right eventually.
“Are you hungry? Cause I've got a little something I've wanted to cook for a while..."

"I'm all ear! What is it?"

"It's a surprise! But how about I sit you down at the bar counter, and I'll chop the ingredients on there, so I'm right next to you."

"Sounds good to me."

"First though, I have something that needs quite some time to cook. Stay right here, I'll just put it on.”
I've had the ingredients to make Khao pat moo on the evening after the mission, Steve's favorite thai dish, but it kind of all went to shit so... I put the rice and cold water in a pot and on the stove. Then go around to the living room to play a record.“What are you doing Bucky?” Steve asks, trying to look around, turning towards the noise I make while putting the record on the turning table.It's Fred Astaire's best songs, and I skip to “The way you look tonight”. The moment it starts playing I see a smile on Steve's lips.
“The old days..."

"Remember when we went to watch it?"

"How could I forget? You were being all manly, saying one day you'd have yourself a wife like Ginger Rogers... Secretly I was completely jealous, even though I wouldn't admit it."

"How cute! Come on then, dance with me."

"Bucky... I'm kinda–"

"You were always a dead hoofer, even when you could see! Plus, I was the one who taught you how to dance before, so I'm used to your clumsiness. I'm sure you can manage a bit of slow dancing though”
I pull him towards me. Guiding one of his hand around my neck, I settle my metal one on the small of his back and hold his other one in mine, nestling it, letting them rest on my chest. After a little while Steve slowly leans in to put his head on my shoulder, nuzzling in my neck. We slowly go in circles, gently rocking from one foot to the other. The music envelops us like a cocoon, protecting us from the outside world, even just for a few minutes.“See, you haven't step on my toes once for now.” I whisper.He quietly laughs before planting a small kiss near my Adam's apple. The song is over, and since it was the last one of the record, the only sound playing now is the noise of the stylus scratching the center of the record. But we stay like this still, close to each other, peacefully swaying to our own rhythm, stretching that perfect moment as much as we can. Unfortunately the bubble has to burst. The rice can't cook for hours, and I have to tear myself away from him.
“Steve, love? I have to start cooking"

"Can we just not eat and stay like this?"

"As much as I would love that, you know I won't let you starve! that's not happening Rogers!"
"Too bad... it's the best I've felt in the last two days” he says with a kind of melancholic expression, which breaks my heart, making me wish I could just magically make it all better somehow.I take him in my arms: “I know a hug won't solve anything, but I'm here with you, you have to remember that. I understand you might feel scared and lost, but I'm by your side. And it will get better soon, just try and focus on that Steve."
"Yes I know..."
"Let's sit you down ok? And I'll start chopping. You can... try and guess what I'm preparing by scent huh!” I tell him in an attempt to have him concentrate on something else.I could swear his sense of smell has gotten better in the last two days. He's like a goddamn blood hound now! As expected, he recognizes all the ingredients, but it's not before he smells the rice being pan-fried with all of them that he realizes what the dish itself is:
“Wait... You're making me khao pat moo?"

"I was supposed to make it the evening after the mission but..."

"It all went south. It's ok. I'm glad you still prepared it, and I can't wait to taste the final product!"

"I even emailed Khun Pet to get the correct recipe"

"Oh dear, that's dedication Bucky! How is he? How's the Leelawadee going?"

"Same old same old, he's ok, and his daughter just got married!"

"That's great news, I'm glad they're doing good. Now, bring it, I'm ready!”
I lay a full plate in front of him with a fork and spoon, the Thai way, then get some water, and finally a serving for myself and settle down at the bar in front of him. Once on my stool I notice he still hasn't moved or touched his plate and looks completely lost...In moments like this I tend to forget. I had to feed him when he was at the hospital, but it's the first time we're back home and eating here, so the reflex of having to help him feed himself isn't, well, a reflex.
“Would you like some help?"

"Could you... just maybe, direct me for the first one or two spoonful?"
"No problem babe.” I get up from my stool, go around the bar and stand behind him, my chest to his back.Taking his hand, I bring it to where the spoon lies: “First, get the spoon by yourself, that much you can do.”He grabs it, and, using both his hands, check that it's the right way up. Clever boy. “I'm gonna take your hand, accompany it to the plate...” I say as I do it, but let him dig in the khao pat by himself.“Great, now, towards your mouth. Open... yes, that's it!!” I say, slightly overjoyed.
“I haven't won the Olympics Bucky!"

"I don't care, let me be happy for you! Alright, we're gonna do it again, but this time I won't guide you as much. Think of it more as... course correction. Also cause I don't wanna have to clean tonnes of rice from the floor."
"Way to encourage your troops sarg' !” I put my metal hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing “Come on Rogers, I know you can do it!” I keep his hand in mine, slightly correcting him when he goes towards the table instead of the plate. One spoonful, and up to his mouth. Well, first it was more towards his nose, but there's improvement.
“Now once more, without any help. And if you succeed without too much spillage... you'll get a kiss"
"There, that's much better incentive!” The spoon to plate part works out just fine. The spoon to mouth... he lands more on his upper lip but notice and corrects it. I couldn't help but laugh a bit.
“Hey, don't make fun of me!"

"Aww honey, you would have laughed too if the situation was reversed"

"Do I still get my kiss?"
"Yes. you're too cute to resist anyway.” I turn his head towards mine and kiss him softly, catching the few rice grains left on his lip.
“Let's eat now, before it turns cold!"
"Yes please, it's delicious Bucky”, he says, but grabs my chin before I move away. With his fingertips he finds my lips and give me a little kiss.**********************
Bucky's dinner is incredible, and I can't remember him ever cooking that well... I guess our trip to Thailand inspired him. On a positive note, I've just learnt how to eat by myself again. On a tad less positive note, it's still very approximative, and so I spill maybe 1/3 of my khao pat moo on the table, my lap and the floor.

“It's okay babe, really. You managed very well for a first time, I'm proud of you alright?” he says before planting a kiss on my forehead.

He leads me to the couch, being careful that I don't bump into the coffee table, and leaves me with some cut-up mango on a plate to eat while he sweeps. I barely hear him walking up to the couch before feeling his body next to me, and I automatically try and get closer. Noticing, he puts his arm around me, his warmth like a late summer afternoon sun: not burning hot but wrapping you in a comfortable glow. The kind of sensation you wish would never stop.

“What do you wanna do champ? I was gonna propose a movie but..."

"If you want to watch one, go ahead. I don't want to stop you from doing stuff honey."

"You're not, I can decide for myself. And what I decided is to ask you what you wanna do."

