I wrote this story several months ago and finally finished typing and editing it today. This will be uploaded in three parts, two chapters and a short epilogue. The title comes from the song In the End by Linkin Park. Please forgive any typos. Reviews would be much appreciated!
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of their creators, nor am I seeking to make a profit from this.
"I kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart. . ."
Sometimes people do bad things. Some bad things are worse than others, but on the scale of bad things, what happened to me was pretty bad.
When I was twelve I was kidnapped by a man named Alexander Pierce. He held me in his huge prison-like basement for the first few months, and then later I was allowed to wander the mansion from time to time. Pierce had a way of getting into my head. He made me feel appreciated in a way only a teenage boy could appreciate from a father figure.
A year and five months after I was taken from the mall, I was roused from sleep by sirens. Apparently someone had seen me with Pierce's housekeeper at the grocery store. I wasn't allowed to watch TV so I didn't see that people had been searching for me the entire time.
Going home was strange. Everything was different, but nothing more so than I was. My mom was so different from Pierce, he was firm and authoritative and my mother walked on eggshells around me, like she thought I was a bomb about to go off. In some ways I was.
Luckily I had my best friend Steve. It was strange though. He hit puberty while I was gone, and now he was huge. I was scrawny because for a year and a half the only exercise I got was walking around the house. And despite how rich he was, Pierce didn't feed me much. I learned later that was a power thing. A lot of the things he did to me were power things. It took a while to realize how bad it actually was because I repressed most of it unconsciously.
Pierce was arrested and way too long after that he was sentenced to thirty years for kidnapping a minor.
Life went on. It took a long time before it went back to relative normal. I channeled my leftover anger into sports. After graduation, Steve and I went to the same college. I majored in engineering, him in business. Those were the best four years of my life. I felt like a normal guy, and I was able to put Pierce away in the back of my mind and all but forget him. I rarely had nightmares, and I was okay.
After we graduated from college Steve and I moved in with my mom while we looked for jobs. Even thought it had been nine years since I was rescued my mom has always been nervous to have me away from home – thus why I went to college only an hour away from her – and she was happy to have me back under her roof.
It was three weeks later that Steve met Tony Stark. Steve came home that night and told me he found us jobs. The next day we went to the fanciest auto-body shop I'd ever seen. As I looked around the state of the art shop Steve and Tony negotiated terms. I got the impression watching them that Tony was a very carefree person who had a lot of money. Great, as long as he gave some of it to me I'd be happy.
Tony told us that he had an apartment building his father owned that we could live in for a reduced rate. It really felt too good to be true, and my nature to question and distrust everything and everyone – this started after Pierce – made me quite suspicious for a while. But after a few weeks the only thing that was difficult was not telling Tony to shut the fuck up.
Tony's other employees were an interesting bunch. Tony was a master mechanic, but he also handled some of the business with the help of his girlfriend Pepper. Once Steve learned the ropes Tony moved into the shop – sometimes literally – and Pepper and Steve ran the affairs.
Thor was the biggest guy I've ever seen, and the strongest too. He worked in the shop with Clint and Natasha who were the mechanics who took me under their wings. It took me a little while to realize they were together, but that was made pretty clear to me when I got to work early one day and walked in on them making out in the break room.
Then there was Bruce, who was a designer. He painted the cars, and was the most zen person I'd ever met. He had a temper though, and a while after we made friends he invited me to come to one of his fights – he was a pretty damn good boxer.
Together we were an interesting group, but I couldn't help but love it. I had – well, still have trust issues, so while I'm a lot better now, I didn't have a lot of friends in high school. Just Steve.
Settling into a routine in our new apartment was much easier than I thought it would be. I loved my job from day one, and my co-workers very quickly became my best friends. It was strange, having so many at once. That hadn't happened since elementary school, and while I was wary at first of so many new people, I found that I fit with this group – though it was probably because we were all misfits in our own way. Learning everyone's quirks was an interesting process. Like the time, two months in, that Steve and I arrived to find Tony and Bruce passed out under a car. They'd been there all night, tinkering and working. I came to find that that was a regular occurrence.
