Bucky had a schedule. A timetable he created in his head every night as he got ready for bed. He followed it conscientiously from the moment the sun came up. All part of a long term roadmap to his recovery.
Same as his journals, the planning was supposed to help Bucky evaluate the things that seemed important to him and put them in a sensible order. Every day a new routine. Sam had suggested it, long before Bucky immigrated to Wakanda and became the White Wolf. Eventually, it stuck.
There were plenty of things to do around the farm and the hut. Enough to keep a supersoldier busy in Steve's absence.
On this fine day, Bucky had:
Slept for a solid 8 hours (no nightmares).
Gotten up at sunrise as per usual.
Made a fire one-handedly.
Brewed his tea (using homegrown medical marijuana instead of Marula bark because of the annoyingly high pain level he was in for today).
Took his meds (4 blue pills and one red if he was feeling particularly anxious).
Washed his body. Not in the tub outside and certainly not tending to all parts with equal care like Steve thought he should. Maybe one day he could stand it.
Brushed his teeth (only mostly without gagging after he hit the back of his throat too hard).
Ate breakfast made from vegetables he grew in his own garden.
Fed the goats (or not because they were still out on the pastures somewhere and Bucky had spaced out and forgotten about all of that again because it was one of those days).
Made the bed. Cleaned the hut from top to bottom. Fumigated the space with sweet-scented smoke to lose the sharp chemical smell.
And last but not least, played hide and seek with the children.
All in all, he had done many things that were supposed to make him feel better, like he was in control again.
So, yeah... Bucky had a schedule to follow, alright? His spots were filled. Antagonizing the guards because Mandlakhe was a backstabbing cunt with no empathy who had no idea what he was fucking talking about, wasn't on there.
So, he wasn't going say anything. He really wasn't but somehow, by their own accord, his legs took him there faster than reason.
How dare he? Bucky's mind screamed at him. How fucking dare he judge me after what I've been through? For the one thing he has absolutely no reason to? The one thing—
"Hey," Bucky called out with venom once he had caught up to the guy. "Hey, shithead!"
Mandlakhe turned around and cracked a smile as thin as the outer layer of a peeled grape.
"Ah, the Winter Soldier..." he sneered. "What a pleasant surprise. How can I be of service today?"
Bucky glared at him, then he put on an equally fake expression that bordered on creepy Stepford wive.
"That's not my name. But I'm so glad you asked. See, it's dangerous out here, right? I feel like having protection on my way home. Come walk with me."
When Mandlakhe didn't move, Bucky dropped the fake smile. He stepped closer and hissed at him.
"Walk with me or I'm calling the fucking king himself to come down here and deal with you, alright?! I'm sure he won't be happy to hear you've been neglecting your sacred guard duties. You know... Being the loyal subject that you are."
Bucky clapped Mandlakhe on the back with slightly more strength than necessary just to hear him cough. Then he turned on his heal and started walking in the other direction, making his way home.
He listened to Mandlakhe struggle with himself as he went. The guy was shuffling his feet for a good 30 seconds or so until he finally made up his mind and followed him in fast strides.
Bucky slowed his steps deliberately, but never quite enough for the other man to catch up. Other than that, he didn't acknowledge his presence.
By the time they finally reached his hut, Bucky's whole body was vibrating with suppressed anger but he couldn't risk the children overhearing them.
"For Bast's sake..." Mandlakhe called after him. "Would you wait up? What is it that you want?" he asked, noticeably out of breath.
"What do you think?"
Bucky pushed the colorful woven curtain out of the way which covered the entrance of his hut and provided some privacy. They had recently installed it, right before Steve's departure.
If it slapped Mandlakhe in the face as it snapped back, well, that was hardly his fault.
Bucky stopped in the center of the room. He turned around to watch Mandlakhe trail after him with a curse on his lips. Then he got right to it.
"Listen... I need to talk to you, man! What you said about me to the kids— It's fucking cruel, ok? I didn't ask to be assaulted in my own home! Why would you tell your brother that? The fuck's wrong with you..."
Mandlakhe cleared his throat but he didn't seem guilty or embarrassed about the accusations in the least. Instead, he raised his chin up high like he was gearing up for a fight.
"This isn't your America," he announced loudly, voice hard and cold enough to give Bucky a chill. "I can say what I want here to my own flesh and blood. You don't control us. My personal opinion on the matter... It doesn't concern you."
Bucky stared at him open-mouthed.