"Alright alright. I... could you maybe... read to me?"

"I'd love to. I'll go grab your book”

I'm reading T"he Time Traveler's Wife" these days, or at least I was. I love the idea that Henry and Clare, the main characters, have to fight time itself to find each other, to be together. I guess it reminds me of Bucky and I. What also reminds me of us is this longing, the deep yearning they feel for each other when they are separated, remembering each and every little details of one another, just like I do with Bucky.

I know and care for every scar on his body. I love the way he smiles for no apparent reason when he thinks no one's watching. The roughness of his unshaven face, but the softness of his nape, as if somehow his longish hair had protected this spot all these years.

His hair, god I love his hair, every time I tuck a lost strand behind his ear. Or when I shampoo it while we take a shower then towel-dry it. Whenever he combs it back or pulls it into a bun or small ponytail.

I love his way of waking up, face crumpled, grumbling and going back to sleep in a split second, like a cat you'd have disturbed during his nap, ignoring the world around him for just a few more minutes. And I treasure the moment he wakes again and give me that sleepy smile, his eyes barely open, mumbling something like “g'monin” or “helloandsome”.

But now I've lost all that, and I feel lost without it. As if they were all markers of my everyday life that have disappeared to leave me alone in the dark, unable to find the light again.

Bucky's back with the book. He doesn't know it yet, but my “bookmark” is actually a small sketch of him sleeping I made months ago.

“So, page... oh, what do we have here?” I smile sheepishly

“Well, hmmm... I got bored one evening?"

"I'll be nice and just accept that explanation. Alright, so page 221 --Birthday, Clare is 21, Henry is 28-- right?”

Bucky knows I always remember precisely at what page and even at what word I stopped reading. Which is why the bookmark was even more of a surprise to him.

“Yes, towards the beginning, at --I sigh--"

"Ok, got it. --I sigh. Henry loves my hair almost as though it is a creature unto itself, as though it has a soul to call it's own, as though it could love him back. I know he loves it as a part of me, but I also know that he would be deeply upset if I cut it off.--  You know what, I can totally relate to Clare here. I really wasn't expecting you to love my long hair that much."

"What can I say... I don't know, it's just... it's like an extension of yourself, as if there's a bit more of you I guess” He laughs a low and quiet laugh which is like honey to my ears.

Then he keeps reading: “--I look up; Henry looks stricken. I burst out laughing. Henry smiles, a little guilty, but his eyes are twinkling. -It's just– you know, there are days when I can't sit down. -Well... you just have to say. Say ”Not tonight, dear, we've already done it twenty-three times today and I would rather read Bleak House” "

"Now I can relate to Clare on that.” I say

“Oh really?"

"Well, I mean... you're lucky I'm a super soldier, otherwise I would have died of exhaustion already".

"As if you weren't starting half of it..."

"It's true, I admit it... but still, there are days when sitting gets a little... challenging.” We both start laughing, remembering some awkward moments at the New Avengers headquarters...

Then he starts reading again, without interruption this time, save for the moment he helps me rest my head on his lap. Bucky softly caresses my hair while reading, the words rolling out of him like a lullaby which soon has me falling asleep.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

We went to another scan today, as scheduled. It's been a week since the mission and no improvement.

Nothing. Just darkness.

Yet, now that Tony and Bruce have studied the Hydra weapon which was used against me, Dr Cho has a new theory: she says it might be possible that the blast didn't only get to my eyes and optic nerves, but actually all the way to my brain, damaging a microscopic part of it. Unfortunately, microscopic but large enough to affect my sight, which could explain why the recovery is taking so long. But she still couldn't give me any time frame.

Even though I know I will be recovering at some point, even though everyone, especially Bucky, tells me it will get better, that it's not permanent. Despite all that support, all these things I should know and remember, I can't. I can't take any more of this.

They can repeat it as many times as they want, in all the different ways they can find, the outcome is still the same: I'm miserable.

Miserable and lost, the fear still crawling in. Fear of never recovering, fear of being in the dark all my life, fear of losing everything, including myself...

But more than any other feeling, anger is starting to take over. A deep-seated animosity is taking roots in me, little by little like ivy on a wall, the anger being directed at myself, at Dr Cho, or at Hydra... or even at Bucky...

