The cold, hard form of the gun was a welcomed feeling underneath Bucky's chin. Nevertheless, he did have to remove it to stop the shouting.

"Why do you care? Why do any of you care?!" yelled Bucky. Steve, Sam, and Natasha turned silent, the looks of panic still on their faces. "I'm a weakness. All I do is keep you guys up at night. Parts of my memory disappear and I've nearly killed you more than once!"

"That doesn't matter James," Natasha argued. "It's not your fault."

"So when I wake up with no memory of you and strangle you to death, it's not my fault? I can't risk doing that! I'm defective! I'm not even human. I'm a rabid animal!"

"Bucky," Steve interrupted, taking a step forward. However, Bucky moved the gun back to the place below his chin causing him to stop. "Bucky, we understand the risks. Why do you think we stay with you? We wouldn't do that if we didn't care."

Before anyone could say anything further though, Sam rushed behind him and wrestled the gun out of his hand. The moment it was gone, Bucky collapsed to the ground and Steve and Nat were there as well.

"I wake up screaming in the middle of the night," murmured Bucky. "I forget who I am. I forget who you people are. I've hurt all of you in one way or another."

"But we can take care of ourselves," Steve promised, pulling Bucky closer. "We don't need protecting."


Some people might have thought that it could get confusing, all the legs and arms tangled up. But Bucky could always tell which arm was caressing him, which leg was wrapped around him. Steve was the most well built the largest, then himself, then Sam, and finally Natasha. All of them had scars, rough skin, and their own wounds. They all even had their own nightmares.

But only Bucky woke up screaming.

Only Bucky might look at someone and forget their name.

He was the only one who forgot himself.

Usually he dreamt of the experiments, the assassinations he'd been sent on. The times on the helicarrier or the bridge with the others when he'd nearly killed them appeared as well. Every now and then memories of the thirties and forties would move through his mind. It was always memories and never things Bucky made up.

But maybe it was because of the day's events, the stress that had been put on him. Because Natasha, Steve, and Sam were all there and what was happening wasn't a memory.

Bucky was killing them. And not just killing but mutilating their corpses, destroying any dignity they had left. And with his broken mind, the event might as well have been a memory.

So when he woke up, Bucky didn't feel the warm bodies against him. All he saw was blood on his hands, in his noise and eyes. It was everywhere and he did the first thing he could think. He screamed. He tore at the sheets as tears fell down his face and he shouted and screeched. Bucky didn't even realize he was screaming specific words, his voice growing strangled the louder he shouted.

As his voice grew hoarser and less pronounced, Bucky could finally understand what he was saying.

"I didn't kill them. I didn't kill them. I didn't kill them."

Over and over it went in his head like a broken record. As if to prove the point, he finally realized Steve was rubbing his back in soothing circles and Natasha had already pulled him close. Sam kissed Bucky's neck and then let his head rest on the curve of his collar bone.

When Bucky was finally able to form a sentence other than, "I didn't kill them," he asked, "Why? Why do any of you stay?"

"Because I love you. We love you," Steve responded. "And you don't just let loved ones go."


AN: So I didn't expect anyone to actually like this (it being an OT4 and the movie having come out less than a week ago). Due to people taking an interest however, I plan on continuing it. Thank you for your reviews, favoriting, or following. It means a lot.