Bucky often found it impossible to go back to sleep after a nightmare. For the first time in a while however, he almost immediately collapsed, falling back into his broken memories. When he awoke, screaming and shouting, it was to an empty bed. His heart suddenly racing, he tried to recall the night before but everything was just as real as the next. He was somewhat able to calm himself upon Natasha entering the room.
"Where's Steve?" The words came out in a hurry as if the man might be six feet under. "Sam? Are they—?"
"They're probably still jogging. Or at least Rogers is. Wilson is probably wheezing under a tree by now?" she replied, allowing an easy smile to set upon her face.
Nodding with understanding, Bucky rolled his neck and stretched his limbs. As Natasha walked out of the room, she yelled back, "I think Steve was planning on making breakfast when he got back but I'm sure there's something in the kitchen if you're hungry!"
"Alright," Bucky replied even though his voice was probably too soft to hear anyways. He stood up, taking off the already sweated through shirt and went in search of another. He kept his eyes away from the sheets, the memory of the blood soaking them and covering his hands still too real.
When he got to the kitchen, he stopped upon seeing Natasha standing in front of him with a pair of scissors. She waited for Bucky to say something but as it soon became clear he didn't know what to say, Natasha simply rolled her eyes.
"You can get that terrified look out of your eyes. I'm not going to stab you with them," she replied. "Come on. I think it's about time for a haircut. Don't you?"
Subconsciously, Bucky ran a hand through his ragged hair.
"Here, I already got a chair and everything," Natasha said, dragging it out from under the small kitchen table. "Now sit."
Bucky wasn't sure why the thought of getting his hair cut was scary. Nevertheless, the resolve in Natasha's face convinced him to sit down. He remained completely still as she began clipping away. His eyes slowly followed the strands that fell onto the cloths and floor. Finally, he felt Nat run a hand through his suddenly short hair, getting any remaining strands out.
"Go look in the mirror. And don't you dare say you still think you should go to a barber. I did a perfectly fine job," Natasha said, following Bucky into the bathroom.
Looking at himself, Bucky's mouth automatically started to curl upwards only to have a feeling of panic occur. He realized why he didn't like it. He looked too much as he once had. He didn't deserve that look. The look of a hero. He shouldn't have let Natasha cut his hair. He should still look like what he was. A rabid animal.
"Thanks," he finally said, his voice not betraying anything.
"Your welcome." The sound of the back door opening was suddenly heard along with muffled discussion. "That'll be Wilson and Rogers. I'll go see how badly the Falcon's ego was destroyed today while you take a shower."
She closed the door behind her as Bucky turned back to face himself in the mirror. Carefully, he parted his hair, flipping it to the side that he had kept it on during the war. Once again, his mouth began to turn upwards only to have his metal arm catch the light.
All at once the spell was broken and Bucky was messing up his hair as quickly as possible. Trying to calm his breathing, he looked back in the mirror and what he saw was a little less tamed, a little more feral. With a sigh, Bucky touched the beard that was steadily growing on his face. Steve had kept asking him when he was planning to shave it but he decided that it was still too soon, especially now that his hair was short again. He couldn't allow himself to look normal. Bucky couldn't reveal such a lie to the world.
He showered, put his clothes back on, and made his way to the kitchen. For two people the place would've been perfect but with four the small dining table was too crowded so they always ate in the living room. Plates and cups had been laid out as Steve moved back and forth between pans and the stove.
"Need any help?" Bucky asked.
"I'm good. But thanks for…" trailing off, Steve did a double take before allowing a smile to appear. "Looks good on you. But no, I'm good. Sam and Natasha are already in the living room."
Bucky wanted to yell back that it didn't make him any more healed. That he was still a monster, but he simply nodded and moved into the next room. Sam and Natasha were arguing about something that Bucky quickly heard involved Nick Fury.
"You know he's not your boss anymore," Sam finally grumbled.
"Maybe not but he's still a friend."
"Who is supposed to be dead. He shouldn't be running any missions. Especially since he doesn't even have an organization any more. Take my side Bucky!" whined Sam, finally looking up. Much like how Steve looked, only a bit more shocked, he said, "I like it. Definitely suits you."
