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anika-ann · 4 years

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Errare Humanum Est - Pt.14

God’s Will and Fate’s Jokes

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?) Word count: 2900

Summary: Steve is not the only man out of time to be found in New York, Manhattan. And he sure as hell isn’t the only one struggling with what he’s done and lost.

Warnings: mentions of violence, guns and death, swearing, a bit of a talk about religion

A/N: Ah, you want to know how the reunion will turn out? Understandable… So I’m gonna insert a Bucky chapter, with fragments of how he had been. I promise two little cameos from a Netflix TV series in exchange though, so hopefully I can be forgiven.

Story masterlist

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The wind was gradually getting chillier with New York City further diving into autumn. Bucky readjusted his leather jacket to shield himself from it, but it was just a force of a habit. He had been frozen – several times, as he remembered now – and cold didn’t bother him for a while now. This was barely ‘cold’. His boots shuffled on the pavement with each step, a noise that seemed to drown in the busy streets.

The evening was slowly drifting into a night time, but in Manhattan, the streets never really fell into silence, always pulsing with life, sometimes calmer, mostly rapid though.

Bucky shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighed, stopping in front of the rather tall building – then again, this was New York, tall meant something different here – , his destination.

His mind was preoccupied, for the millionth time lost in the past; for a change, not in his own.

The fact he had been unfrozen during the decades gave him an advantage of being able to keep up with modern times; and there was nothing that couldn’t be found on the Internet, especially when one knew where and how to look, maybe even peak where others couldn’t for the lack of access or ability.

Then again, Captain America’s life story wasn’t exactly a heavily guarded secret and Bucky couldn’t decide whether he couldn’t believe his eyes while reading, or whether he actually wasn’t surprised at all when learning what his former best friend had been up to after he (and the rest of the world, for that matter) thought Bucky was gone.

He had dived a plane which was about to level New York and other great cities of America to the ground. Everyone thought he died, but instead, he was trapped in ice; Bucky prayed Steve had been unconscious the whole time, not feeling the biting cold. Then, the proclaimed war hero was found and been woken up seventy years to the future, throwing himself into a fight as soon as it was needed.

And wasn’t it damn necessary – aliens attacked the Earth. Bucky now remembered seeing a lot of weird inexplicable shit. But still, this? What the hell.

The thing was, despite that, Steve’s life wasn’t all bad. He became a part of a band of superheroes and… the punk finally found his soulmate, the one he could never find before, because she hadn’t been born yet, which was insane enough on its own. However, he seemed happy.

Naturally, it had to nosedive after that; the woman of his heart and soul was dead.

Some nuthead – and to Bucky’s rage, a nuthead Bucky knew, he had been part of Hydra, which he now hoped didn’t exist anymore, because he read about Pierce being locked up along with others – had murdered her in the worst possible way right in front of Steve.

If Bucky ever considered becoming a murder machine again, after everything he knew he had done, it was upon that revelation. He wanted that man’s head. He wanted to tear him limb from limb. He was a villain, sure, that need was natural, but he had hurt Steve on top of that. No one hurt Steve and got away with it.

Apparently, the man didn’t, because he was blown up along with everyone in the building minus Steve.

Still. If Bucky ever questioned whether he still had a heart, he was sure upon that realization; he did have one and it bled for his best friend.

He wished he could be there for him, but he wasn’t ready. He didn’t know if he could even show up after everything his hands had done, no matter who forced them. He didn’t know if he could mug up Steve’s life even worse.

It was weeks now since he had been freed and his feet led him to a church – the one church where people said goodbye to Steve’s soulmate. Bucky had read about it too, her funeral; a small service for her friends and family, but many others wished to express their condolences, say thank you to the poor soul who lost her life to theirs and their loved ones and they chose this church to do so.

Bucky had figured he could pay his respects as well.

What he didn’t count on was the roller-coaster of emotions hitting him when seeing her picture, her smile radiant and brighter than the candles illuminating her photograph.

She was pretty, there was no denial. The photo printed was from Avengers’ archives, he read as much – Bucky had no doubt that it was Steve who put that bright smile, lighting up her eyes, on her face. He believed Steve had found true happiness with her and it wasn’t just because she was his soulmate or because Bucky watched the video evidence as she faced her death and showed great bravery and kindness or because he saw Steve’s desperation in the very same footage.

Bucky simply knew; the woman seemed to truly love Steve and that was all Steve ever needed. A woman to love him unconditionally.

Life was cruel and fucked-up to take that away from him.

No, Bucky didn’t count on the rage and heartbreak chasing tears into his eyes. Neither did he expect someone to pull him out of his musing.

“Did you know her, son?” an amiable male voice caused him to wince and mentally yell at himself for a dumb lack of awareness of his surroundings. Had it been a Hydra agent, Bucky would have been dead.

He forced himself to calm his sprinting heart, the rush of adrenaline unnecessary when the only person disturbing him was an old priest with nearly bald head and a soft soothing tone of voice.

His breath shuddered.