I contain it, I try to control it, but it keeps building up, and at some point it will have to come out.
 ************************* I can still feel Steve going down, becoming bitter, losing a bit more hope everyday, and it's killing me to see him this way.The first few days I could see he was afraid, but he was also pretty sure, as we all were, that the blindness would have been gone in a few days. Yet it's still here, lingering, whereas Steve is going somewhere else. My Steve is fading, bit by bit, leaving behind despair and bitterness, an angry and spiteful ghost of the man I love.It's starting to change him, and my main impression is clear: it's my fault. I keep dreaming about that moment, reliving it over and over again. If only I had paid more attention. If I had been with him. I could have protected him. Or take out that Hydra piece of crap before he hit Steve. There are so many scenarios going through my mind, and the longer it takes for him to heal, the harder it gets not to be eaten up by guilt. I was so close.I talked about it with Sam, while Steve was getting his scan.“Buck, buddy, you can't think like that. I know it's easier said than done, but hear me out: I could have flown to him too. Nat could have jumped in and directed the shield. Hell, Tony's armor could have taken the blast. We all had the occasion to do something. But we didn't because he is Captain America. Because we were on a mission and all had our own thing to do. You can't burden yourself with that guilt, because it is not your burden to carry.”“But... I should have been there–““You were there, and you were fighting like every one of us. But you can't always protect him. I know you somehow believe it's your life's mission to do so, because you two are sappy old fossils who always had each other's back, and now have finally realized they actually are in love. About time if you ask me. But newsflash: it isn't. You have a life to live, things to catch up on, and Steve would kick your ass if you didn't because you were too busy protecting him all the time.”“I guess so... But it just won't leave me.”Sam puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder: “I understand. And I can tell you this: it will go away, at some point it will. You just have to process it, and the best way to do that is to keep focusing on other things. Trying to cheer our Cap up for instance. As I said, you can't protect him all the time, but right now he needs you. He was lost for years, without you, in a strange, unfamiliar world he couldn't escape. And now, with all this going on, he must feel lost again.”“But... what if he doesn't want to be found?”“Why do you think he doesn't?”I don't want to complain, not when Steve is in a way worse situation. But I can see Sam's look: he won't drop it until I talk. So I do:“He's been acting... strange lately. It feels like he's pushing me away. He's sarcastic, but in a bitter way, something he has never been, ever.”“Buck, trust me. If there's one person who can get through and bring him back, it'll be you.”“So... I have to find him.”“In a way, yes.”Once Steve is out, I have an idea. I've been told that one thing he's been doing a lot of, since the serum, is boxing. And of course the New Avenger's headquarters has a gym with several punching bags and other equipment.“Hey, you know what champ?”“No. But please tell.”“I thought we could go upstairs to the gym and train together for a bit!”“I don't know, maybe you weren't paying attention this last week, but I'm blind Bucky.”“Hey, don't go all sarcastic on me Steve, I'm trying to help here.” He puts his face in his hands, letting out a heavy sigh.“Yes, yeees, I know... I'm sorry. It's just... ugh...”“It's alright. Just try and remember that I'm on your side ok?”“Ok.”“So, as I was saying, we could go upstairs and train a little, you haven't punched anything in way too long. And, I mean, I'm sure you can stand in front of a punching bag, can't you?”“Well, yes”“And we can also develop your “locating-by-sound” skills, it could be really useful on future missions!”“I guess so.”“Come on, stop being so sluggish, you giant grumpy thing. Let's go.”We get in the elevator that has my voice ID registered now, and I tell it to go up to the gym. One whole side of the room is a giant bay window, from which I can now see the breathtaking sunset right behind the trees. But Steve can't... just stop thinking about it“Ok, let's start easy, with–““Why easy? I'm not a child Buck”“Steve, I'm sorry you heard it that way, but I never said you were”He looks toward me, unseeing, yet his expression is unequivocal: he's pissed. I won't let him discourage me that easily. Taking his hands, I wrap the white bandages around his wrists, hands, knuckles, slow but firm, my fingers brushing against his skin every so often. Yet it doesn't seem to have the same effect on him as it still did a few days ago, and I'm starting to feel as I'm truly losing him. I don't think he fully grasps how awful this feels to me, losing him again like I did as many times as my brain was fried and rebooted in The Chair.I place him in front of the punching bag:“The bag is right in front of you Steve, you just have to punch,” I say. He does and strongly lands a mean right on it, which is great... only problem is the comeback. I don't have time to warn him before the bag hits him right in the stomach.“Couldn't you have said something?? Maybe a warning of some sort??”“Sorry, really. I didn't see that one coming, I just... I didn't remember–““What? That I've been blind for the last week??”“Hey, calm down honey. It was an honest mistake, and I'm really sorry. I'm gonna hold the bag, alright?”He doesn't answer, only giving me the same expression as before. I go stand behind the bag, holding it firmly while he punches, harder and harder, getting closer, and somehow I start to feel like I'm the target of all that rage. A feeling that hurts more than when he punches one last time and sends me tumbling backwards with the broken punching bag in my arms.“Wow! Easy tiger!”“What? You said I hadn't punched anything in way too long, so I punched.”“Yeah, but maybe you didn't have to punch that hard when you knew I was behind it.”“Sorry, honest mistake.”“You know what Steve? This is getting ridiculous. I'm taking you home. I didn't sign up to be the actual punching bag! I understand that you're struggling, I know it must be terrifyi–““You DON'T! That's the thing Bucky, you DON'T KNOW SHIT!! You don't know how it FEELS to live in a perpetual night, to not be able to eat without spilling food everywhere, to take five minutes to figure out how to put a GODDAMN TSHIRT ON!!!”“Yes, ok, I don't know, but I know how it feels to be helpless and lost, and I'm here to help!”“Well I'm tired of your help!! I'm tired of feeling like a charity case, of being PITIED by everyone!!”“You're not!! I don't pity you, I love you! There's a difference! And that's why I'm here for y–““Maybe you shouldn't!!”The air is knocked out of me. It's like the Earth has stopped turning as my heart skips a beat. Did he just...“Wha...what?”“You heard me. Maybe I'd feel less like crap if I didn't have you around to make me.”“You can't think that...”“Leave, just... go Bucky. I'll ask Sam to drive me back”“Steve...”“and I don't wanna see you there.”“But...”“Leave! GO!!”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sam drove me back to the apartment building and went up to the door with me, all in complete silence. Until he couldn't hold it in anymore:

“Steve. Where's Buck?”

“He's gone.”

If I could see Sam, I'm sure I'd be looking at his characteristic “damn!” shocked face right now. There's a pause, time for him to process the news and for me to clumsily let myself in.

“What?? Buck would never leave you!!”

“I told him to.”

“But... wh–”

“Actually, you should all leave. Just leave me alone. Bye Sam.” I say as I slam the door in his face before he can argue any more. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk at all.

Bucky's gone. I finally did it. Pushed him away. After all these years apart, after finally getting him back, I did it. I lost him again.

And it's all my fault.

Now I'm standing in the hallway, alone, more adrift than I've ever been since this whole ... “thing” started.

I regretted shouting at Bucky the moment I heard the door close behind him. But I also couldn't take it anymore. All the pity and the special treatment and the “be careful”, “what do you want?” and worst of all, “I understand, but it will get better”. Well, guess what, it hasn't.

It's been a week and nothing got better. I was getting so angry, and I still am. My only wish was to be left alone. To be able to simply feel bad. For a moment, not be Captain America, but only Steve, the guy who's become blind overnight and is freaking out. And is lashing out. Because fuck it, I can't take this anymore.
  It never took him that long to heal before, never really had to either. And the few times Steve had ended up with bad injuries, he could actually see them. He could keep himself busy. But this time, all his favorite things were taken from him: no painting, no drawing, no reading, no cooking... I couldn't even take him outside to enjoy the city noises he loves so much.PR handled the whole “Cap is out and proud” shit storm pretty well, meaning we'd been able to go out in the open together, as a couple, without people going ballistic. But showing a blind Captain America in public? Not gonna happen.So he had to spend his days inside, and I tried to keep him occupied, cooking with him, reading to him, watching movies with him, explaining some of the scenes. We even invented a game that started when I cooked Khao pat moo: he had to guess all the ingredients by smell, then guess what dish I was making. But the rest of the time... It was just hard. I could see how lost he was, and still is.Of course, he kinda got used to walking around, he was better at getting dressed and eating by himself, which was good. But for him it also meant he was actually adapting to this, to something that was supposed to be temporary. I think he even started doubting his sight would come back, though he'd never admit it out loud. And all this started brewing inside, leading to resentment, bitterness, then to anger.Which all led to yesterday evening. Which led to me waking up in Sam's flat instead of with Steve this morning.   
Waking up, I don't even know what time of the day it is, and marks of time passing by are lost on me: I can't see if the sun is up, my appetite is nowhere to be found and the only person who could tell me is gone.