Four months after moving into our new apartment I woke up at six for no reason. I lay in bed, enjoying the warmth and comfort of my bed until eight, and only got up when I heard Steve moving around in the kitchen.
I left my room, rubbing my eyes and running a hand through my hair and was met with the sight of Steve making bacon.
"I knew I kept you around for a reason," I said, grabbing a piece of bacon and shoving it into my mouth.
"Can't you at least wait until the rest of breakfast is ready?" Steve groused, trying to suppress a smile.
"Nope, I'm a savage, you can't control me." I hit him with my best smile as I went to grab another piece. He smacked my hand away and pushed me out of the kitchen. "Ouch," I joked.
Ten minutes later Steve placed the plate of bacon and the plate of eggs on the table and we both dug in. "So what do you want to do today?" I asked, my mouth full of eggs. Steve chuckled nervously. "What?"
"I told Tony I'd go with him to the hardware store."
"Oh my god that'll take all day."
"Yeah, want to come?"
I stared at him, unsure if I was really willing to spend the afternoon in a hardware store with Tony Stark. "Sure, why not. I've got nothing better to do."
Three hours later, we were deep in the bowels of Tony's favorite hardware store.
"Do you think he'll ever leave?" Steve said, leaning over to me. I laughed, and Tony didn't even spare us a glance. He was deep in conversation with the owner of the store.
"I don't know why we're even here, Tony already owns everything in this store."
"Nah, there might be a wrench or two that he doesn't have yet."
"I heard that, and you're wrong, I have at least two of everything. But Bill here is getting some new stuff soon, and I wanted to make sure that I had first dibs."
"Of course, anything for you Mr. Stark."
"Oh please, Mr. Stark is my father, you can call me Tony."
"We call him Iron Man," I called, and Steve snorted. I cracked up, and Tony just shook his head, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to spread across his face.
We'd been working for Tony for eight months when we were invited to Clint and Natasha's for a party. She'd told us that she was pregnant a few days earlier, and in lieu of a baby shower she told us we need to get drunk for her.
We heard everyone already inside when we arrived, and Natasha opened the door after Steve knocked. "Hello," she said, her trademark sly smile on her face. I always felt like I was missing something around her, or like she wasn't telling you everything. Though, that's usually pretty accurate. "You're late," she said stepping away so we could enter. There was a chorus of greetings as we stepped in.
"How are you late? You live next door!" Clint said, coming around the corner with a bag of popcorn in each hand.
"We came from the store," I said, holding up a brown paper bag that held a bottle of vodka. Everyone cheered, and I handed it to Natasha. She looked at it sadly. She hated not being able to drink. "Sorry," I grimaced. She smiled and shook her head.
"I'll live. Plus, once he or she's born and done breast-feeding I'll be able to get hammered and make Clint stay sober." We both looked over to where Clint was pouring himself another drink, a big smile on his red face.
"I look forward to it," I laughed. I went over to the table that held the few bottles of alcohol that everyone had brought and poured some rum into my giant blue slushie that I'd gotten at 7/11 before we went to the liquor store.
"That good?" Clint asked.
"I'm about to find out." I took a long sip from my straw and looked at Clint, smiling and saying, "Not bad!"
"Bruce why are you watching the news, this is a party!" Thor called, clapping him on the shoulder.
"I just turned on the TV and this was on," he said, his brow furrowed and his eyes glued to the screen. "Wait, hey everyone be quiet I want to hear this." He grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and turned up the volume.
". . . Nearly ten years ago a New York man, Alexander Pierce was arrested for the kidnapping of a thirteen-year-old boy. He was sentenced to thirty years prison time, however today he has been released for good behavior. . ."
