This day was particularly bad.
Usually, the mood would come upon him gradually, like the way a tide slowly eats up a beach. First, he'd be moody and silent. Then he'd become increasingly angry with everyone, and begin to storm and pace up and down the avengers compound, driving everyone away from him with cutting, icy remarks and insults. He liked to punch or kick anything that got in his way – a couch, a wall, a Tony… but he always had the strength to get out of bed. This strength was driven be self-loathing, hatred and anger, but it was strength none the less.
Not this day.
Bucky woke up on a regular dull grey morning and felt the stifling press of all his horrors and deeds pressing down on him so hard he could barely breath.
He saw it all inside his head – an endless tapestry of red, woven with fear, pain and screams. He pulled the covers over his head to try to block it out, but it threaded its way through every crack and chink and fought deep into his brain.
He stayed there all through the morning, trapped by his suffering and cowering beneath the sheets. No one was coming to save him, no one cared… and why should they? He was a monster in their ranks, he saw the way they eyed him. They thought he didn't see it, but of course he did. He saw everything, because he was trained to.
Memories shocked through him like volts of electricity... A whirlwind of death caused by a cold metal hand connected to a cold metal arm connected to a cold metal mind…. A gunshot cracking through the silence of holy reverence, splitting it apart with outcries of horror and desperate pleading. Outcries that swirled around unheeding, uncaring ears…. The brilliantly burning eyes of a young child brimming with accusation.
"Buck?" came a soft and gentle whisper from the door.
There was no reply, save for a barely audible whimper.
Steve gazed down at the twisted crumple of blankets shielding his best friend from view, and felt his heart break. He could never explain to Bucky just how much he wished he could share the burden that engulfed him, or how he felt Bucky's pain like a twisting blade in his chest.
"I'm here Buck. I'm coming." He whispered, and dove under the sheets to find him. He was never afraid of Bucky.
Bucky was curled inward on himself like an injured animal. He was shaking beneath the sheets. Reaching out through the stifling heat and darkness, Steve wrapped his arms tightly about him and held on. Bucky growled and thrashed for a few moments, causing Steve to withdraw a little. But then when he felt him move away, Bucky gave a little whimper and threw them back together. Steve crushed him tight against his chest.
"I've got you, Buck…" said Steve soothingly.
"Stevie, I'm a monster." replied Bucky in anguish. " a monster." He repeated more softly.
"It weren't you, Buck." Steve ran his hands comfortingly through his soft brown hair.
"If you could hear them scream, Steve, you wouldn't say that. You'd despise me like the rest of them. You'd leave."
"They love you Buck, like a member of the family. And I would still say it. I'll keep saying it until you believe me – it wasn't you."
"…Please don't leave me, Steve." whimpered Bucky, and tears began to slip from stormy, anguished grey eyes down pale cheeks.
"Never." Growled Steve fiercely, and hugged him tighter, almost hard enough to hurt.
He held Bucky as he cried, and found his own tears were soon intermingling with those of his hurting best friend.
Finally, the shoulders stopped shaking and Bucky's breathing became calm and slow. They lay close together for a few minutes more.
"Bucky?"
"Mm?"
"I can't really breathe much longer under here."
Bucky blew out a shaky laugh and pushed the sheets back. The fresh air soothed his raw eyes, stained cheeks and clammy forehead. He took a deep breath.
"Thanks, buddy." He said to Steve, who nodded sadly.
The door creaked open to reveal Sam. He stared at them for a few minutes, taking in their messy hair, crumpled shirts and sweaty faces. Then his brain processed the tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, and he let out a sigh of relief and nodded.
"Thought I was interrupting something' for a sec. Guess its not what it looks like."
He came to sit on the end of the bed. "Pizza?" he suggested understandingly.
Bucky pushed back the sheets and stood on shaking legs. "Yeah."
Steve and Sam both smiled - he was going to be just fine. And the times when he remembered would always be worth the love and joy they felt with him being a part of their lives.
Hi everyone! I hope you liked it and that it wasn't too similar to every other hurting-bucky fic you've ever read. Please do leave a review if you have time!