One good thing in this century though, is that you can ask your phone. “The time is nine o' one”

I don't know when I fell asleep. Or more like passed out without changing. I don't really care anymore. I consider getting up to try and make coffee, but the task seems exhausting. Grabbing a corner of the duvet, I simply pull it over me and go back to sleep.

*******

“Siri, what day is it?”

“It's Sunday, the fourteenth of August, two thousand and sixteen.”

“What time is it?”

“The time is thirteen twenty-three”

I haven't been hungry for the last two days, living on what I could find in the cupboards and the fruit bowl to feed my metabolism. But now my stomach is starting to ask for real food, sending waves of gurgling noises and cramps. So I simply ask Siri to call our... my favorite Thai restaurant to get take away. I give them my card number, which I know by heart, and tell them to leave the bag on the doorstep, so that I don't have to face the delivery guy. I do not want to see anyone.

Once the food gets here, I stumble to the front door, put my ear to it, making sure no one is in the hall, then open and take the bag inside. I do not even attempt walking to the kitchen to get cutlery and instead go directly back to the bedroom, one hand holding the food and the other one feeling along the wall to make sure I end up in the right room. I walk until my tibias meet with the bed but stop myself from collapsing on it again. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I grab the plastic spoon, open the containers, and eat straight from them, surely spilling rice and bits of pork on the floorboards... doesn't matter. I remember Bucky's khao pat moo... this restaurant's use to be my favorite, until Bucky cooked his when he took me back here. Now this one just feels like a pale imitation with subdued flavours. Finally, I discard the box right at my feet, roughly wipe my mouth then lie down again.

I've taken one of Bucky's t-shirt out of the closet yesterday. Sometimes I feel like he's here, watching over me. Sometimes I wake up and feel for him. Sometimes I even stop breathing and listen intently, as if absolute silence would let me hear a footstep, a floorboard crack, or maybe a breath he'd let out. But he's not here, and I hold his shirt close as I stay in bed. Which is nearly all day long now. I don't truly want to do anything else, and sleep is easy. It takes all the thoughts and problems away, letting time drift by.
   For now he's sleeping, or more like drowsing, even though it's the middle of the afternoon. He started sleeping a lot when he got home, staying isolated, but it's got worse now. I've watched him, from the balcony and through the kitchen window. I come here every day, checking on him, trying to see how he's doing. He told me to leave and for once I'll do as I'm told. But I can't stay away. I won't.Also, since he hasn't been answering any of his goddamn calls, I'm the only one who can give news to the others. Sam and Nat actually have a key to our apartment, but when I told them I was checking on Steve from afar, they decided not to force themselves on him.Now I think it might have been a mistake...After the first few days, I started going in. It's our place, I know where and how to get in unnoticed. I silently stood in the bedroom's doorway or sat on the sofa. I've also spent the last three nights with him, sitting on the floor, watching him sleep. I'd pull the covers over him or put his phone to charge when he forgot. Now and again, I think he has the impression that I am here, like this tingling sensation you get when someone is entering the room and you can't see them. Yet you can feel them. He'd stop moving, even stop breathing, and listen. But my Hydra training had its advantages, like the ability to be completely silent. So he dismisses it and goes back to his lazy slumber.Unfortunately, my Hydra training also requires me to go on a mission for the next three days. I tried refusing, for obvious reasons. But my skill set and knowledge is specifically needed for this one, and so I have to leave, worry and concern for Steve eating me up.   
I again ask faithful Siri what day it is and she tells me it's Saturday. But then it doesn't really matter.

I still can't see. I'm still miserable. Bucky is still gone.

And I still haven't made any move to get him back. At this point I can't even understand why I pushed him away in the first place. Why would I ever do that?

I've been... stupid. That's the word. I've been stupid for believing that I'd feel better with Bucky gone. Or that it would be a good thing to isolate myself and wallow in my own hopelessness. I thought I'd feel better if there wasn't anyone around to pity me, but instead ended up pitying myself when Bucky and the others were in fact doing their best to help.

Why haven't I realized that earlier?... I don't know, maybe I was too busy sleeping... But I cannot take all of this alone. My eyes haven't healed and I don't even know when all this “situation” will go away. The anger hasn't gone away either, but I force myself to push it down. I don't want to wake up on my own anymore.

Why didn't I ask him to come back before? Maybe because there is a small part of me that is afraid he won't want to. Maybe because I hate myself for making him leave. Maybe because the more I think about him, the worst it gets, until the longing becomes unbearable. I've missed him so much without really noticing, but now that I come face to face with the emptiness I created by pushing him away, all I want is for him to take me in his arms. I could call him...

I walk to the bedroom and try to grab my phone from the bedside table... before tripping on all the mayhem lying around next to the bed. As I fall, tea from the cup I was carrying comes splashing on my shirt, burning hot, while I feel the mug being crushed by my right hand, slicing into my skin. I start swearing and thrashing but only for a few seconds, too exhausted to carry on. I let a deep and tired breath out.

What would happen if I just lie here? What if I just give up...
  Immediately after the mission's debriefing, I ran to our building and climbed the fire escape's ladder. Looking through the window, I see Steve walk from the kitchen to the bedroom. I want to go in. I want to kiss him and take him in my arms. I want to punch him in the shoulder and call him a stubborn punk. I've missed him more than words can say, but I also don't want to push him until he wants me back.I decide to go in unnoticed, as I did before. The moment I've climbed through the window, I hear a crashing sound and cursing coming from the bedroom... screw stealth.He's lying on the floor, motionless, amidst a chaos of takeaway boxes, clothes and spilled tea. He looks like a total mess, his T-shirt soaked, his hair dirty and his beard unkempt. I don't think he has showered since I last saw him... I know he's barely eaten except for some takeaway, empty containers scattered on the floor around him as evidence. His right palm is bleeding and tears are slowly streaming down his cheeks.“Oh, Steve, what have you done to yourself?” I say as I crouch next to him.Gently cupping his face with my flesh hand, I wipe his tear away with my thumb.
“Bucky?”

“I'm here champ. I'm here.”
Steve leans into my touch and simply keeps weeping. Looking at him, I only see a shell of the man I love, and it's heart-wrenching.Leaning down I take his head in both my hands and kiss his forehead softly.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“I'm here champ, I'm here.”
Framing his face with both my hands, I plant a soft kiss on his forehead before helping him up.
“Now, first question: when was the last time you ate? And I'm not talking crackers or very old plums."