She went on, but I didn't hear her. I couldn't hear anything, except the words "was released" echoing in my head, getting louder and louder. It felt like my stomach fell to the floor and blood rushed out of my face. Suddenly a hand was on my shoulder and I jumped, my fight-or-flight reflex telling me to get the hell out of here. It was Steve. His face was calm but concerned, and he was saying something, but I couldn't hear him.
Nausea swelled and I jerked out of his grasp and wrenched the front door open, throwing myself out onto the balcony and lurching over the railing. I vomited blue slushie onto the sidewalk below, my stomach heaving painfully.
"Bucky!" Steve's hand was on my back again as I completely emptied my stomach over the balcony.
"Is he okay?"
"What happened?"
A litany of voices sounded behind me.
Then I was gripped by the desire – no the need – to know more. I wiped my face on my jacket sleeve and stumbled back inside. I stood in front of the television, listening with a mad fervor.
". . . Only victim was a twelve-year-old boy named James Barnes. Barnes is now twenty-two, and declined an interview." I felt sick again. I turned and sought out Steve, who stood next to me.
"They didn't contact me," I said, my voice broken. "They- what?" Steve looked pained. I turned back to the TV. The anchor went on to paint Pierce in a good light, saying how much he's changed, how exemplary of an inmate he was, and how the nine years he served was too much for such a man. My knees felt weak, and Steve must have guided me to the couch because I collapsed onto it, staring ahead at nothing.
Finally I looked up, and saw everyone gathered around me. They all looked concerned, their faces full of pity and curiosity. "I-" I started, but my voice cracked and I stopped. I looked at Steve, pleading silently for him to explain. He nodded, his face solemn.
"When we were twelve, Bucky was kidnapped at the mall. He went after school to meet a girl from a grade ahead. He never came home. For a year and five months we didn't know where he was. It was terrible." He stopped for a moment, and I felt numb, empty. I haven't felt this way since just after I got home again – the emotions I was consumed by after my rescue were coming back: anger, confusion, and overwhelming sense of why me?
"An old woman spotted him at a grocery store with a woman and called the police. They found him in the basement apartment of a mansion just outside the city. His captor, government official Alexander Pierce."
No one spoke for a wile. I got my breathing under control and felt a strange sense of calm. He won't come for me again – why would he? I'm not a scrawny twelve-year-old boy anymore. I'm no longer appealing, he won't want me he doesn't want me he doesn't want me he doesn't want me.
But, why did he want me? I've never understood, and the weight of that question crashed down on me, breaking through the numb haze that had settled over me and my breath shook and a moment later a sob broke out. Natasha sat next to me on the couch and I was soon enveloped in her small strong arms, my face pressed into her chest. Then Thor enveloped us both from behind. Soon everyone surrounded me, and I was smothered by affection and protective love.
"He won't get to you Bucky, we promise," Steve whispered from my left.
I tried to feel the warmth of their love but I couldn't focus on anything other than the guilt and fear I felt because I realized that I wanted him to find me – I wanted to talk to him, ask him why me? The sick small part of my brain I tried harder than I've ever tried to ignore yearned for the attention I hadn't had in nine years.
I cried, surrounded by my friends, wishing I was somewhere else, and I hated myself for it.
The next day, after work, I called my mom.
"Did you see the news yesterday?" I asked, exhausted. I didn't sleep at all the night before. There was silence on the other end. A moment later she sighed.
"Honey, I didn't want you to find out from the news, and I'm so sorry I didn't get to you first. When they called I thought the story wasn't going to air so soon."
I sat on my bed, stunned into silence. "Bucky?"
"They called you?" I asked.
"Yes, they called and asked for an interview, but I didn't think you would have wanted to talk about that man - it happened so long ago, and you've been doing so well!" He could hear the desperation in his mother's voice, but he didn't care.
"That is not your call, mother, I am an adult, not a child whose decisions you can make on your own!" I yelled and then hung up. I threw the phone onto my bed, fuming. How dare she? I stood and went to pull open my door, but stopped when I heard voices through the extremely thin wood.
