Regrets Collect Like Old Friends [Log]
He found it at the library.
It was an enormous building, far bigger than even the head branch of the New York Public Library. Steve had seen why almost immediately - there were exhibits and displays enough to merit this place a museum as well as a literary archive. Remembering how the phone book had updated itself with new residents, he took to the displays with hungry curiosity, to learn whatever he could about his fellow denizens. There was a lot to learn, and a great deal of it seems almost too much to believe.
Then he turned a corner, and was confronted with an image of Bucky. Etched into a thick pane of glass, the dark hair and eyes still so striking that the sight tugged at Steve's heart. He'd seen this wall before, dozens of times over, at the Smithsonian exhibit in DC. Knowing the historical importance of Captain America and the Howling Commandos, Steve didn't object to the display, but he was still mildly embarrassed by it. He had confronted the curators, however, insisting that his men be given their due recognition - the exhibit couldn't and wouldn't be about him alone.
Each of the Commandos had a wall, but Bucky's had been particularly poignant - the only member of the elite team to fall in the line of duty.
If only.
Steve shook his head, hard. Bucky was alive - that was what mattered. True, he would have given anything for his best friend to have escaped the horrific things done by HYDRA, but it wasn't his choice to make. It was in the past, never to be approached again. He didn't know if it would have been better if James Buchanan Barnes had perished that day or not - HYDRA would have concocted some evil to replace the Winter Soldier. Perhaps one that wouldn't have had the strength Bucky did, to eventually break free and walk away once he began to remember who he was.
Steve looked at the portrait again. No matter what, that would never be Bucky again. In some ways, his friend truly had died that day. But there was a man that could reclaim some of that life. Somehow. If he believed it enough.
He wouldn't stop fighting for that chance.
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The library here was a curious thing. It was a great resource should one fancy a peek into the personal lives of those stuck in the same place, or simply reminisce about times past.
That, or simply get out of doing something they weren't great at doing in the first place. Namely, home decoration.
For all of the skills Eric had, domestic home decoration was not one of those penned into his extensive list. So instead of browsing aisles of furniture, the Dark Avenger instead stole away to allow himself to haunt a place worth his time.
Bran fluttered from a rafter, all wings and darkness, only resting when the perch was within sight. The same etching that Steve stood before which bore the smiling face of his old friend, that had been the spirit's destination. The too-large ebony avian settled, peered down at the tall blonde and cawed. Bran dared the man to challenge him.
A flap of large wings and then it was silence again in the library.
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Steve Rogers had never issued a challenge to an avian in his life. He wasn't about to start now. Though he did give the bird a meaningful look. "I'd appreciate if you found a different place to do your business," he said. "This man is a friend." Everyone knew what pigeons did to statues - he wondered if crows took the same opportunities.
He recognized the bird, though. It was hard not to - the crow was enormous, and had been just as hard to miss in the TARDIS. Having asked what he could of the avian, Steve glanced around, looking for the lithe, dark figure that had so often accompanied the black bird.
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"You'll have to excuse him," came the voice that usually followed the caw. "He's a Death Spirit. He has no use for mortal rules and mannerisms. It's taken me a long time, even, to figure it out and I have barely cracked the surface."
The feather's on Bran's chest ruffled, but the wings spread and the bird lifted. It took off for a beam in the ceiling, choosing to perch there instead.
Eric rounded the corner slowly, eyes tilted up at the now still black speck on the beam above.
Then the Dark Avenger turned his attention to Steve. He stepped up beside the taller man, paused and looked at the etching. "A friend?"
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Ah. There he was.
Steve glanced back at the bird. "Death spirit?" he echoed, not in disbelief, but confirmation. "Huh. Didn't know that. Heard crows were pretty smart, though."
He looked back at the portrait with eyes that spoke far too many volumes, swallowed, and nodded. "Yeah. My best friend." There was no missing the dates engraved beside the portrait: 1917 - 1945
Steve looked back at the dark man and extended his hand. "Don't think we were officially introduced. I'm Steve Rogers. I remember you, from the TARDIS."
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"Naturally they are. One of the smartest species," Eric nodded. Bran was smart, but his knowledge was limited as well due to the fact that he wasn't a normal bird.
His own eyes drifted back to the smiling face, the etched tribute to a fallen soldier.
"Eric Draven. You helped keep an eye on Andrew Brandt," Eric said softly, glancing back up at the tall man again. "I appreciate that. D was a good man. He didn't deserve a death like that." Eric had taken the demise of his friend particularly hard.
But that felt like such a long time ago.
A glance over his shoulder at the rest of the displays, and Eric turned. He lifted a hand and pointed at a few displays down from where they stood, at a wedding dress hanging from a mannequin, "That one is mine. Some shrine this place has built out of memories from my past. It's surprising how your past always seems to catch up to you at the most opportune moments. Especially when you think you've finally outrun it."