“No, Father. I didn’t.” I knew her soulmate, Bucky could have added, but he couldn’t afford to draw attention to himself; everyone knew who her soulmate was and it would lead to uncomfortable questions. Instead, Bucky’s mind supplied him with an easy lie. “But she had her life ahead of her, all of it. She must have been happy with her soulmate if he made her smile like this.”

The shorter man nodded, removing a candle that burned out from the altar with her picture – Bucky hadn’t noticed before with many others still warming up the space with their tiny flickering flames.

“Indeed. And she surely made him equally happy,” the priest hummed, sorrow darkening his face. His eyes carried a hint of curiosity, watching Bucky inconspicuously. ”It’s a shame for such joy to be stolen by madmen. Her soulmate… I pray for him as much as I do for her soul. Broken heart heals much longer than broken bones.”

No shit. Especially when it comes to supersoldiers with enhanced healing.

“Not wrong there,” Bucky whispered, hesitantly reaching out to the small metal basket with candles and a thin piece of wood to borrow the flame from another.

Bucky didn’t believe in God for almost seventy years now. Still, when the wick caught fire, he sent a silent prayer for both Steve and his gal.

“Still, you seem troubled by more than that,” the priest whispered and made a kind offer. “You could confide me in. It is what I am here for. Perhaps it would ease your sorrow.”

I don’t think so. Neither will it ease the craving after tearing a dead man’s head off.

“I don’t think you could help, Father, no offence. I’ve never been a good Catholic and lately even less so. And you sure don’t want to hear what troubles me.”

Despite a gentle nod of understanding, he nudged Bucky once more. At the very same moment, the soldier could hear the heavy door of the church open a crack and a man walk in with a periodic taping of a thin stick.

“I only wish to help you. If something of what you possibly have done heavies you… I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone. I’m not allowed.”

“I believe you, Father. But I’m not sure your own conscience would allow you to keep quiet in my case,” Bucky admitted honestly, shifting under the presence of another man despite the fact he wouldn’t be able to hear them. A periodic tapping the man carried with him was getting to Bucky’s nerve already.

He should leave. Another lost soul seeking the help of a church was a good excuse anyway.

“Trust me, son. Whatever your sins are, I’m certain I have heard worse.”

“No, Father. You haven’t,” Bucky muttered under his breath, aware of the stranger getting closer.

He turned to him, surprised to find a man of such built, carrying a walking stick for blind. His stance and body was one of a fighter, even when cladded in a cheap suit, red-tinted glasses preventing his real thoughts from displaying on his face. He appeared blind but not quite. To Bucky, he was giving an impression of pretence, at least partial.

He could only wonder why; however, he could do so on his way out.

“I’m pretty sure he did,” the newcomer joined their barely audible conversation without permission and a scowl twisted the Father’s face.

The fact that the not-so-blind? man could hear what Bucky was saying had everything in Bucky scream fight or flight.

“Matthew. What brings you here at this hour?”

The suited man shrugged light-heartedly; Bucky didn’t believe him for a second. “I thought I’d stop by. See how you’re doing.”

“Always with the jokes, Matthew. It’s not decent.”

It wasn’t. Except if Bucky was more comfortable at the moment, he would have snorted in amusement. This man was clearly comfortable in his own skin, but the skin was a charade too. Bucky didn’t want to stay to crack the mystery though.

“Forgive me, Father, then.”

“Did you come to confess?” the Father continued and Bucky recognized this was as good opportunity to leave as any, making space for the blind man to approach the priest more easily.

A brief smile passed over the Matthew’s lips. “No. Like I said, only wanted to make sure you were alright.”

The backing out of the soldier was less inconspicuous this time, caught by the priest.

“You don’t need to leave, son. Matthew is a dear friend.” And there’s more to him than it seems, Bucky was certain.

Were his the sins Father had mentioned? This man’s? Bucky wouldn’t be surprised considering the dangerous vibe he was radiating.

“I’m Matt,” the man offered swiftly and held out his hand for Bucky to shake.

Bucky was stupid enough to accept it and really, wasn’t he out of his game to make such an idiotic mistake. “…James.”

“Rather hot for gloves, isn’t it?”

Bucky fought the urge to punch this man for pointing it out and took a deep breath.

“My past injuries can… make people uncomfortable when seen.”

“I won’t see them,” the blind man challenged with the light tone to his voice again, his head tilting to side and Bucky could see the corners of his mouth twitch. It gave him the impression of the man wanting sent him a wolfish grin.

And that was the time to get the fuck out. What was Bucky thinking anyway, showing up in here?

“Matthew… perhaps it would be for the best if we leave James to his prayers and have a talk over a latté, if you’re interested at this hour?” the priest offered in a conciliatory manner, beckoning to the back for Bucky’s benefit – or for Matthew’s too?

How deeply ran the lie, the pretending? Bucky didn’t want to hang around to find out.

“Yes…” Matt hesitated, but nodded. “Perhaps. James.”

“Matt. Father.”

