Hey dears~ so here you have chapter 3! Enjoy :D
Chapter 3
Steve wrapped his trembling hands around the coffee mug Sam had brought him. He was sitting in the room adjoining the interrogation room, his eyes trained on Bucky who had resumed his sitting position in the corner of the room. "You feeling a little better?" Sam asked Steve after a long, deafening silence. "I think so… I don't know… I honestly don't know."
"I'm really sorry Steve." Sam pulled up a chair to sit next to Steve, "I can't imagine how difficult this is for you." Was he saying that because of the look he'd had on his face while he'd been in there with Bucky or was he saying it because of the way Steve had broken down the moment he was out of the interrogation room? Either way, Steve could understand why the veterans liked to talk to Sam- it helped. Without Sam around, Steve would probably have lost his mind a long, long time ago. He realized then that he needed Sam, especially now, while he was facing a nightmare that wasn't about to end any time soon. "And you're sure you want to follow through with this?" Sam asked him and Steve nodded.
"With every fibre in my body."
Dark red and purple bruises had formed on Steve's throat by now, there where the metal fingers had threatened to crush his trachea. Having been consumed by confusion, anguish and all of the other horrible emotions associated with realizing that Bucky was alive and wrecked, he hadn't noticed that Bucky had been squeezing that tightly. Obviously he had had every intention of killing Steve nice and slowly. "I just… want to know what happened to him to mess him up like this." His voice was hoarse due to the damage Bucky had done to this throat. Sam had told him to stop talking often enough and go see a damn doctor already but Steve refused. It was hard enough to get him to take a break and not barge in there all over again and get another set of bruises from Bucky. Sam had never seen Steve like this. He'd never seen him so desperately driven. It was like all of a sudden, Steve had regained the air he had needed to breathe for so long. "I don't know man." Sam matched Steve's hushed tone of voice, "Whatever it was… part of me doesn't want to find out. It must have been really messed up. I mean I've heard some horrible stuff during the VA sessions but this…" Steve nodded at that. He wished he could share Sam's sentiment about not wanting to know but he felt that he owed it to Bucky to know. That and, maybe if he knew what Bucky had gone through, he would be able to somehow reverse the effects and put his shattered pieces back together again. Bring Bucky back from the nightmare he was stuck in. "He looked right at me and he didn't even know me." Steve breathed, putting the coffee mug down on the table to use his hands to cover his face. He felt old, like he'd aged at least twenty years over the past few hours. His body ached, his throat was dry and sore and his eyes felt like they would after he hadn't slept well for over a month. "I'm sorry buddy." Sam draped his arm across Steve's back in a comforting gesture.
"Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky." Steve muttered.
"I know Steve. I know that you wish he would snap out of it and be the good 'ol Bucky again but… fact is: we don't know if he'll ever be anything like the man you remember. Stuff like this, it can erase an entire person and create a new one." Steve knew how much the truth could hurt, this truth hurting in particular. He wanted to block his ears like a child and pretend like none of this was happening because how come Bucky didn't tell him that the army had accepted him? He was leaving soon and Steve didn't want Bucky to go! He didn't want to be all alone!
Steve closed his eyes, forcing the memory back down and sealing it away for as long as he could. Instead he began focusing on the here and now, trying to figure out the best way to help Bucky. Bucky had to be in there somewhere! He was a stubborn jerk! He wouldn't just disappear like that… right? "So what now?" Steve said when his mind didn't bring forth any plans that didn't put his own life at immediate risk.
"Well you're the only one he didn't try to take apart that much." Sam mulled it over, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest while he thought. Steve waited, knowing that Sam knew more about PTSD than Steve ever felt like he would. Then again both of them knew that this wasn't your normal PTSD victim. "At some point in time we're going to have to confront him with what happened to him and what he did as a result." Sam started slowly, turning over every word in his mind before saying it, "That comes way later though. Right now, it's important to make him feel safe. He's still on the defensive. He's hyper vigilant, which isn't that unusual for war veterans. The problem with him though, is that he's aggressive combined with being hyper vigilant. He'll lash out at anything that moves if we don't get him out of his current mindset. We need to get him to power down his fight-or-flight drive a little, get him to relax. His body must be aching like crazy with how tense he's been these days. Once he's calmed down enough to be handled, we could take him to the station's gym and let him beat down on something until he's too exhausted to move. That'll definitely help him. After that we can start with the therapy." It sounded like a good plan, as did any of Sam's plans, but how on earth were they going to get Bucky to relax? He wanted to kill anything that moved! As if sensing his thoughts, Sam sighed, rubbing his temples with his hands. "I got no clue how to start though." He admitted, "But I know that you're going to have to be the one to actually talk to him and stuff."
"You're probably right." Steve nodded, "Is it okay if I try and play on some memories we have together?"
