Chapter Text
It was hard to know what his own thoughts were and what were HYDRA’s. He felt unbalanced, a stranger in his own body, freezing sometimes as the metal arm moved, forgetting for a wild minute that it was his to control now.
Desmond was a reassuring presence. Steadfast and calm.
He never looked at him like he was crazy. Like he was bad. Like he was going to lose it.
Which baffled him. He wasn’t very confident in himself, feeling like his self-control was holding by a thread and ready to break at any moment now.
His nights were filled with horrifying nightmares tinted red, execution, killing, all brutal and senseless.
But Desmond always came in those dark moments, always talking to him with a slow, steady, kind voice, dragging his mind from any pits of despair he felt.
And as Desmond sometimes promised him, it got better.
James started to remember more. And not just the killing, or the pain. But the happy moments- the quiet ones.
His sisters: their faces, laughs, jokes, the sound of their voices.
His mother: the warmth of her hug, her smile, the weight of her hand in his hair.
He was getting better and he could see in Desmond’s eyes how proud of him he was.
And then Desmond asked him to talk to him .
“Capt-... Steve Rogers, your friend. We found his body. He’s alive.”
Darkness crept at the edges of his vision, a voice ringing in his ear. An image of a blond strong man, the enemy, the threat appeared.
“James, did you hear what I just said?”
The Asset didn’t recognize the man in front of him, didn’t know who James was so the Asset acted instinctively and grabbed for the other man's throat, ready to crush it and then hopefully find one of his handlers.
The man was unarmed so it should have been easy, but somehow the Asset struggled to kill him. The last thing the Asset saw was the man's eyes glowing golden before everything turned black.
**
He woke up disoriented for a moment. He was in his bed while he was pretty sure he hadn’t gone to bed yet.
He sat up, on his bedside were a glass of water and an aspirin. And a message from Desmond, telling him he was coming back.
What?
A memory flashed through and he remembered the feeling of Desmond's neck, his pulse beating crazily against his hand.
He shot off and stumbled to the bathroom where he started throwing up. God! He had tried to kill Desmond. He started to cry too, overwhelmed by guilt.
He had tried to kill the only goddamn person who was willing to stay with him, who showed him care and compassion. The first person who had smiled warmly at him in decades .
He clutches the sides of the toilet, trying desperately to stay tethered, to not lose himself. To not become the other again.
Desmond wasn’t there and he was relieved. He couldn’t hurt him if he wasn’t in reach.
“James? James, are you ok?”
God, no! He thought as he heard steps coming closer and then Desmond was in the bathroom with him.
“You came back?” he asked incredulously.
“Of course, I did. Didn’t you see my message?” Desmond kneeled down next to him.
He couldn’t help himself and flinched when he saw Desmond’s rise his hand, fearing some sort of punishment. But it never came. Instead, Desmond just stilled, hand hovering between them.
“Why? Why would you come back?”
“Why wouldn’t I-”
“I tried to kill you? You’ve been nothing but kind to me and I-'' saying it was too much and nausea struck up again. He dry heaved over the toilet bowl, trying desperately to keep it in.
“It wasn’t you , ” Desmond said. “And I’m fine.”
“I had my hands wrapped around your neck!” he said, remembering the sensation of warm skin against his metal hand.
He was shaking with fear and guilt, unable to calm himself.
And then Desmond pulled him closer.
He froze, terrified of what was happening.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice faint.
“What I wish someone would have done for me.”
Desmond rubbed a comforting hand on his back. And everything that he had tried to keep in got out. He started crying in earnest, not caring about keeping a tenuous control on his emotions. He couldn’t do it. He clutched at Desmond desperately, letting himself go, feeling some kind of safety in the man’s arms.
After a while Desmond pulled back and asked softly:
“You’re okay?”
He hummed, stepping back too. He felt better than he had felt in a while. Drained of energy but emotions calm for once. No voices in his head.
“Thank you,” he croaked.
“For what?” Desmond asked, clearly surprised.
“Coming back. And not being afraid of touching me.”
Desmond reached out for his hand. “I’ll never be afraid of you.”
Something fluttered in his chest at that, at the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks , ” he muttered, unable to come up with anything else.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed , ” Desmond said as he got up , and he easily followed him.
**
James woke up with a start when he heard a scream in the house. He got up and made his way to Desmond's room, stopping on the threshold. Desmond was curled up in his bed holding up his right arm as if he was in pain.