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Steve dropped his head in respect. "Least I could do," he said. "Didn't want anyone else getting hurt. I'm sorry about your friend." At least Steve had had the strength and experience to keep watch over the murderer.
He winced slightly, seeing the wedding dress, wondering vaguely if it had ever been worn. It seemed almost cruel, having these memories out on display for anyone to see, for the ones they touched to have them displayed so prominently. If Steve, who had been trained and prepared to be a national treasure, felt exposed at seeing his life on exhibit, how did others feel?
"I'm not sure there's every anyplace far enough to run," he quipped. A quick glance back at Bucky's wall, and he looked away again. "He's here, in this city. But not like he was then. Someone..." Steve shook his head and let the words drop. "Sorry. Nothing you need to hear." It was hard, talking about Bucky. Peggy would understand, but not entirely. She'd known them both, but even she had still been apart from their relationship. A friendship closer than blood could run. Always there, through thick and thin, hard times and high times, there had always been Steve and Bucky. To the end of the line, they'd said. The promise wasn't broken, but lost with memory.
He let out a breath. "I guess some things you just can't move past."
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"Thanks," Eric nodded. He meant it. The regret for taking D to the TARDIS in the first place still weighed on him, but it was that or the man would have drowned.
Eric carried the memories with him. All of the pain. It was never true freedom. Steve was right, even in the jungle the memories had haunted him as if they happened only moments before. He had just gotten good at tucking them deeply away.
"You don't have to tell know if you don't want to," Eric replied, shaking his head. "Some things aren't so easy to say, and sometimes you just can't find all of the words."
Slowly, Eric reached out. He set a palm easily on Steve's arm and began to flood the man with calmness. With focus, and a dash of peace. But Eric didn't linger too long. Most people didn't like their personal space invaded. Macklyn did, he insisted on it, but both he and his mate had far surpassed any mortal restrictions.
"You will. You'll find a way. You either bury it or deal with it, it just depends on your character."
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Steve smirked slightly. "Just... hard to talk about. And I'm not sure it's mine to discuss, you know? Where I come from, you didn't air out your dirty laundry for others to see it."
The regret didn't wash away, but the heavy sense of burden did, as well as the sadness and loneliness. Steve felt some peace, which sharpened into interest as he looked at the hand resting on his arm. He didn't pull away, though it was a close thing. Instead, his brow furrowed, and he tilted his head a bit, curious.
"How... is that you?" It felt easier to think, clearer. Ever since the serum his memories had been sharp and defined, but now they emerged without the burden of emotion to influence them. He looked at Eric, blue eyes piercing into those brown orbs. "What are you doing?"
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"I get it. It's honest and noble." Those were traits most lacked lately, almost a rarity of sorts. Eric liked it a great deal.
"Taking some of that burden from you and replacing it with calmness and peace. It helps you focus when the weight you're carrying isn't as massive."
Eric shrugged, "You seemed like you needed a bit of help. And it's kind of my thing." He was still trying to grasp hold of the fairy dynamic mixed with the vampire. Neither species minded being in close proximity to another, and gender was never a barrier. Not anymore, anyway. Though with Steve there would be none of that. Just one friend to another, aiding to take some and carry it.
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It did help. And that sense of peace wasn't something to be scoffed at. Steve still felt his own emotions, but they were... distant. Not quite subdued, but under control. Manageable. Without the conflicting and oft confusing emotions, it was easier to think, simpler to connect. "Could you do this for anyone?" he asked suddenly. "I mean... if someone else could... I'd take the burden from him if I could, even if just long enough for him to get through one day without nightmares."
The words were out before he could quite stop them, but they were his honest feelings on the matter. He would do anything to ease the torment Bucky was feeling.
"Is that... something you could do? Transfer it to me instead?"
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Eric nodded. "I just need skin to skin contact. Anywhere, arms, hands, face...as long as I can touch someone I can transfer emotions...memories..." It was something he'd been able to do from day one, though thanks to Macklyn he no longer needed as much contact and it was much stronger, more powerful and would last longer.
Then Eric frowned. "I would never willingly give you pain of any kind. I'm not sure you'd be able to handle it. I can channel it, bury it. If it was strong enough it could destroy you."
Only offering a very small sample of his own pain, Eric threaded it into Steve's skin. A stinging, sharp sensation but it faded quickly and didn't linger more than a moment. It would've felt like being stabbed in the heart, in the brain. Steve didn't need a burden like that. Eric wouldn't let him take any of it.