“How do you...”

“Doesn't matter.”

“Did you watch me?”
I pause. Should I tell him? He didn't want me around and still I was, though...
“I'm sorry, but I just... I had to. And I'm pretty sure you'd have done–“

“The same for you. Yes, I would have. And it was yesterday morning.”

“The last time you had food? Ugh, Steve... God, why would you do that to yourself? No, you know what, doesn't matter. Right now, the only thing that matters is this: I'm here, and I'm gonna take care of you. First, you're going on the couch.”
I walk with him to the living room, let him seat down and prop his legs up, half lying on the sofa, before putting the throw on him. I go to the kitchen in hope of finding anything I could salvage and make a dish with. Unfortunately there's very little left in the cupboards except for oats, coffee beans and sugar, as for the fridge, the desolation gets worse: stale milk, moldy vegetables and an extremely smelly piece of meat.“Holy cow! you really outdid yourself on the food front... ok, you stay here, I'm gonna go out just for a tiny bit, 20min tops. But if anything happens, anything at all, I have my phone, and here's yours.” I say as I put his mobile in his lap.“I love you” he says in a small, tired voice.“I love you too punk, be right back” I answer, petting his head and giving him a small kiss.I get out of the apartment, out of the building and across the street, hurrying towards the small diner we love going to, which is one block away. As I come in, Cat, our favorite waitress, smiles and waves at me.Her real name is Ekaterina, she's Russian, which meant my “background” obviously helped, and she calls me Sasha most of the time. On top of that, she fled Russia because of her “preferences” and so was completely supportive and thrilled to see Steve and me being really together. Actually, that's how we became kind of friends: a client was harassing her, and you know Steve, never one to let a bully off the hook.He got up and went to “nicely chat” to him . That's the burden of being a national hero: you can't go around kicking people's ass and calling them name in public. But when the asshole called Steve “Captain Fagot”, something surprising happened: obviously, I got ready to tear his trachea out with my bare hands.... but before I did, Cat went up to him and slapped him so hard he fell off his chair, then calmly told him that no-one calls Steve Rogers or even Bucky Barnes anything remotely homophobic, and that even if she was straight, she would never have gone out with a piece of trash like him. Though she used a Russian insult instead of “piece of trash”, and we just hit it off right away. But the whole story will be for another day.I tell her I need some extra fast takeaway, and so she enters the kitchen like a queen in her castle, puts my order at the top of the list, telling the chef it's for me. Ten minutes later, I get my order with an extra box of onion ring, compliment from the chef! Cat tells me to say hi to Steve, and I make my way back to him as fast as I can.I receive a text: “Hurry up please I can stand being alone any more.” I guess Siri isn't as good at understanding what Steve says as he thinks she is. The message still makes me cringe a little. I can't stand leaving him alone either.Two minutes later I'm in the building. Not waiting for the elevator, I climb the stairs, jumping 2 steps at a time.
“I'm back babe, and with 4 minutes to spare!”

“Sorry for...”

“It's ok. Just don't worry, I'm not leaving anymore, even if you ask me.”
I put our food in proper plates, a change from takeaway containers, and give him his portion.
“By the way, Cat says hi! Here, your favorite burger, with extra bacon. And I got you your favorite milkshake too for desert.”

“Thank you.”
“Thank me by eating.” He starts to, slowly and in silence, careful not to spill too much. He stops once he's done with his hamburger though.
“What's wrong?”

“I'm not really hungry anymore”

“Come on champ, I got your favorite, chocolate milkshake!”

“I know, it's just...”

“Ok ok, you know what? I'll put it in the freezer and you can have it after you shower and clean up, alright?”
“Yes, ok.” I grab both our milkshakes and put them away in the freezer, then go in the bathroom and turn on the water in the shower before going back to Steve.
“Come on now, time to clean up. You look like a caveman version of yourself!”
No comeback, no sarcastic or sassy answer... I don't think he has it in him and it pains me, because that's not my Steve. We walk to the bathroom where he lets me take his clothes off without any protestation, only moving his arms and legs when needed, a rag doll in place of the man I know and love.
“The water is already running and the shower gel is hanging from the door handle, you won't burn yourself on pipes patting around this time. Call me when you're done, alright? I'll be in–”

“Bucky?”

“What is it honey?”

“Can you...”

“Yes?”
“Can you stay?” How could I refuse. After everything he has been through, after what he has done to himself, how could I?I start taking my clothes off, fighting my stealth instinct and making noise as I drop them on the floor. Just so that this time he knows. He knows that I am here. 
I hear Bucky taking his clothes off and getting in before closing the shower door, his metal arm making its familiar little noise as it seals itself. The steam from the hot water lets his scent float around me and I think to myself that dear god, I missed it. I missed him.

He takes one of my hands and simply holds it in his, rubbing my knuckles. I use his hand to guide myself and feel up to his shoulder, trying to find him, find how to hold him once more. But he does it first, and suddenly his arms are around me, the shelter I needed the most. His body pressed against mine, his metal hand, warmed by the hot water, caressing my nape, I realize it's not only water from the shower that flows downs my face.
“ I'm sorry Bucky, I'm so sorry I pushed you away...”
“Don't, it's ok. You're a punk, I always knew that. But you've gotta stop thinking I pity you. Or that the others do. They don't. I don't. I love you, and I want to help. And I know you'd do the same for me.”

This I know, always knew. But against my better instinct I chose to close myself up and forget it. I don't say anything, instead holding him closer, keeping warm against his skin, even though the shower is nearly boiling hot and should keep the cold away. But it doesn't, because it's not the kind of warmth I need. It's not the kind of warmth I missed.

We stay like that for what feels like an eternity, standing, Bucky holding me, the water running down our bodies, splashing our faces and hair. But it seems even eternity has an end.

“Come on champ, let's get you all shiny and new!”

I hear the shower gel bottle clicking open and shut and its smell of cedar and citrus in the air before I feel Bucky delicately rubbing me with the soft, fluffy sponge. Just like on the first day back, he goes down my arms, all over my back and torso, my legs, slowly, taking care not to miss a spot, taking care of me..

“Do you want to wash the rest yourself or...” he asks and takes my hand in case I want the sponge. I say no silently, slightly moving my head side to side. I know he'll be gentle, and he won't take advantage of the situation. Not now, not ever.

After rinsing me, he also takes care of my hair, then washes and rinses himself. We get out of the shower and Bucky wraps one of our huge bath sheet around me.

