Amnesia

C8: Home

Eventually we left the coffee shop, leaving Jamie not knowing the real truth.

Steve had told her that I'm prone to blanking out on occasion, which all though is somewhat true, is not what was going on then.

My head hurt with all the thinking I've been doing over the last two hours...

Did I really just meet my niece?

One of the last family members left, and I just happened to find her working in a coffee shop. Small world I guess.

My train of thought was lost when Steve shoved my shoulder.

"Hey." He said with a low tone.

"Hey." I returned with a whisper.

We were walking along a sidewalk of busy people, hustling to and fro not even taking a second to appreciate the real world. They were all running towards a destination, but I'm not sure if they even knew where they would eventually end up.

"Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we go home?" I whispered.

Home. Was it really home?

"Yeah sure Buck."

It wasn't that I actually wanted to go back to that small, dark apartment. It wasn't that I actually thought of that as my home. I mean yes it was a house, but Steve was the only thing that made it home. All I wanted to do was curl up on my couch and think, knowing that Steve would be just in the other room, or even by my side.

"I'm sorry." Steve whispered beside me.

"For what Steve you didn't do anything?"

"Yeah exactly, I didn't do anything to track her down and I just caused you to have a panic attack. I could've prevented it, if I actually looked hard enough I could've found out she was there and..."

"Hey Steve it's fine..." I said putting my hand on his shoulder. "...really, it is."

He wasn't known for rambling, I wondered why, but didn't have the brain to think about it in that moment.

I realized my hand was still on his shoulder and I pulled it away, shoving it back inside my jacket pocket. His shoulders almost looked like they tensed up as my hand left, his face holding a brief look of disappointment.

We turned the corner towards our apartment building and stepped into the alley so we could use the back entrance. We tended to do so in the day so people wouldn't see us entering the building in an obvious place.

Steve opened the dark door and stepped in, me behind him, making our way into the poorly lit hallway.

We made our way to the end, and headed up the concrete staircase, climbing up step after step until getting to the fourth floor.

Steve always liked the number 4.

I stepped into another poorly lit hallway after Steve, watching as he pulled the keys out of his pocket as we slowed down in front of a brown door. 48 it said. Our apartment number.

I always did like 8.

It was the age I met Steve.

He fumbled with the keys and eventually they just slipped right through his fingers and onto the floor.

It reminded me of his mothers funeral when I walked him back to his apartment.

'Thanks Buck. But I can get by on my own.'

'The thing is you don't have to...'

He didn't have to then, and he certainly doesn't have to now.

I picked up the keys and handed it to him with a smile. A rare smile. One that only his stupid mistakes can make.

I got a smirk in response, and his eyes looked down at the keys finally unlocking the door.

I don't know what had happened in the last few minutes, but it reminded me of home.

************

After dinner I plopped down on the couch and stared at the blank tv with an empty glare.

"You just gonna look at that or are you turning it on?" Steve asked sitting down beside me.

"What?" I asked a little dumbfounded.

"Don't you want to watch something?"

Watch something. Wow, haven't done that in years.

"Yes. Yeah that'd be great." I smiled.

"Okay well hand me the remote."

I searched for the remote he was talking about, not knowing which one he wanted, and ended up handing them all over.

"There's only one that controls the tv, Bucky." He laughed.

"Well I'm not up to date with this crap." I rolled my eyes.

"See this one is the DVD player, this one is the fan, and this is the tv." He said showing off all the remotes.

"Shut up punk."

"Jerk."

He effortlessly turned the tv on, a gift from Natasha a few years back before the big fight. He clicked through some icons before selecting one that read NETFLIX in little red letters.

"What's Netflix?" I asked as it loaded a screen of what I'm assuming are movie titles.

"Ohhhhh boy, we have a lot to watch don't we?" He smiled sarcastically.

"Wait these are movies?" I quizzed.

"Yep and TV shows."

"What?! How is that even possible?!"

"The Internet. Sam taught me its beautiful ways..." He laughed scrolling through the trending list.

"So what do you want to watch then?" I asked not having a clue.

"Well there's this show on my list I've been meaning to start, you want to watch it?"

"Sure what's it about?"

"Mmm two brothers and some stuff." He said vaguely.

"Some stuff?"

"Just watch." He smiled turning on the first episode of Supernatural.

************

A countless number of hours later, we made it to the end of the 5th episode with heavy eyes and confused minds.

"So they hunt... ghosts?" I muttered in my groggy nighttime voice.

"Pretty sure it's more than that." He remarked equally tired.

I made a 'mmm' noise as he retreated to his room.

"Goodnight Bucky."

"Night Steve." I collapsed on the couch.

First the first time in weeks, I closed my eyes with ease and fell asleep within minutes with a feeling of security and serenity.