"Yes, it fucking does! What you're teaching these kids is complete bullshit and it's dangerous, man! I mean, 'men can't get raped?' Seriously? Is that something you read in a magazine once? What do you know about it?"
Mandlakhe shook his head and snorted at him in barely hidden disgust.
"I do not know, and I do not care to know about it, but I am sure that you had your reasons to go with them and play along instead of calling for help as you should have..."
Bucky's blood started to boil.
Seriously... What the fuck?
"They had guns!" he shouted with blazing anger, "Loaded ones! They put them against my head, against the children's heads. Do you really think what they did to me was consensual? That's not how it fucking works!"
"Yes, it is!" Mandlakhe hissed. "A real warrior would have died before servicing the enemy the way you did! Cowards don't earn my respect. That's all you need to know..." he scoffed with his arms crossed in front of his body.
"Bullshit!" Bucky screamed louder, shaking with rage and the injustice of it all. He'd given so much...
"That's such bullshit! If I'd let them kill me instead, your kid brother would be dead now, wouldn't he?!"
Mandlakhe turned away from him, trying to leave like he couldn't be bothered.
Bucky stopped him with a rough hand on his shoulder, fingers digging in hard. He shoved and turned Mandlakhe back around with the force of an enhanced being on the brink of a nervous collapse.
"Wouldn't he? Answer me! He's six goddamn years old!" Bucky cried, ignoring the tears in his eyes which were threatening to fall.
"Do you realize what they would have done to him before the end? —No?! Cuz' I sure do! I know exactly what they would have done! So, fuck you and your stupid pride! What kind of a brother are you anyway? You'd rather have him go through that and scrape his shredded brains off the walls?!"
Mandlakhe kept glaring at him with unmasked hostility and shook his head again, in disbelief.
"Answer me, man!" Bucky demanded.
"No," the warrior hissed and poked him in the chest reproachfully. Bucky barely managed not to flinch back.
"No, I wouldn't! But you were their fighter, were you not? The Winter Soldier? A famous murderer for their cause... You could at least have killed the men when they were distracted! If not before it happened then later when they were sated and drunk on their victory over you. How could you let them get away with it?! I would have killed them or died trying! Where is your honor?! Don't you care what people say?!"
Bucky laughed at him without any humor and threw his hand up in the air.
"Oh my god, so that's what it's all about then? Your fucking reputation?! Your shitty pride?! You sure you wanna talk about honor to me?"
At that, Mandlakhe's hand white-knuckled his spear and he stomped his feet like a child.
"My brother lives with these images for the rest of his life, and yet here you stand! Given our charity! Alive and well! You did nothing. Nothing!"
Bucky had to look away. He'd done plenty. Enduring the rape and keeping the children quiet had been no small feat - whether Mandlakhe was ready to acknowledge his sacrifice or not. He'd never asked for charity, and he'd never gotten it. He'd never—
Bucky felt his control slipping. This guy needed to stop talking before he put him through a wall.
"Shut up," he said, clenching his jaw tightly. "Just... Shut up!"
"Why did you let them escape if you did not want them to come back here?" Mandlakhe jeered, gaining ground. "See? Surely it was not so bad then!"
"Jesus! You really think that was fun, huh?! That I couldn't get enough of it?" Bucky went on, hating his shrill voice for breaking the way it did.
He took another step towards Mandlakhe to look him in the eyes and make him understand. It was all right there, the whole truth: The pain, and the hurt, and the humiliation.
"Do you know what it's like to be torn apart down there?" Bucky asked, his tone getting more vicious with every word.
Mandlakhe had the audacity to roll his eyes and dart him a disdainful look as if Bucky had said something inappropriate.
"Course not... That's what I thought. So, let me clue you in on a little secret: It hurts like fucking hell! They went at me so hard, I needed goddamn stitches! They shoved their dicks and their weapons inside me dry, as for as they could go, like it didn't matter anyways! It wasn't exactly a party, alright? I wasn't even hard! I was bleeding all over the place by the time they were finished! Hell, by the end of it, I could hardly even walk!"
Mandlakhe gave him another unimpressed but deeply disgusted look. Then he snorted and tried to turn away again.
"Yeah, that's right, dickhead!" Bucky said. "You still don't believe me, do you? That's rich. You know what?"
Bucky grabbed his arm and pulled him along, towards the wall where the Hydra soldiers had guarded the children. He could still see their little faces, frightened and without a lick of understanding for what was going on.
"Why don't you take a long hard look at my scarred asshole then? See if you're still convinced that men can't get raped after all."