The front door closed and I heard Steve's voice. "What can I do for you?" Natasha answered.
"I wanted to ask you about Bucky, if that's alright." My hand fell from the doorknob. Steve hesitated before replying.
"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Though I think you should ask him. . ."
"I don't think he'd talk to me."
Because it's none of your damn business.
"You're probably right." They were silent for a moment. "What do you want to know?"
"What was he like. . . before?"
I heard Steve sigh. "He was loud, but reserved. I was tiny before I hit puberty, and Bucky was, well my protector. He beat kids up for me because I was always starting fights." Steve stopped for a moment, and I remembered that time vividly.
Steve went on. "When he got back home, he was quiet. He only spoke when he had to. But sometimes, if he got pushed too far he snapped. Some kid at school kept badgering him about getting kidnapped and Bucky put him in the hospital. He got suspended for two weeks, and he was terrified someone was going to punish him, but his mom just hugged him. It was like. . . he expected to be punished. My mom was working a lot and so I was at his house a lot, and seeing him flinch every time his mom touched him was. . . it was terrible."
I scowled. It was terrible for everyone involved, Steve. You think I liked watching my mom tear up every time I flinched? Or refused to eat after getting in trouble because that's how I lived for a year and a half?
I wrenched the door open, and a small feeling of satisfaction went through me when they both jumped.
"Hey," Steve said, barely hiding the guilt in his voice.
"I'm going for a walk." I crossed the living room, ignoring Steve when he asked if I wanted company.
I left angrier than before. Why would Steve talk about me? It wasn't that I'd told him about Pierce in confidence, but I didn't think he'd talk to anyone about it!
He doesn't even know the half of it, though, and he probably won't. There was a lot that I didn't tell him.
I shook my head and started walking down the stairs. It was on the second to last step when a voice stopped me. "Bucky! Hey, buddy, wait up." I turned and saw Clint leaving his apartment.
"Hey," I replied half-heartedly.
"How's it going?" I didn't answer. Clint's smile faltered, and he stopped next to me. "When was the last time you had a drink?"
"Few days."
"Let's go then!"
I shrugged and followed him down the sidewalk. His favorite bar was a few blocks away, and he talked about a car he'd been working on that day. I listened with only half an ear, trying not to think about anything. When we got there we walked inside, and when I showed the door guy my ID because I have a fucking baby face, we saw Tony sitting at the bar. He looked like he was already three sheets to the wind, and he waved us over. I sat between them, and immediately ordered a shot of whiskey.
That's where I went wrong.
Two hours and many drinks later I was gone.
I sat there between Tony and Clint, not listening to them talk about different types of engines, and I stared into space. I was stuck in a memory, one I hoped I'd lost.
I was sitting at the dinner table, Pierce across from me. I'd been with him for three months, and I hated vegetables. He was trying to convince me to eat them, and I refused. I stared at him and watched his anger grow, my resolve wavering slightly, and that's when he said, "James. I will not ask you again. Eat. Your. Vegetables."
I shook my head again and he stood, both hands slamming on the table, face furious. He picked up my plate and threw it behind my head. I flinched and he walked around the table, hauled me out of my chair and jerked me over to the scattered food and broken glass. "Eat it."
I made the mistake of shaking my head again and he backhanded me. He grabbed my by my shaggy hair, which he refused to cut, and dragged me to my room in the basement. He threw me in the room and slammed the door. I lay on the floor, my head hurting where he'd jerked my hair and my face stinging as I heard the door lock.
I wasn't allowed to eat for two days after that. I drank water from the sink in my bathroom.
"Bucky, hey, buddy, you still with us?"
I came back to the present with a jerk, looking at Tony with wide eyes. I shook my head and mumbled, "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. . ."
A moment later I was overcome with the need to get out of there. I stumbled off of the stool, barely catching myself from falling over.
"Bucky, where are you going?"