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Steve flinched, drawing in a sharp breath at the stab of pain. Reflexively, his hand caught Eric's by the wrist, yanking it away from contacting his arm. He caught himself before he could react further, and released the other man. "Sorry," he said automatically. "Sorry. I wasn't expecting... that." He was shaking his head. "But I didn't mean yours. I meant..." He glanced meaningfully at the etched image over his shoulder before looking back at Eric. "I wouldn't ask you to take on his pain. But he needs that kind of respite more than I do. I'd take it from him, if I could."
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Eric winced at the catch, then shrugged. "You can't hurt me. And usually I'm faster than that so count yourself fortunate that you were able to catch me at all."'
Then Eric smiled, "Steve, all pain is the same. Mine, his, yours....it all burns you the same way. The effect of it might be different, but in the end it still manages to hurt whomever it's inside. I'm immortal, it won't hurt me like it can you. And you're too good a man to be dragged down without needing to be." That pain could crush Steve.
"You aren't asking me to. I'm going to do it anyway. You did me a favor, watching Andrew Brandt. I will even the bill by helping your friend."
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To know that he couldn't be the one to take that burden was a bit disheartening, but Steve was realistic enough to understand what this man was offering. Eric was willing to bear that strain, to take on the pain of another and carry it, knowing just how much it would hurt. And he was willing to do so for a stranger. Steve looked away for a moment, not willing to let another see the surge of hope and grateful tears that stung his eyes all of a sudden.
"I did what anyone would do," he said, his voice a bit rough as he blinked away the show of emotion. "You don't owe me anything for doing what's right."
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He didn't have to see the moisture welling in Steve's eyes. Eric could feel it. He frowned. "I'm willing to extend anything to someone that needs the help. No strings, nothing. It's what I was made to do."
"Not everyone can do the right thing," Eric mused. He smiled. "I would've killed him if i found him. I thought about hunting Brandt down." But he hadn't.
Eric's hand moved back to Steve's arm. He shared the memory of discovering D's hat. The blood. The door left ajar.
He didn't share too much of the memory and pulled away entirely before it got too deep.
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Steve caught his breath at the memory that wasn't his own. It was heavy with sorrow, hot with anger, caught up in an alien emotion that Steve couldn't claim, couldn't fathom. It was something that went beyond rage, transgressed sorrow. He'd felt only the barest hint of this when he'd realized Bucky had survived his fall from the train, and that had been more than enough to overwhelm him.
Then, the memory was gone, the foreign emotions no longer mingling in his mind. He could still remember it, but it now felt like his own experience, not one that had been given to him. His own memory of the experience of living someone else's memory.
"Don't think I could have faulted you for that," he admitted. "But I'm glad Brandt is where he belongs."
He looked at Eric. "If you can... If you're willing, I'll introduce you to Bucky. To James."
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"Me too. You helped put him there. A lot of us did." Eric owed a lot to Matt Murdock, as well. He sighed. Bringing D up was difficult. He had seen a lot of potential in the man, and now he was gone forever.
Then Eric nodded, "All you have to do is shout. I'll be able to hear you. When you're ready, when he is ready, just call. I'll be there. You have my word." Macklyn had told Eric that the promise of a fairy was unbreakable. And it was not something Eric extended to just anyone.
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Steve nodded, and reached out, taking Eric's hand and shaking it. "Thank you. Truly. If this helps him... then I'll never be able to thank you enough. If you ever need me, I'll be there."
He might not have been a fairy, but Steve's word was just as good.
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Fairy is what he marketed. Vampire hybrid was the secret. At least until Macklyn gave him the all clear.
"Don't worry about it. I'll do what I can. I can give him memories, take his pain. Anything that helps."
Their hands were shaking, but the memories of D were at the forefront of his mind. He pushed them down and felt a little better when they were gone.
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Steve paused, gnawing slightly at his lower lip - a habit he'd all but dropped after the serum. It only cropped up on rare occasions these days, but there it was, as he considered his options. "Are you able to show him my memories? It might help trigger his own again, if he gets an idea of mine. Things we've done together, things I remember." He lifted his hand. "If I'm asking too much, I understand. I don't want you to take on more than you're comfortable with."
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"No, it's fine." Eric smiled and shrugged, "I can show him anything you want. Any feeling. Any memory. As long as you give it to me I can, in turn, offer it to him. How he reacts, I can't say. But he can't hurt me. I can withstand the Hulk."
Eric would help as he could. He owed it to Steve. "If you need anything else, outside of that, you can ask. I might be able to help."
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A breath of relief escaped Steve, and his smile returned. "Thank you, Eric. I'll talk to Bucky. And I'll be in touch. He's a good man. He just needs the chance to remember that."
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Eric nodded.
"I'm glad I can help. When in doubt, look for the bird. Bran is the outlet but I should be able to hear you from anywhere."
Bran cawed and Eric smiled. "I have to go. I have something to do. Until next time, Steve."