"No. If I thought you were dead, I wouldn't've been lookin'." That wasn't it, not really, and his head was spinning with the need to define what it was. Air burned in his lungs with each inhalation, but he just. Kept pressing that. Until, quiet and drained, it spilled out.
"You weren't there." It wasn't an accusation, even though Bucky had needed him, so painfully. It wasn't an explanation, either, because while some of the closeness between him and Peggy had been because of the gaping, hurting hole in the lives of both of them, that wasn't all of it, either. It was just as close as he could get. Steve... how much he meant for both of them. It had been a part of it.
"But looking after each other was a part of it, too. Mostly her looking after me, but..."
But, the rare times when Bucky could look at it without crushing self-contempt and self-deprecation, he knew that his own stubbornness, the way he tenuously didn't let go, had also given strength to Peggy, in turn. He didn't have the gift of hope that Steve did. But not giving up until he'd won, or lost for good against overwhelming odds? Yeah, that was something the two of them had in common. And Bucky was proud of it... and he thought that Peggy liked it, too. It was what he brought to the table, in his mind.
Seeing Steve like this, however, twisted Bucky's guilt inside his gut, and spurred him into action. Slow, careful. Uncertain, even, because he wasn't sure if Steve wanted him anywhere near, but he stumbled over to Steve's chair, put his hand on his friend's shoulder, and squeezed, slightly.
"Steve, I... Don't wanna go away, either, now that you're here." He wanted to, out of guilt and shame and not being good enough, but, underneath that, he wanted to cling, to never let go. The latter was stronger. "I dunno how to set things for all of us right. But, whatever it takes, I'll do it. I'll find a way." He held his breath. "We'll find a way."
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"No. If I thought you were dead, I wouldn't've been lookin'." That wasn't it, not really, and his head was spinning with the need to define what it was. Air burned in his lungs with each inhalation, but he just. Kept pressing that. Until, quiet and drained, it spilled out.
"You weren't there." It wasn't an accusation, even though Bucky had needed him, so painfully. It wasn't an explanation, either, because while some of the closeness between him and Peggy had been because of the gaping, hurting hole in the lives of both of them, that wasn't all of it, either. It was just as close as he could get. Steve... how much he meant for both of them. It had been a part of it.
"But looking after each other was a part of it, too. Mostly her looking after me, but..."
But, the rare times when Bucky could look at it without crushing self-contempt and self-deprecation, he knew that his own stubbornness, the way he tenuously didn't let go, had also given strength to Peggy, in turn. He didn't have the gift of hope that Steve did. But not giving up until he'd won, or lost for good against overwhelming odds? Yeah, that was something the two of them had in common. And Bucky was proud of it... and he thought that Peggy liked it, too. It was what he brought to the table, in his mind.
Seeing Steve like this, however, twisted Bucky's guilt inside his gut, and spurred him into action. Slow, careful. Uncertain, even, because he wasn't sure if Steve wanted him anywhere near, but he stumbled over to Steve's chair, put his hand on his friend's shoulder, and squeezed, slightly.
"Steve, I... Don't wanna go away, either, now that you're here." He wanted to, out of guilt and shame and not being good enough, but, underneath that, he wanted to cling, to never let go. The latter was stronger. "I dunno how to set things for all of us right. But, whatever it takes, I'll do it. I'll find a way." He held his breath. "We'll find a way."