"I ca- I can't be h-here anym-more. . ." I ran into a table and scrambled for the door, ignoring the woman yelling that I'd spilled her drink. I made it outside and gasped in the fresh air, but I still felt like I was suffocating. I could still hear that plate shattering in my head.
Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder and I panicked, whirling around, eyes bulging. "I'm sorry!" I heard myself say. Clint looked back at me, concern sobering him up.
"C'mon Buck, let's get you home," he said, and as he put his arm around my shoulders my stomach turned and I bent double, vomiting everything I'd consumed in the last two hours onto the sidewalk. Clint's hand grasped the back of my neck, and I heard Tony curse as he stumbled out of the bar. I heaved, and forced myself to stand back up and stagger forward a step.
"Shit, Steve is gonna kill us," he slurred.
We walked back to our apartments - well, I stumbled, supported by Tony or Clint - and when we got back I opened the door. I stopped when I saw Steve standing in the kitchen. Then I took the last few steps to the couch and collapsed face first onto the worn leather.
I heard Steve leave the kitchen as Tony and Clint came inside.
"What happened?"
"We went to the bar, Bucky had a bit too much and then it seemed like he had a panic attack. . ." Clint said. I heard Steve sigh.
They spoke a bit more but I wasn't listening. I vaguely heard the door close and Steve shuffling around. Finally a blanket settled over me and Steve whispered, "Oh Buck, you're going to be okay."
You don't know that Steve.
I woke the next morning to the sun streaming through the living room window. It was pale, early morning light, so it must have been maybe six-thirty or so. I shifted so I could pull my phone out of my pocket, but it was dead.
"Piece of junk," I grumbled as I pushed myself up. I hadn't moved all night, and my back and neck were stiff as hell. I stretched when a thought occurred to me. I didn't dream last night. Every night since I found out Pierce was free I'd had some kind of nightmare. Most were just memories I'd repressed, but some were more. . . sadistic. I shook my head, trying to forget the things that happened in those nightmares.
"Morning," Steve said from the door to the bathroom.
"M'ning," I said. I made the mistake of looking up at him, but the bathroom light blinded me and pain shot through my head. "Oww. . ."
"Drink water and take a shower," Steve said around his toothbrush. I stood and hobbled on stiff legs to the shower, throwing the curtain aside and climbing in. I undressed and tossed my clothes over the top of the bar and smirked when I heard them hit Steve. "Dude, these reek. How much did you drink last night?"
I turned on the shower and yelped when freezing water streamed out. "I lost count after seven."
"And the panic attack?"
"It was hardly a panic attack."
"That's not how Tony and Clint made it seem."
I was silent for a minute as I shampooed my hair. "I was remembering." Steve was silent this time. I heard him sit down on the toilet and sigh. "It - it was, I think I told you - with the vegetables. . ."
"Yeah, Buck, you told me. I'm so sorry."
"Why are you apologizing? It's not your fault."
"No, I'm sorry that you have to go through this at all. He should be in prison for the rest of his miserable life for what he did to you."
I didn't say it out loud, but I thought, what did he really do? I'm still whole, relatively sane. All he did was slap me around a little when I was a little shit - to be honest, I deserved most of what he gave me, the good and the bad.
Twenty minutes later we were at the shop. Steve went to his office and I went to get coffee. Bruce and Thor were there. I could hear Tony already in the shop. He'd probably been there all night.
"Where are Clint and Natasha? I didn't see them around."
"Natasha has a doctor's appointment, so they're going to be late," Pepper said, walking into the break room.
"Is she okay?" The three of us asked at once. She laughed.
"She's fine, she just has periodic check-ups to make sure she's doing fine. Speaking of fine, can I talk to you real quick Bucky?" I stopped and looked at her. She had a sweet smile on her face. I finished making my coffee and followed her to her office.
I sat down across from her, sipping my scalding hot coffee. "I'll get straight to the point - no, no, you're not in trouble or anything," she said, registering the alarm that crossed my face. "I saw the news the other day, and I wanted to let you know that this company and everyone in it - though we are few, we are mighty - is with you 100%. Whatever you need, time off, legal help, anything." I was stunned. My coffee sat forgotten on the edge of Pepper's desk as I stared at her smiling face. I saw the hint of pity, but I tried to ignore it.