“Desmond?” he asked.
“Sorry, I must have woken you.”
“I think that for all the nights I have woken you I can forgive you this one time , ” James said, and seeing no rejection on Desmond’s face, came closer. He sat on the edge of the bed wondering if it was okay.
Desmond didn’t push him away so he supposed it was.
“Are you in pain? Do you need… Something?”
“No, I’m not really… It’ll pass.”
James didn’t push further but sat in silence, wondering. He looked down at his hands, remembering earlier.
“Is it… Did you dream about me attacking you?”
“No, I assure you, you weren’t in that particular dream.”
“Oh.” James paused , u nsure if he should probe further. But surely, it was fine to show concern for others, right? “You sounded… l ike you were in a lot of pain.”
Desmond looked at him closely for a hot second before saying:
“I dreamt of the day my arm became what it is now. It was… v ery painful. It felt like it was burning from the inside.”
James looked at him, then at the arm. “What weapon could have done that?”
Desmond chuckled sadly and, with a hint of derision in his voice, he answered: “It wasn’t a weapon. Or maybe it was. But at the time I used it, it wasn’t a weapon. It was a shield. To save the world.”
“What?” James was sure that he must have misheard. Save the world? When? Surely if the world had been in danger HYDRA would have known. Or would have been the cause. Yet he couldn't remember anything about it.
“Sorry… It’s a long story and I don’t really feel like talking about it.” Desmond shook his head and added softly “We should go back to sleep.”
“Okay. But … If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask me.”
“Thank you, James. I will.”
And James believed him.
**
He woke up early and stayed in his bed for a few minutes. He had slept better than in a while. No nightmare for him for once. Hearing no sound indicating that Desmond was awake yet an idea formed in his head and he got up feeling… optimistic about the day.
He went into the kitchen and started taking out beacon, eggs and butter from the fridge, heating up some pans, pushing the on button on the coffee brewer and putting bread in the toaster.
He wanted to do something nice. To comfort Desmond after that night and his nightmare. To express his gratitude, also.
He heard Desmond make his way, steps hesitant like he wasn’t sure what he was going to find.
“Wow, what’s the occasion?” Desmond asked. James turned toward him, a smile on his face, and froze.
Desmond was half-naked. Now that he remembered he had been half-naked last night after the nightmare, but at that time… it had been different. Now…
His left arm was covered by a complicated tattoo while his right was completely black with golden markings on it, glittering when they caught the light.
He had no other scars though, a smooth chest with well-defined muscles. And then, starting at his navel, his happy trail, and... yeah, not going there. He turned his eyes right back to the eggs , trying desperately to act normal.
“I… um... I thought that after last night we both needed it . ”
Desmond didn’t reply for a while, just standing there before making his way to the fridge and pulling out the orange juice.
He was trying very hard not to track the movement. Not to glance again at the naked skin on display.
“Is it just me or did you not wake up with a nightmare last night? Was my own enough for the both of us?”
“It seems like it. Though I hope the both of us won’t have nightmares anymore.”
He turned to look because he was a weak man just as Desmond stretched and James made a strangled sound as the muscles in his back moved and eased. He wanted to touch it, to reach his hand and feel the warmth, smooth skin against his palm. To feel how solid and real Desmond was.
“Hey, you okay?” Desmond asked him, concerned.
“Yes , ” he replied, feeling flustered, heart beating wildly in his ribcage.
He tried to remember the last time he actually flirted with someone and could only remember some F rench gals between missions. So back in the forties. God, he has no idea what he was supposed to do.
“Okay. Well, since everything seems to be under control I’m going to get changed.”
It was all he could do to not let a sigh of relief escape his lips , though his shoulders sagged a bit once Desmond was out of the room. He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Get it together! Desmond is really nice, don't make him run away by being creepy.
He was only reacting this way because Desmond was the only person he had interacted with since shedding the Asset personality and becoming James again.
It was just… dependence on Desmond expressing itself in a weird way. There were probably no real feelings at play here. Desmond was just… nice. And kind, and caring, and James needed that in a way he hadn’t realized before so he just latched on Desmond. Hard.
Didn’t mean anything, really. Once he would get out and start talking to people he would surely get better.
Desmond came back just as the eggs were ready and James put everything on the table. Desmond smiled at him.
“Well, thank you for the meal.”
“You’re welcome.”
And James smiled back, ignoring the weird butterflies in his stomach.
THE END