"You can try but I doubt he'll respond at all. Right now, his mind is shutting everything out." Again Steve nodded, picking up his cup and making his way out of the room without a word.
Twenty minutes later he returned with a burger for Sam, which Sam accepted gratefully, and a plastic bag with more food in it. "You brought him food?" Sam arched an eyebrow at Steve who smiled back wryly. "Well yeah. He's gotta be starving."
"Didn't you hear the part about him refusing to eat?" Sam asked him, recalling the long conversation they'd had with Rhodey before the Colonel left them to it. "I know but these are burgers. Buck loves burgers!" And with that, Steve whirled around on his heel, grabbing his shield with his free hand and marching over to the interrogation room. Sam sighed, picking up the remote on the table and eying the big red emergency button warily. He really hoped that he wouldn't have to use it any time soon. He trusted Steve, damn it he'd trust Steve with his life a thousand times over but Bucky…? This man… well, he wasn't really a man at all, was he?
As soon as Steve was standing in front of the door to the interrogation room, his brave-face fell off and he bit his lip. He put down the plastic bag with food for a second to slip on his shield, once again liking the way it felt to hold. He hadn't gone in to see Bucky ever since he was assaulted the first time, fear playing a huge role in that decision. At the same time, he was desperate to be close to Bucky, to convince himself that Bucky was alive and that he wasn't just dreaming. Most of the time all he wanted to do was touch him to convince himself that Bucky was real but that would undoubtedly earn him broken bones and a hospital bill and, well he didn't want Bucky to snap out of it one day and realize how badly he's hurt Steve. His palms were sweaty so he wiped them off on his dark blue jeans, taking a deep, calming breath before resting his hand on the door handle.
With another shaky breath he opened the door and went inside, closing the door behind him as quickly as he could.
The tension was back in Bucky's shoulders and Steve found his eyes glued to the well-built former soldier. This time he knew how quickly the other man could move so he was prepared, or at least, told himself he was. Steve's body was tense, his muscles coiled together tightly, ready to spring into action at Steve's command. It was so still in the room for a moment that he could hear his drumming heartbeat, feel it in his throat. He parted his lips ever so slightly to let out a calming, soundless breath slowly. As soon as he moved to set down the rustling bag on the floor, Bucky was on his feet. His eyes were alert, anxiety flowing over into aggression within seconds. Steve put down the bag hurriedly before lifting his hands to show that he didn't have anything on him. Bucky's protruding eyes darted between the bag on the floor and Steve for a moment, his breathing evening out gradually. He eyed Steve for a moment longer before deciding that it was just the strange man from earlier. Bucky let out a slow breath, clenching and unclenching his jaw while he waited for Steve to make a move. "Again," Steve spoke quietly, "I'm not here to hurt you Bucky." Bucky's body went rigid, as if he wanted to pounce but then he let out a forced breath, rolling his shoulders to expend some of the tension in his body. His facial expression was unreadable, his eyes as dead as they had been a few hours earlier. Once again Steve noticed how haunted Bucky looked. It made his heart ache and made him want to shake the truth out of Bucky so he could find who did this to him and make them pay dearly. "I'm going to leave that bag there," he gestured to the white plastic bag slowly, "And you can go look what's inside. It's not going to hurt you, don't worry." He stepped to the side slowly, letting Bucky see every part of his body as he did, assuring him that he was no threat whatsoever. Eventually he was standing against the wall opposite to the door, leaving enough space for Bucky to move around without feeling more boxed in than he already did. Bucky continued to glare at him for a moment before his eyes darted to the plastic bag and then back to Steve. "Come on big guy, no one here that's gonna hurt you." Steve tried again, noting the way Bucky's eyebrows furrowed at his change of tone. When Bucky still hadn't budged, Steve let himself slide down against the wall, sitting against the corner of the room. He lifted his shield to lean it against his legs, pulling his knees up to his chest. He did this in an attempt to make himself look small and he also knew that Bucky knew that if Steve were to try and get up to hurt him, Bucky would notice before Steve was on his feet. Seemingly convinced by Steve's peace gesture, Bucky walked over to the plastic bag slowly. His gate was heavy and he tilted off to the left side a little while he waked, the movement reminiscent of the way his shoulders used to sway with confidence while he walked. Steve could see the muscles in Bucky's back flex under the tight red shirt and he once again found himself amazed at how much sheer muscle he had gained over the past four years. Bucky leant down slowly, picking up the plastic bag with his metal hand. He frowned at the rustling sound it made and Steve guessed he must be sensitive to sound. Steve stayed perfectly still and quiet while Bucky moved to his chair to sit down again. He opened the bag once he was seated bringing forth two Styrofoam containers. The smell of hot burgers filled the room and Steve could feel his stomach want to growl. Bucky let the plastic bag drop to the floor next to him, holding one container in each hand, inspecting them with a straight face. "One of them…" Steve cleared his throat, "One of them is for me. I mean, I haven't eaten all day…" Bucky's eyes snapped up to his and Steve held his breath. Realization flashed into Bucky's eyes and he looked down at the containers, finally seeming to know what they entailed. "It doesn't matter which one you give me, they're both the same." Steve added after a long silence. After another few contemplative moments, Bucky put one of the Styrofoam containers on the floor and pushed it over to Steve. He watched it slide across the floor before it bumped against the front of his shield.