“Like that you'll stay warm while I shave you” Shaving. Yes, I had forgotten.

I idly wonder how I look now before abandoning the thought. I can't see myself anyway. But it must be a full grown beard as I first hear Buck using the trimmer. I wait and expect the characteristic buzzing sound of his electric razor next, but instead feel him applying shaving cream with my badger brush. He's going to use my cut-throat razor.

“I promise I'll be extra careful!”

“I'm not worried” I answer, which is true, I'm not.
I have other things scaring and worrying me right now, but I trust Bucky on this one, so I won't add “cut-throat shaving” up to the list. Once he's done, he gently rubs my face with my favorite after-shave, the mint oil cooling down the already faint rash.
Taking me to the bedroom, I feel him guiding me so that I don't trip on my own mess. He helps me into fresh clothes, takes me to the couch and gives me my milkshake. I sip on it, carefully. Bucky always loved getting brain-freezed, even as a kid, but I hated it, and still does.

All of this process starts to make me feel human again. As if Steve was coming back from some kind of limbo where he had been imprisoned, floating around, for the last week. But somehow, Cap is still lost in there. It seems like I'm not him anymore.

“You alright babe?” I just realize I've been way too silent for a while.

“Yeah, yes. Just... thinking about... stuff”

“Okay... Just stay here, all cozy, and I'm gonna go tidy up the bedroom a bit.”

“Yes... thank you.”

He turns the radio on: “I don't really want–.”

“Oh, hum, sorry.”

“But, can you... sing instead?”

“Yes, yes I can. I'll be in the bedroom, within hearing distance, so if you want or need anything, just shout. I happen to personally know you can be pretty loud when you want, or need to...”

“Pfff...”

“Don't “pfff” me Rogers, I can see the corner of your mouth going up a bit.”

I have to admit he's right, I am smiling, even just the slightest of smiles. Because, even though “it” hasn't been on my mind for a long while, he was right about the shouting too.
 I see him smiling a little bit at my comment, and I feel my Steve, my guy from Brooklyn, coming back to the surface, little by little.Singing “Bei mir bistu shein”, I go into the bedroom and truly take in the mess there, another manifestation of how much he had given up on being anything other than a ball of despair and depression. I mean, between the two of us, I've never been the control freak, and he's not completely manic about tidying up either. But he's never let himself go like that.I get started, grab a bin bag from under the sink and throw away all the empty containers. I carefully sweep the shards of broken glass and throw them away too. Putting all the dirty t-shirts, sweat pants and underwear on the bed, I strip it of all the sheets, wrapping the clothes with them, and the whole thing ends up in the laundry basket. Finally I sweep the floor, the amount of dust and spilled food quite impressive.When I'm finished I go grab my own milkshake and sit down next to Steve. We stay silent for a while, until he mumbles something I can't quite make out at first.
“What?”

“I'm afraid Bucky.”

“I know, and it's normal. But your sight will–“

“Not for my eyes. I mean, yes, also for that. But... I'm afraid Cap is gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't feel like fighting anymore. I don't know if I have anything left to fight for. Do you know how many people we injured or killed during those missions, when we “saved the world?" I've had time to think about it, and the answer is too many. I don't wanna do that anymore, I don't want to be that symbol anymore, I'm tired.”

“No, Steve, I'm stopping you right now! All the collateral damage doesn't change a thing here, you're a good guy. Look at me: I assassinated people in cold blood for years! But I still managed to turn it around. So you cannot feel sorry for yourself because people, who you couldn't save anyway, because as you said, sometimes you can't save everyone, died. There is still a lot to fight for. And even now, during this strange and scary “forced break", you remain Captain goddamn America!”

“Are you sure? Because I feel less and less like I am.”

“Hey, remember the punk who was too stubborn to run away from a fight? Or the one who told me he had no right to do any less than those soldiers laying down their lives for their country? Or even the one who tried to enlist I can't remember how many times–“

“Five. I tried five times.”

“You see! No one tries that hard to just give up later. And certainly not after all you've done. You are a good man Steven Grant Rogers, the best I know, certainly better than me. And if there's someone that can represent all the good that's left in this country, it's you.”

“I don't... We both know a blind Cap is out of the question. But even if–“

“When.”

“When, even when I get my sight back, I've been out of it, all of it. I've been absent, and I don't know if I could come back... I just don't know Buck.”

“Well, I do”
I grab my phone, looking for article about Captain America. And start reading outloud. One after the other, all the words he deserves to hear go through my mouth: heroic, brave, people's champion, war hero, role model etc... I even play video interviews from people he inspired or saved, like this boy who said he had the courage to come out because “if Captain America could tell the world he was bisexual”, then so could he.Or the one with the nice waitress who was part of a group of people he saved during the Battle of new York. Especially this interview, as he had told me he actually went to see and talk to her personally and helped rebuild the cafe she worked at.I make him listen to how much he matters, how much he represents, over and over. He doesn't move nor talk, but when I turn my head I can see tears rolling down his cheeks. I leave my phone on the coffee table and put my arms around him.
“Hey, hey! Come on, I didn't want to make you cry.”

“No, I know, I'm... It's just... You make me remember.”
“You made me remember once, you reminded me of who I was, now it's my turn.” I say as I press my flesh hand to his face, wiping a tear away... There comes the moment... that moment that could lead to another one and another one, or just fly away as fast as it came. But after years of repressing and ignoring it, now I always let my first instinct guide me.I lean in and... It's a small peck. Nothing has “happened” between us in weeks, and I don't want to rush into it.It feels like our first kiss, hesitant, clumsy and a bit shy. One small kiss after the other, going back and forth, our noses brushing against each other's. The breathing accelerates, going back for more and Steve puts his arms around me, his hands starting to play with my hair or looking for the a way under my tank top.That's when I stop. Not because I want to, I really don't. But because I know exactly where this is going, because it goes there every time it, and I want to make sure he's not rushing things.
“Steve, honey, wait.”

“I don't want to.”

“Are you sure... you want to do this?”

“Don't you?”

“God, Steve, was there ever a time I didn't want you? No, ok, don't answer that.”

“I'm still scared Bucky. I'm still lost. But since this morning I'm feeling more like myself again, and it means I've missed you, in more ways than one. And even without my sight, I still want you.”

“I want you too Steve, but....”
He brings me closer and rest his head on my shoulder, nuzzling and whispering against my neck: “Enough “but”. "Moving back, he takes both my hands in his before getting up. I do the same and walk with him to the bedroom.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

#1

We stand in the bedroom, silent. For the first time in a long time, I can feel Bucky looking at me, actually feel his stare, and it's a gentle, loving one. In exchange, I bring my hands to his head, my own way of looking at him now.

