Pretender
Insight Minicarrier – 2:05 AM
He tried to avoid it. Tried ignoring it, even if it had been staring him in the face like a reflection in the mirror. He kept himself busy to avoid thinking about it. With as busy as the team had been the last two days, he had to focus on the tasks that were at hand at the time, and nothing else. Allowing his mind to wonder to the future could have meant someone dying. Or, at least that's what he told himself.
Now, he had no choice. Nowhere to run, nothing else to think about. This was the only thing on hand, because everything was about to come to a head.
While the others slept in preparation of the day ahead of them, Bucky was wide awake. Waves of anxiety crashed over his insides like rock masses within a tempestuous sea. His mouth felt dry, cracked. Nerves were frazzled and guilt combined with insecurity to make sure that he wasn't going to get any sleep any time soon.
Before him was a glass case. Within that glass case were the contents of the metal briefcase given to him by Peter as a proxy for Victoria Hand. He wishes she had forgotten. He wished that they had left minutes before she could find Parker or anyone else from the team.
He wished Fury wouldn't have listened to Steve. He should have known that he wasn't up for this.
The uniform lacked the spangles that Steve's was famous for, thank God. It was shiny where it was red, white and blue, on the cowl and torso, everywhere else was black. Much like his life; very little patriotism and a lot of shadowy things best left right there, in the shadows. People like him didn't belong in the light, where all of his flaws and shortcomings were visible. Steve wasn't perfect, but he was closer to perfect than Bucky would ever be.
In his hand was the letter from Steve. It was addressed to Nick Fury.
Nick,
If you're reading this, then things have gone even worse than we thought. The worst is still to happen, so I'm trusting you to do two things: Don't let Bucky drift back into anger and confusion. He has a chance at a new life - help him find his way. Savehimforme!
As for Captain America, the part of it that is bigger than me- that's always been bigger than me- don't let it die, Nick.
America needs a Captain, maybe now more than ever. Don't let that dream die.
Yours,
Steve
Coulson told him, when he gave it to him right before they left the Negative Zone, that Steve wrote it two days before the battle in Munich. Steve had to have known that they weren't going to survive to the end. The bastard.
Fury apparently thought it appropriate to kill two birds with one stone and answer both of Steve's requests with the same action. Why Fury thought that this was a good idea was beyond him. He wasn't worthy. America's Captain should have been pure of heart and clean of conscience. He was neither. Blood dripped from his ledger like an overflowing faucet. His heart was black, burned by years of unsavory things done in over seventy years.
Steve was bright, shining like a star in the night sky. He was dark, like a black hole; sucking any optimism and positivity out of the air.
He wasn't good enough. Wasn't optimistic enough to be able to guide everyone out of the dark moments like he was supposed to.
He shouldn't wield this shield. The star on his metal arm was painted white, like the star in the center of that shield. But, it was just a white sheet trying to cover all the vile things he had done in his past. The unbreakable resolve that it represented wasn't found in him, anywhere. He was unbreakable, like Steve was; he wasn't even bend-but-don't-break. He was a glass figurine in a bull kennel, always scantily close to being shattered into a million pieces. Pieces that he had no way of ever pulling back together by himself.
If he led this team, or was even looked to for some kind of inspiring words, like he knew he would be, then he would be guiding them right into a mass grave, one more coffin under Zemo's feet.
He couldn't do this. He wouldn't, because he knew that he was going to fail. Failure wasn't an option, so he wasn't even going to waste everyone's time and hope by putting on thus uniform and by sliding on this shield.
Steve just wanted him to be kept out of the anger and confusion that he always felt after being brought back from the Red Room. He could do that. He wanted to.
Fury wanted him to be a leader, an inspiration to the others. That, he couldn't do.
He wasn't Captain America. He was just a pretender.
A/N: Short and to the point this chapter. Hopefully you've enjoyed the ride, because the home stretch begins next chapter :)