Steve let down his shield slowly, stretching his legs out in front of his body and putting the shield down on them face up. Once he'd done that, he put the container on the shield, using it as a table. Bucky watched him warily, his shoulders tensing again, obviously unhappy with how much Steve was moving. Steve popped open the lid, smiling down at the freshly made take-out burger before him. "You used to love these." He heard himself say, "But only when they took off the onions. I made them take off the onions on both because I didn't know which one you would take." He averted his eyes from the burger to Bucky, finding nothing but a vacant stare directed at him. With a heavy-hearted sigh, he turned his attention back to his food and started eating. It took Bucky a while to follow suit. At first all he did was watch Steve, seeming to memorize how Steve ate the burger and the fries before mimicking him and doing the same.
They ate in a comfortable silence. Steve felt so at home in Bucky's familiar presence and yet he had never felt quite so lonely before. It was like he was talking to a phantom, to the man in the moon that would stare down at him but never reply, staying close enough to see but too far away to touch. He wanted to hear Bucky's voice, he wanted to hear Bucky talk to him again the way he used to and damn it Stevie! Why do you keep having to pick a fight with guys three times your size?! I ain't always gonna be around to bail out your skinny ass!
Steve put down his half eaten burger, frowning down at it for a moment realizing that his appetite was gone. He pushed the Styrofoam container away a little, carefully, making sure it didn't slide off the dome-shaped shield.
Who was he kidding?
Sure Bucky was back but Bucky wasn't Bucky anymore. He wanted to hope that things would change but a pessimistic voice in the back of his head said to stop being a naïve kid. Every time anyone mentioned Bucky, he'd revert back to that sixteen-year old boy from Brooklyn who would sit in class, doodling in his textbooks and who would pick fights with bullies after school. Grown-up Steve didn't know how to handle this. Grown-up Steve had mournfully accepted that Bucky was gone. Now Bucky was back and his whole world was upside down and in ruins. He was happy that Bucky was back and yet he wasn't- he was suffering! More than he ever had. Bucky was so close to him and yet he had never been farther away and Steve had never felt more useless. It was like he was there just to watch, to watch as the world showed him what those four years had done to the person he would throw his life away for at a drop of a hat.
He let out a sigh, not realizing that this had drawn Bucky's attention back to him.
Bucky eyed Steve, noting the frown on his face and the way his eyes scanned the surface of the shield idly. His body was slightly tense and his breathing was erratic. The man was obviously in pain. His eyes found the deep purple bruises on his throat. He remembered. He did that. He hurt him. He hurt… Steve? Yes, his name was Steve. The name wanted to make him feel something, scratched at something long forgotten but his mind refused to give him the memories associated with blonde hair and blue frustrated him, made him edgy. His hands itched to destroy and his shoulders tensed. He shoved another mouthful of burger into his mouth, chewing it angrily. God Buck do you have to stuff the thing in your mouth like that? Careful or you'll choke!
His breath hitched and he swallowed his entire mouthful in one go. Pain coursed through his body as if it had taken the place of his blood, making him want to curl forward. No… He wasn't allowed to remember, wasn't allowed to think! When he remembered, they hurt him. They made him scream and scream and scream until his voice gave out. His metal hand found the seat of the chair and he squeezed his hand shut, bending the metal out of shape, crushing it under his strong grip. The weaker material groaned under the force and Bucky caught sight of Steve looking up now. "Buck? Are you alright?" His voice was drenched in concern and Bucky clenched his jaw. Why was he concerned? He had hurt him! He had thought up 214 ways to kill Steve the moment he had walked through the door but yet this man, this stranger, was bringing him food and was concerned about him. No one cared about a weapon! No one! A weapon was made to function and if it didn't function then it was reset! It was reset because it was useless, damaged, broken! He was broken! He was malfunctioning! This hadn't ever happened before- it wasn't supposed to happen! He was thinking! He was feeling!
Blue eyes, blonde hair. Small… no… but yes… so small and fragile and Bucky I don't need you protecting me! I can look after myself jus' fine y'know?
Bucky… Bucky?
"Bucky? Are you-." He got up, picked up the chair and hurled it against the wall with as much force as the metal arm gave him. The sound of metal hitting metal jerked him out of it and he flinched back against the wall. His heart began racing, his senses soaring into combat mode. Steve was on his feet, his shield placed across his front to protect him.