Mandlakhe started to struggle for real, trying to break free from Bucky's hold.
"What?! Are you crazy?! Let go of me!"
Bucky didn't listen to him, shoving him forward towards the corner where the mattress lay on the ground.
"Fuck it, I'll do you one better! You want a turn to get even for what I did to your poor family? Is that what it's gonna take? Fine! Sit back and enjoy the freak show! Cuz' I gotta tell ya', everyone's been there by now and one more sadistic fuck getting his rocks off on my account is not gonna make a difference!"
"I hope Rogers is not the jealous type," Ward had said as Number 5 and 6 tried to work their way into Bucky's aching body together, ripping the delicate skin apart while he muffled a tortured scream, "otherwise, this might get awkward..."
"No! You will let me go, right now!" Mandlakhe protested again, trying to shove him off and losing his spear in the prospect. It hit the floor with an ominous clang.
"What's wrong?! Cheer up, buddy! This is your lucky day!"
Bucky let go of the man abruptly once they had reached the mattress and the warrior tumbled to the ground without grace.
This was the exact spot. The room hadn't really changed at all since that day except for the new kitchen table.
Bucky should have burned it all down.
Mandlakhe pushed himself up into a proper position but he didn't try to leave again for some reason. He just sat there transfixed and watched as Bucky pulled the blue-striped Shuka over his head in one go.
Bucky threw it at the man's feet like an accusation.
The warrior seemed frozen, caught in some kind of weird fascination. His eyes traveled here and there, staring up at Bucky's naked body, aghast.
Bucky was used to the horror. His whole front was covered in scars, some fading, others thick and standing out. Whip marks, burns, cuts, and bullet holes. Every single one of them told their own painful story.
His back was much worse.
"What? Are you gun shy now?" Bucky snarled. "Come on. I'll bend right over for you! Let's see if your theory holds up. You can even bring that spear of yours and fuck me open with it. You'd be doing me a favor really. Guy like me? Who knows... Maybe I'll like that, too!"
"Bucky," Steve said out of nowhere with an eerie calm.
The two men nearly jumped out of their skin as they turned towards the noise. "What the hell is going on here?"
Steve, his travel bag still in hand, was staring at them from the other end of the room. It seemed as if he had been standing there for a while now, listening to every word. The curtain at the entrance must have hidden him from sight, Bucky realized with a sickening feeling. That's why they hadn't noticed him at all.
The gravity of the situation crept up on him slowly, much like the heat of a burn.
His mind came to a screeching halt.
What the hell was he doing?
He had just invited another man into their home— No, bullied him to follow him here and then he'd what... Sexually harassed the guy? Offered his body to him? To be fucked? To be hurt again?
What was wrong with him? What was he even thinking?
"Bucky?" Steve said, trying to get his attention and starting to sound alarmed. "Buck?"
"I... I don't..." Bucky stammered. He realized that he was still naked but he couldn't move, rooted on the spot. It was over. Done. He couldn't say anything to make this right.
Steve finally seemed to catch on to Bucky's state of mind, probably pitying his complete inability to keep his fucking life in order for a single week on his own. He began to move towards him, all business-like.
Bucky told himself to cower at his boyfriend's feet and beg for forgiveness while there was still time, but nothing happened. He couldn't move a muscle.
"Ok, whatever this is, it stops right now. Bucky, put your clothes back on," Steve ordered sternly, and then he pointed at Mandlakhe. "You. Get the hell out of my house."
If Steve hadn't been there...
Bucky stood perfectly still as Mandlakhe fled the scene without another word. He even left the spear behind, tripping over his own feet on the way out.
The seconds ticked by as slow as molasses. Bucky still couldn't move at all.
"Do you remember where you are? Buck? Hey, you're not hurt, are you?"
When he didn't answer, Steve fixed him with the strangest look on his face. Then he picked up the discarded Shuka on the floor and dusted it off.
If he hadn't been there...
"Buck? Can you put this on so we can talk, please?" Steve prompted. "Do you remember where you are?"
Breaking up with a guy naked didn't seem like something Steve would do... Maybe if he didn't wear any clothes for the rest of his life and walked around naked forever there was still a chance, Bucky thought hysterically.
Steve held out the Shuka in his direction and he recoiled from the movement subconsciously, as if expecting to be hit.
"Shit... Sorry. Hey... It's ok..." Steve shook his head and advanced in small, light steps.
He kept going forward until he was close enough to drape the fabric over his partner's shoulders gently.