First letting my fingers brush through his hair, soft but a bit tangled. Moving back, I lead my hands to his face. My palms on his cheekbones, I very softly caress his eyelids, eyelashes and, touching the outer corner of his beautiful eyes, I feel creases forming, meaning he must be smiling. So I bring my fingertips to his lips and notice that yes, the corners of his mouth are up, his lips stretched in a smile I picture.

Somehow, it's like I can see him again, as the multiple memories of him and his expressions flood my mind, all combined to bring back the face I would see now if my sight was back. Wallowing in my despair for the last week, this is the solace I needed the most, a reminder that he is still here, somewhere in a corner of my mind, allowing me to see him even with the darkness I'm in. And that, although I can't physically see him, I can cherish and recall all the memories I have of him. But most of all, that even if the world collapses, I'll always have something, someone, to fight for.

After tracing his lips with my thumbs, I navigate the shape of his nape down to his shoulders, until my right hand meets his metal one. Every plate, every groove in it is palpable, like following a very thin and sinuous path all the way down to his hand. On the other side, I feel the hill-and-valley-like shape of his flesh arm's muscles, the roughness of his elbow's dry skin, the softness of his inner wrist's, all the way down to the palm of his hand, of which I swear I could feel the lines. He intertwines our fingers, brings them to his hips before letting them go to take off his tank top.
 With my top out of the way, I let Steve once again explore every inch of my torso and back, tracing every line, including my scars. He touches me as if this was our first time all over again, hesitantly, but not because I need reassurance. Instead simply because he has to, or wants to. Because as awful and terrifying as this accident has been, this is some kind of silver lining, his altered perception making every touch, every stroke even more meaningful. He's basically seeing me with his hands, and I think that's what gives it, gives us, a whole new level of closeness. But even though I love the simplicity of standing here and letting him discover me all over again, my own cravings are boiling up right under my skin, which he must feel too because he takes my hands and brings them to the hem of his t-shirt, giving me the green light to remove it.Even though I haven't been away for very long, holy hell have I missed this sight. I have to admit, at first I felt like I was loving a stranger, Steve's identity in someone else's perfect body. Because even though I had seen him like “this” before Hydra took me, I had nearly no memories of it. That wasn't the Steve I remembered in my very scattered moments of true clarity. My Steve was the little guy from Brooklyn, he was the one I begged for, the one I screamed for every time bits of my memory would come back before my handler tortured me into forgetting. Yet, after some time, I managed to find my scrawny guy again underneath all the muscles. There are things that don't change, like the beauty spots on his back making a small, Meissa-less version of the Orion constellation. Like his scent, the sensation of his hair between my fingers, or the subtle tremor I felt every time he said my name, even when it was in the most innocent way, even when I didn't know what it meant.I put my hands on his waist and slowly get closer, until our bare chests come in contact, sending shiver from the top of my head down to the tip of my toes. He rests his head on my shoulder, face out, his hair tingling my neck as I trace down his spine. After the kissing one, another moment happens, that indescribable moment when you know there's no turning back. That split second when you know you were just on the edge, and now you've jumped.Steve turns his head towards my throat, leaving a wet trail along his way to my lips and we start kissing. As we do, I can't resist the urge to bite his lower lip while I let my flesh hand go south and underneath his sweatpants, grabbing his butt cheek firmly. Our kiss gets deeper, our breathing heavier, and I decide to take him to the bed. 
#2 
I feel Bucky's hand grabbing my behind and a fresh new wave of lust comes crashing over me. I want this so bad it nearly hurts, and he must want it as bad as I do since his other hand goes down my thigh. I know what this means and let him lift me up, circling his waist with my legs and wrapping myself around him, his scruffy face to my bare chest. Once on the bed, I realize Bucky must have taken all the dirty sheets away as I feel the bare mattress under my feet, now that he has sat on the edge of the bed. It's a bit rough, but I don't even care anymore, not when I'm straddling Bucky, whose hands go back and forth between my back and bottom, the waistline of my pants now half way down.

His hands on my body disconnect my actions from the logical, rational part of my brain. I am only reflexes now, and blind ones. My body doesn't judge anything other than by touch. Action, reaction. And his action of slowly licking his way up to my neck brings a reaction of me slightly thrusting on top of him while I find his mouth again. He grabs my hips, and in a corner of my mind I can hear him calling me a tease, though his mouth is too busy to actually say it right now. He breaks the kiss only to tell me that we both need to get up, then proceeding to lift me up a bit so I can stand on my own two feet.

He leaves me like that, not touching me anymore, not making the slightest noise, though this time, instead of worrying me, it makes me smile. I feel like a willing prey, waiting for the predator to bite, and the anticipation only makes his fingertips sliding my pants down even more arousing. He comes and goes, one touch, one stroke at a time, building up the longing until it's nearly unbearable. That's when he finally puts both his arms around me from behind, and very slowly gets closer and closer, as if sticking himself to me from top to bottom, until I feel all of him, as naked as I am, against me.
 For the first time, I'm actually taking advantage of Steve's blindness, teasing him again and again. But I get caught in my own web, the overwhelming need to be close to his body, flesh to flesh, becoming too strong. I take my sweatpants off and, putting my arms around his waist, I come as close to him as humanly possible.My face at the base of his nape, I kiss it very softly while my hand contour each and every one of his abs lines, very slowly, ending with the ones that go down... down... down... Steve sharply catches his breath once I take him in my hands while keeping on kissing and licking and biting... Good thing his bruises heal fast.After a few minutes though, surprisingly enough, he stops me, and I'm afraid he can't go on, or that he's scared of something. Instead he turns around, lightly framing my face. “I want you” he says before kissing me. I know right there and then what he means, and so I take him back to the bed.Resting against the headboard, I guide him to me, first by holding his hands, then his hips and, in agonizing patience, letting him take his time to... “settle down”. He's once again on top of me, yet this time am I not only under but also inside of him as time stands still for a moment, while oh so slowly we make love. But soon enough, the languorous movements are replaced by something much more intense, heavier. My hand going up his muscular thighs, I grab and pull him towards me as I push myself deeper, low moans escaping the both of us more and more often.I look at him, as I always do when we're face to face, but my lust-clouded brain then remembers he can't see me this time. Instead he lets his right fingertips brush every inch of my body he can reach, while keeping up our rhythm, as if all the lines and little imperfections could allow him to see me. Resting his left hand on the wall behind me for support, his right one is now on my bare chest going to my side, following one big scar. Suddenly though, I hear a big crushing sound and, instead of light fingers, I feel him freeze, griping, clawing at my skin: I've taken him back in my hand without any warning, his surprise making it even more intense.My other hand is on the small of his back, bringing him to me again and again, faster, until the last moment begins. First this feeling of total oblivion, forgetting who you are, what you are, anything that is not that instant. Then it's like your minds and bodies merge, and, my head against Steve's chest, his on top of mine, both of us sweating and panting, groaning, tensed to the breaking point, it truly seems as if we are one.Finally, in the last throw, I manage to take Steve's face in my free hand and face him, looking into his milky eyes, because I know even though he can't see me, he can feel it. He can feel me looking at him when neither of us can take any more, our bodies as tensed as tightropes before we let go. We abandon everything, even ourselves, taking in the intense and raw pleasure flooding our bodies. 
#3
This whole incident had made me forget how much Bucky's body and mine were meant for each other. Being blind doesn't exactly heightens your libido, especially when you've just spent a week taking no care of yourself whatsoever. But life makes a bit more sense now that he's back. Because blind or not, our connection is still as strong as ever, living proof being my body still ran through by small spasm of pleasure as I collapse backward.