Bucky strode between the two lines of the pews, kind words reaching his sensitive ears.

“My invitation still stands, if you ever feel like talking. If you’re not comfortable confessing the traditional way… there’s always coffee. Same rules apply for me.”

Bucky nodded, definitely not planning on taking him upon the offer. “I appreciate the offer, Father. Goodnight.”

Since fate was a cranky bitch, a night full of horrors of the past had him wandering the streets before the sun even began to rise to the horizon.

The Father didn’t seem overly surprised that Bucky showed up again, at such ungodly hour no less.

“James. Latté?” he asked, unfazed almost.

Bucky wanted to question his decision. But he was an old man, older than the priest himself and he could believe his secret would be kept.

He nodded.

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Opening to someone about the horrors he had lived through and had been a source of was surreal. No, scratch that, it was fucking weird and telling that to a priest was twisted and seriously messed up.

Yet, once Bucky started, he couldn’t stop the verbal vomit, his hands in his hair, tears welling up in his eyes and the hoarseness of his voice that seemed to be impossible to disguise.

And the whole time he talked, the man sitting opposite to him – not touching his latté either – listened intently with compassionate and understanding eyes full of sorrow and offering kind words and his own insights of a person watching the event from a reasonable distance, far enough not to get tangled in the emotional turmoil.

It caused Bucky’s breathing to turn so difficult that he thought he might actually suffocate, but he didn’t. He might be close to choking on his own spit though at priest’s forgiving words several times, words of redemption, a chance on it only proven by a mysterious man building miracles by a flick of a hand.

“You were a victim, James. Just like anybody else,” the Father explained his point of view slowly and with patience battling the one of saints themselves. “These are not your errors to carry with you like a burden. Forgive yourself. And allow your friend the same thing. I’m sure he could benefit from having someone by his side in a time difficult like this.”

Bucky gulped, looking away as he felt awkward burn in his eyes again, a lump in his throat never disappearing.

“I can’t. At least not yet, I’m-“

The sudden change of atmosphere was palpable, the safe environment carefully created by the priest vanishing at instant as Bucky’s instinct screamed about someone else’s presence in the church – someone else’s besides the God’s servants. His senses tingled, hairs rising at the back of his neck.

“Someone’s coming.”

Father Lantom seemed once again rather unfazed, his gaze shifting to his watch.

“Well, it is after six a.m., James.”

“Father-“ the soldier warned him breathlessly, otherwise rising to his feet soundlessly, sneaking to the door, opening them for a crack to glance at the newcomer that made his heart beat out of his chest.

One peek and he swiftly pressed his back to the wall, his head hitting it with a soft thud, eyes falling shut. Even with eyes closed, he could still feel the priest’s worried gaze.

“James?”

Bucky took a deep breath, arguing with his frantic mind and heart to calm the fuck down.

It was alright. He just needed to get the Father to cause diversion and he would sneak out, making no sound. He excelled at disappearing.

“Go greet him, Father. Don’t tell him a word about having me here. Please.”

The desperate plea was enough to light up a flare of recognition in the priest’s eyes, no matter how hard it made him frown.

He sighed, sounding resigned.

“I cannot do that choice for you, James, even if I wished. I promise to keep quiet.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, beckoning to the other man to move.

The soldier stayed aligned with the wall, waiting for the right moment. It was killing him, freaking him out and yet luring him in, a mess of emotions, memories and possible scenarios of reunion playing out in his head, ranging from a fistfight to a hug even.

He needed to snap out of it.

He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Steven. What a nice surprise,” the priest greeted softly and Bucky barely contained the whine drawn to his lips. His hands curled up into fists and he bounced off of the wall, quickly assessing the most secure escape route. ”Do you require my assistance?”

“Not today, Father Lantom, but thank you.”

It was like a slap to Bucky’s face, a punch to his gut, hearing Steve’s voice; the melancholy in it and the burden he was never supposed to carry only making it worse.

For a second, Bucky wavered, faltering in his steps. His friend – former friend, still, his best friend – was right behind that door, needing someone and hurting and what was Bucky doing? Running away, like a coward?

“Are you alright?” the punk continued, expression concern for the not-exactly-older man and that was it. He caught a scent of something fishy right away.

Bucky’s mind yelled at him to get the hell out. His gaze returned to the door leading to a chamber and bathroom, hoping to find a small window. He crossed the distance in long quick steps.

“Yes, Steven, thank you. I simply have another troubled soul in the back room...”

Bucky slipped through the other door, finding what he wished for – an escape route. As he opened the window, taking care not to make the tiniest sound, Steve’s voice was slowly fading away.

“Don’t let me disturb you then, Father.”

By the time Father Lantom returned to the chamber, James Buchannan Barnes was gone. The priest only sighed in resignation; he more than half-expected it would come to that. He only hoped that the troubled soldier would find his way back eventually.

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Part 15

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So… am I? Forgiven? Please? I prooooomise the Steve/reader reunion will take place in the next chapter and it might actually be worth the wait ;)

Thank you for reading!

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