Bucky's body shook like a leaf.
"Shh... No one's gonna hurt you. It's ok. Can you tell me what happened?"
If Steve hadn't been there...
"I— I don't know," Bucky whispered. "Please, you... You have to believe me, I'd never— I'd never cheat on you..."
Liar... Too little too late...
Bucky felt a bunch of tears run down his face freely. "Fuck, Steve— I'd never— Please... I swear... I didn't mean to—"
"I know you wouldn't," Steve assured him patiently, despite all the evidence to the contrary. As if he hadn't just caught Bucky naked and offering himself to another man. "I know. That's not where I was going with this..."
"I didn't think—" Bucky stammered on, caught in a senseless loop of shame and guilt. "I didn't mean to— He just— Fuck! I didn't think—"
Maybe Mandlakhe was right. Maybe he had wanted it. Everything they did to him. Maybe he deserved it for being such a greedy little—
"Bucky," Steve said again, and then more sharply, "hey!" commanding his attention with the snap of his fingers.
"Eyes on me, soldier! Focus! Snap out of it, come on... You're spiraling again. Please... Stop this."
Bucky blinked sluggishly, once, twice.
Then, as if all his strings had been cut, his legs buckled out from under him, tired of supporting his tightly-wound body. He dropped to his knees like a hunk of dead weight and sobbed his heart out.
"Oh my god! Oh my god... I'm so sorry! How could I do that to you? How could I...? I just— I wanted to confront him. He said— You can't imagine what— But I shouldn't have— Fuck!"
"Bucky, calm down..."
"Why can't I think straight anymore? I just haven't been sleeping well. That's it! I haven't— I— Please, Steve... Don't leave me!"
"What?" Steve asked, sounding distraught. "Why would I—"
"Steve— I swear, I didn't mean to—" Bucky cut him off. His bottom lip quivered miserably. "I— I can't... I just can't..."
"Jesus... Bucky, listen to me."
Steve sat down on the ground beside him and wrapped him in his arms, rocking him softly - the way a parent would to console their child after a nightmare.
"Shh... Listen: I don't own you. No one does. You know that, right?"
We own you...
Your ass belongs to Hydra forever...
Filthy little whore...
Bucky cried harder.
Steve let him sob, and shake, and pet his hair as if he wasn't disgusted with him. Not as he should be anyways because Steve was a fucking saint.
Bucky didn't deserve his kindness, to be treated as if he was more than a disloyal, cheating mess of tears and snot.
"...I'm not mad, baby..." Steve murmured. "I swear. I'm not gonna leave you."
They didn't call each other endearments outside of the bedroom. Steve almost never called him 'baby', except as a joke or when Bucky was really losing it. If he hadn't known what a fucking disaster this was already, he sure as hell would now.
"Not ever, you hear? Especially not over something like this."
"But I— Steve if you hadn't come..."
"I know, baby, I know, but I was here. This time, I was here..."
Steve sniffled in his hair quietly, trying to hide his own tears and tough it out. At least one of them had to. Bucky clutched at his shirt so hard he could hear the seems tear.
Of course Steve had found some twisted way to blame himself for the whole thing, and this was it. He'd been too late to stop Ward and the others. Now he was giving Bucky some sort of a free pass for it.
"...And even if you had, you know, 'made it' with that guy— I mean, I'm not gonna lie because I would have been a little bummed about it at first, finding out like this— But if that was something you really wanted or needed to get over Hydra then that's alright. We could have talked about it. Found a way. Most of all, I'm just concerned for you."
Steve kissed the top of Bucky's head, like he wasn't filthy, like he was something precious, something rare, something to keep.
"I'm so sorry but I don't want anyone else," Bucky begged suddenly, meaning every word. "Just you! I love you! Please... I don't want anyone else—"
"Ok," Steve said, "just me."
"Just you," Bucky confirmed, full of gratitude and feverish enthusiasm, "forever. For rest of my entire miserable life! I swear, I don't want that guy. At all. He's a real asshole. I was just angry and you're you and... You're too good," Bucky protested weakly, shivering and clutching his boyfriend's back with one hand.
"You're too good for me, Steve. Always were."
"Oh sweetheart. But I'm not," Steve said, turning him in his arms and kissing Bucky's forehead. "I'm really not."
"You are. I don't know why I did that... What is wrong with me?"
"Not a damn thing, Buck..."
Steve hid a pained smile against his partner's cheek.
"Not a damn thing."