I'm exhausted like I haven't been in a long while, but Bucky's hands, low on my hips, remind me of that bond, and to some extent, of who I am. It also reminds me of something I'm not exactly sure happened: “Bucky?”

“Yes babe?”

“Did I...”

“Yes, you did. There's a hole slightly bigger than your fist, a bit to the right above my head.”

“...crap.” I say, before we start laughing like kids.

We stay like this for a while, my legs on each side of his waist while I'm lying back on his, hands behind my head on his tibias. But after a bit I feel him moving, sliding me to the side and then coming to rest next to me. I get closer, toward his warmth and, after bringing back my left leg and arm on him, effectively wrapping myself around his body, I feel him pulling me closer before I let blissful slumber take me away.
*********************
It's been a week since Bucky's been back and, even though my sight isn't, I've stopped focusing on that. Don't get me wrong, I haven't lost hope, more like found some kind of inner peace. Yesterday I went in for another scanner, which proved once more fruitless, but Tony's research didn't.

Apparently this weapon was targeting me specifically. It was designed to reduce the effect of the serum, to make me more vulnerable, slower, less strong. Tony said it wasn't completely ready though, which means this Hydra soldier was really desperate. But it also gives a better explanation as to why I haven't healed yet. Dr. Cho took over for the medical side of things and explained that my brain, optic nerves, and eyes, even with full-on serum property, would have taken a little while to heal as they are delicate and intricate things. But with the serum weakened, it was then normal that the recovery took even longer. If the weapon had been completely ready (or if I had been a normal human), I would have had no hope of recovery at all.

So yes, I've made my peace with it, knowing that at some point it will get better. Now, even though I won't go out because I know a blind Cap would be bad press, I still lead an everyday life as normal as possible. Bucky stays with me, being my rock and harbor in all this. He's taken me back to the New Avengers facility to train, which this time we actually did. And I still managed to kick his ass.

Sam, Nat, Bruce and Scott come to pay me visits. We have meals together, we talk, we laugh. And even without working eyes, I again feel part of the family, though the only reason I didn't in the first place was because I isolated myself, all on my own.
*********************
Since this morning, something strange has started happening. Or maybe not so strange, as it is supposed to. But for a guy who has been living in the dark for nearly a month, seeing light is a foreign feeling. When I woke up and opened my eyes, it looked like there was a hazy, faraway lighthouse in my line of sight. At first I thought it was just wishful thinking, or some of my dreams leaking into my reality. But no, it stayed, a steady light, its strength growing bits by bits. After a while I started to understand the shades of luminosity varying when I compared it to the layout of our place: standing in front of a window meant more light.

So it wasn't wishful thinking. Could my sight be coming back today? It might, but I'll keep it to myself. I do not need to get Bucky's hopes up.
*********************
It is now 1pm. I know because I've been asking Siri or Bucky what time it is every hour or so. I'm pretty sure he thinks my brain is turning to goo, but at least he's not making fun of me. Now that the luminosity has been turned back up to the maximum, I can make out shapes. They are extremely blurry, meaning I could still be blind and it'd be the same, because they are useless as landmarks. But there is one I still cling to.

Bucky is now a blurry mush moving around, but at least he's here, at least I know he's here, I see he's here. I first realized it was him when he asked me what I wanted for lunch and I noticed the weird shape moved toward me. Since then all that goes through my mind is “I can see him. I can SEE him!”
*********************
We spent our afternoon training, and I actually had to pretend. I had to PRETEND to still be fully blind. It's less about not getting Bucky's hopes up for nothing, and more about surprising him now. Because at the rate it's been going, I'm pretty sure I'll have my full sight back tonight or tomorrow. I try and think about how it could be back like that, all of a sudden, in only a day when it's been a month with no improvement. But Dr. Cho said the fact that my brain was affected made it all much worse. Maybe it has finally healed, meaning the rest is going much faster, and showing direct signs. And so, after nearly a month of being actually blind, now I had to pretend not to see anything, which is in fact really hard.

Right now we're back at our place, and after a delicious dinner (who knew Bucky could get this good at cooking!) we're on the couch, him sitting and me lying down with my head in his lap while he reads to me. Looking up towards his face, I can actually see things come into focus, like trying to take a picture and adjusting the lens. Once my eyes come close to the right setting, I understand that what I'm looking at is in fact the book cover, hiding Bucky's face.

Then, like magic, like a miracle, like when I discovered what HD movies are, everything comes back. Everything is back to crystal clear, shapes are crisp, colors are sharp. I can see.

I see his hands holding the book, the metal one dimly reflecting light from the nearby lamp, the flesh one with dirty fingernails from peeling the oranges we had for dessert. I can see every little detail, those dear details I missed so much.

Slowly, very carefully, I put my hand up, reaching. Bucky understands I'm trying to touch his face, but seems to think I'm still “looking for” it. Only I'm not.

This time, my hand goes straight to his jaw, cupping it, my thumb caressing his cheek bone. He looks at me and, a bit startled, sees that I am looking straight back, smiling.

“God I missed your face.”

He puts the book down, takes my head in both his hands, and I swear I can see tears gathering in his eyes before he plants the softest of kisses on each of my eyelids.

Then, going back up but staying close, his thumbs rubbing my temples, he gives me that crooked smile I love so much

“Welcome back honey.”