"Thank you Pepper. I think I'll be fine though."
"Are you okay?" she asked. I was getting tired of that question.
"Yeah, I'm okay. It happened so long ago, I hardly remember it." That was a damn lie, and we both knew it. She stopped smiling and the pity, now mingled with concern, grew. But what was I supposed to say? Oh yeah, I remember more and more every day, I'm not okay, and I don't know how to handle it. She's my boss, I couldn't say that to her. I can't even say that to Steve, and I've known him since I was four!
"We're here for you, I hope you know that."
"I do, thank you Pepper."
She smiled again. "Okay, go get to work, busy day today!"
That day passed quickly. I threw myself into work, only stopping to look at the ultrasound pictures Natasha and Clint brought when they arrived. It was one of the 3D ones where you can see the actual baby, and not just a black and white outline. I wondered if I'd ever be able to bring a child into this world. I wasn't so sure I could.
Luckily for her or him, this baby will have an army of mechanics to protect them.
"We're waiting to find out the sex, Tasha wants to be surprised," Clint said.
Saturday came before I knew it, and I lay awake at four am. On the news the night before, which I'd started watching obsessively, they had another story about Alexander Pierce: A Changed Man. I'd watched in dumbstruck horror as they interviewed him, asking him about his time in prison. Not one question about the reason he was in prison in the first place. The only mention I got was towards the end.
"And what about James Barnes? He refused to be interviewed, so we don't have his side of the story. Do you have anything you would like to say to him?"
Pierce had turned to the camera, face open and sympathetic. "James, I wanted to say that with all my heart, I'm sorry."
"FUCK YOU," I yelled at the TV, and turned it off. I stood and fumed for a minute, and then ran to the bathroom and threw up my dinner. Steve forbade me from watching the news anymore after that. Though, that didn't really stop me.
I had just woken from a dream. Part of me wanted to call it a nightmare, but it really wasn't. It was another memory.
I sat in my room trying not to move my leg. I'd been with Pierce for eleven months. I was pissed the day before - I can't remember why - and I ran down the stairs, tripping halfway down. I sprained my ankle really badly, and couldn't walk very well on it.
There was a knock on my door, and then it opened. Even if I'd said get lost Pierce would have come in anyway. "James, how are you feeling?" I frowned.
"It hurts like a bitch, sorry. . ." I said, excusing my language at the look on his face.
"Well, let me look at it." He sat on the edge of my bed and reached for my swollen ankle, gently prodding it. "This is why you need to slow down on those stairs, I've told you time and time again." He shook his head, looking at me fondly. I remembered thinking: he really cares, doesn't he?
I often forgot how I came to be with him.
He carried me up the stairs on his back and settled me on the couch in his living room. I remembered the tall windows were covered by heavy drapes - cutting me off from the outside world. He wrapped my ankle, gave me chocolate ice cream and sat with me the whole day, watching action movies and eating ice cream.
I lay in bed as tears pooled in my eyes with shame when I thought of how good of a day that had been.
He was kind, fatherly, loving.
I felt sick.
"I'm so confused. . ." I whispered to the air, pressing my palms to my eyes.
I drifted back to sleep, and my dream was blessedly nonsensical, and I woke at ten-thirty feeling relatively rested.
I did not forget my dream, though, no matter how much I wished I could.
I got out of bed, suddenly aware of how hungry I was. When I emerged from what Steve called my den, I saw him at the table with Thor. "Morning," I said, going straight for the bacon that sat on the counter. "Thanks for saving me some."
"We made two packages," Thor said. I looked back at the small pile. "We ate most of it."
"We're going for a run, want to come?"
I thought. It had been a while since I went on a run, and I feared I was losing it. "Yeah, sounds like fun." I got dressed in shorts and a tank top, my old running shoes tied tight to my feet.