"Natasha did it."
"Yes, I'm wonderful at hair. Now back onto the more pressing matter. Just because all our secrets have been blown doesn't mean secrets have suddenly stopped existing."
"She does have a point there," Bucky responded, sitting down in one of the armchairs instead of the couch. The couch was big enough for three people though when it was movie night they all managed to squeeze on to it. Otherwise, Bucky always sat in his armchair, no amount of persuading ever convincing him to move.
"But you're supposed to side with me," Sam growled, crossing his arms. "Steve, you'll side with me won't you?!"
"I also have to agree with Nat. Besides, I'll be going with them. Sorry. You're on your own Sam!"
"And anyways," said Natasha as she rolled her eyes, "you're probably just jealous that I have another bird pal besides you."
"First of all, I am not jealous of freaking Katniss. Second of all, I can't believe Steve is going with you too."
"I know you probably hate hearing this but I doubt I'll be retiring for quite some time," Steve replied as he walked into the room and handed over a plate to Bucky and then Natasha. He paused for a second, looking longer at Bucky before adding one last thing. "Fury thinks he might have found another Hydra base."
Sam's eyes widened as Natasha threw an excusing look over at Steve. Bucky wasn't looking at anyone, his fingers ever so slightly twitching.
"I should go then."
"Bucky, I know you want to but you're still healing," replied Steve.
His fingers twitched again before he set his plate of food onto the small table next to his chair and then left the room without another word. The moment he was gone, Bucky could hear the argument flair up.
"You shouldn't have told him, Rogers."
"Well I couldn't just lie to him."
"What about me though? I could go with you too…"
Bucky allowed the voices to dwindle away as he went to the backyard. He rarely went outside, never liking how the sun usually glinted off his metallic arm. Right now he needed a place to be alone though and the bedroom still smelt like blood in his mind.
The idea of going after Hydra, it felt like dangling from a rope, unable to see where he was climbing to or where he might fall. Going to the base could not only bring up certain unanswered questions about his past, but it could also be the closer he was looking for. He knew it was more likely that he would simply tumble deeper down into the abyss though.
Bucky hears the footsteps behind him and is about surprised that he recognizes them as Sam's. He's memorized each of their strides and breathing patterns. Usually Steve was the one to try and talk to him, comfort him in some small way. It made Bucky curious at what Sam might have to say but also yearn for something more familiar.
"It seems like we're both booted off this mission," Sam began, moving to stand right next to where Bucky was. "Why do you want to go after Hydra?"
Clenching and unclenching his fists, Bucky responded with, "I'm not completely sure. Any hints about my past, more information on what they did to me, I'm not sure I ever want to know. And most of the men I blame are already dead anyways. I suppose it's more so that I have a sense of purpose."
"Everyone wants a purpose. But I have to agree with Steve. You still need time to heal."
"Not everything that is broken can be fixed."
"I disagree with that. No matter how much you pulverize something, you can still put it back together in some shape or form. It may look different from what it originally did, but that's the point of experience. If it didn't change us, then there would be no point in doing anything new or different. You'll certainly be a different man by the time you fully heal. We just have to wait and see who that man is."
"And you don't think that's a dangerous idea? What if I turn out worse than I am now?"
Sam shrugged. "Well there you got me. I like to call it faith."
"Why have faith in me?"
"I don't think I've met anyone who has had a shittier life than you but you're still standing; you still try. Besides, even if you fall down and get back up, we'll all be there to drag you around the final lap," Sam replied, squeezing Bucky's shoulder. "Come inside when you're ready. Natasha and Steve won't be leaving until the day after tomorrow."
Bucky only gave a nod, not moving from his post. No one else came outside and for that he was thankful. The day moved on as he barely moved; only occasionally running a hand through his hair. Around noon, when the clouds had begun to gather and it looked like it might rain, Bucky finally turned to head back inside.
His metallic arm looked less robotic without the blaring sun shining on it. It made him feel better and worse all at once.
"I can't be fixed."
AN: So this story is slowly forming a plot. I hope you're enjoying it. Reviews are greatly appreciated.