Steve watched Bucky with anxious eyes. What had set him off? Steve hadn't done anything and yet Bucky was back to square one. Bucky's eyes were darting around the room, searching it for any threats until they came to rest on Steve… a threat. His shoulders were heaving up and down with his rushed, deep breaths and his hands were both clenched. "You're okay." Steve remembered what Sam had done when he'd had the panic attack, "You're in the New York Police Department. I'm Steve Rogers, your friend, and you… you're James Buchanan Barnes and-."
"Shut up!" Bucky yelled at him, throwing himself at the metal shield in front of Steve like a bull chasing a red cloth, blind with rage. His fist came down on the shield again and he cringed at the sound but didn't relent, pushing with all the force he could muster up. Steve was pushed into the wall again like last time, his free hand clasping onto the side of the shield to hold it in place. The look in Bucky's eyes was frenzied. He looked confused and horrified, like his whole world was closing in on him and he was lashing out aimlessly, trying to gain control over a situation that had long since slipped out of his grasp. "Bucky come on." Steve pleaded and Bucky scowled. His hand shifted, grabbing a hold of the shield, and, with one quick movement, lifting Steve over his head and sending him flying across the room and against the same wall as the chair. Steve landed on top of the chair and table, groaning in pain when the edge of the table dug its way into his back. The shield lay a few feet away, out of his reach and completely forgotten. "I don't remember anything!" Bucky yelled at Steve, rushing over to Steve and yanking him up by his shirt. Steve's arms were draped on the floor numbly. He was too dazed and in too much pain to put up much of a fight. Bucky lifted his metal hand, drawing his arm back to punch and Steve let him. Steve let Bucky bring his fist down on his face over and over and over again because this was his fault. It had to be. It had to be his fault that Bucky turned out like this. He should have been there, right at Bucky's side to protect him. But he was small and sickly, hardly army material. And what had he done the day Bucky left? He had locked himself into his apartment like a sulking child, refusing to come out. It hadn't changed Bucky's mind… he still left. And now he was back and Steve was getting what he deserved because God damnit Steve open the damn door! Stop makin' this harder for the both of us! You know I gotta leave! I gotta do what's right! I'll be back Stevie. Before you know. Before you know I'll be back and I'll make sure you never gotta be on your own again. Just please open the door so I can say goodbye properly.
But he never did… he never opened that damn door for Bucky…
Tears filled Steve's eyes while Bucky continued to yell at him, accentuating every word he spat out with a skull-crushing punch. "I. Don't. Remember. Anything!" His voice was as rough, cracking at the end of each word and filled with rage. His eyes were crazy. He had lost complete control of himself and had lost his grasp on reality. The only thing he saw was the blood running down Steve's face from his nose and the laceration on his cheek. The skin there was starting to bruise already and millions of tiny spots of blood dotted his previously immaculate cheek. Bucky pulled back his arm again, ready to punch but something shifted in Steve's face and their eyes locked. "That's okay…" He whispered between gasps for air, his parted lips letting blood run into his mouth. The taste made him want to vomit. "I'm gonna help you remember Buck. 'Cause I'm… with you… till the end of the line."
Something jolted through Bucky from head to toe and back and his eyes widened, filling with a fine layer of tears. Emotions that he had forgotten he had bubbled up in him, taking a hold of him like a roaring inferno, making him tremble and bringing something inside of him back to life. Uncomprehensive images flashed through his mind the way they would when he was being wiped. He remembered a scrawny teenager, standing in front of a run-down apartment and you don't have to go through this on your own Steve. You know that right? 'Cause I'm with ya till the end of the line, pal.
A pained smile. Music. But what did it sound like? A small hand punching him in the shoulder. Did it hurt? What did it feel like? Scuffling in an alley, hurting other men who hurt him. Wanting to hurt them more but he couldn't- wasn't allowed to. He had to look after him, that small guy… he had to make sure he was okay. He was important. More important than hurting people.
Blue eyes, blond hair that always got in his face and damn he was just so tiny and feisty and-.
Steve watched mortification spread over Bucky's features. Recognition sparked into his eyes that were trembling and red from unspoken tears. His mouth hung open and his lips quivered. Steve couldn't wrap his mind around the pure, undiluted amounts of agony that poured out of Bucky's eyes and it made his own heart clench. He wanted to say something but his breath was caught in his throat. When the pain in Bucky's eyes was almost too much to bear and Steve was considering looking away, Bucky drew in a shaky breath, his face contorting with more pain than possibly imaginable while his lips parted again and he said,
"Steve."
There you go~ I really, really hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think! I promise the ff isn't all sad. Happiness will ensure eventually ;)
Thank you so much for sticking wtih the ff! I really hope you'll keep reading :D