We set out and I kept up with Steve and Thor for a mile, but that's where I had to slow down. I kept at a jog for another three miles. I didn't really know where I was, and I'd completely lost Steve and Thor. Probably still sprinting, assholes.
I called Natasha, who didn't answer, and then Clint, and was also greeted by his voicemail. Then I called Tony, who answered after the fifth ring. "Tony Stark."
"Hey Tony, I'm a little lost, could you come pick me up?"
"Sure buddy, what's the nearest street?"
I told him, and he agreed to come get me. To be honest, I was a little surprised he agreed to come get me. I thought he would have told me to find my own damn way home as a joke.
Twenty minutes later his fancy car rolled up to the curb I sat on. He wasn't alone. A man probably a year younger than me sat in the front seat. Tony pulled away from the curb and started towards my apartment.
"Bucky! Hey buddy, good run?" I nodded. "This is Peter Parker. Peter, James Barnes." I nodded to Peter, who said "hi," with an awkward wave. "Peter's a journalist, and he wants your side of the story."
"I want out," I said, suddenly furious. "I'll find my own way home."
"No, no, no calm down, hear him out. Peter?" Tony made sure to drive fast enough so that I couldn't just jump out. Though, it didn't seem like such a bad option. . .
"I'm disgusted that Alexander Pierce was given so short a sentence, let alone that he was let out after only nine years. My Aunt May and Uncle Ben followed your story religiously, and my aunt cried when you were found. For a year and a half you felt like a friend who was missing, and how that Pierce is out I hate the way the media is portraying him. I want your side of the story so I can set it right." Peter stopped and stared at me, twisted around in his seat so he could look me in the eye. He looked and sounded sincere, but something held me back from saying yes right away. On the one hand this could backfire, and people will call me a liar and vilify me to glorify Pierce. On the other hand, maybe people will believe me. Both thoughts scared me.
"Can I think about it?"
"Yes! Absolutely! I'm writing this on my own, so I don't have a deadline. I'll worry about it getting published later, so you take all the time you need." I nodded, and settled back in the seat.
A minute later we pulled up in front of my apartment and I said goodbye to Tony, and got Peter's number, promising to get back to him soon. I got out of the car and went upstairs.
I went to unlock the door but found it was already unlocked. "Welcome back!" Thor called from the couch as I walked in.
"Sorry we lost you," Steve said.
"It's okay, unlike you guys I'm not a machine."
"Ouch." We laughed.
"I got a little lost though, so I called Tony for a ride." I stopped, unsure if I wanted to tell them about Peter yet.
"You okay my friend?" Thor asked. I went and sat on the open cushion of the couch.
"Tony has a reporter friend who is sympathetic to my case, and wants to get my side of the story."
"Bucky that's great! You can get it out there that he's the slime ball we know he is!"
"You're going to give him the interview, right?" Steve asked. I looked down at my hands and frowned.
"I don't know yet. It would be. . . hard. To dredge up those memories." I looked up. "I've spent so long trying to forget." They were both silent for a minute. "What do you think I should do?" After a moment Thor spoke.
"You need to do whatever makes you feel safe and happy."
"We support you whatever you do, Buck."
That didn't help me. "If you were me, what would you do?" I wanted someone to just tell me!
"I would do the interview," Thor said. "Anything to expose him as the scum of the earth he is."
"I would too. I can't stand seeing the news talk about him like he's just a regular guy. He's not. He took away over a year of your life, and you'll never get that back."
"Thanks Steve," I said wryly.
"I'm sorry, but it's true."
"I know it's true!" I snapped. "I've known that for almost ten years. That asshole stole two birthdays from me, a year and a half, and my entire life is different because of it." I don't know when it happened, but by the time I was finished ranting I'd stood and started pacing the living room. I could feel Thor and Steve watching me. "I don't want to put myself in the spotlight." I stopped pacing. "But I don't want things to continue like this."
