Authors note: We are nearing the end of this tail,… hang in their yall!
The next few days were hard for Bucky, who's nightmares left him exhausted and on edge, dark circles under his eyes. He avoided interacting with the team and barley spoke to anyone but Steve and his therapist who increased his evening medication to assist with sleep and combat the renewed intensity of night terrors. Perhaps the worst had been the morning after he had remembered, when he asked Steve with a nervous tremor in his voice if the other Avengers knew about Hydra's sexual abuse. The Captain had nodded slowly, and Bucky's face crumbled before he ran his hands through his hair and turned away, asking to be left alone as he locked himself in his room. Since then he had not brought it up again but simply isolated himself and refused to leave the medical suite.
Steve tried not to push him as recommended by the Therapist who suggested that Bucky needed time to process how he felt and come to terms with it before he could be expected to move forward. Sam did his best to be there for the Captain and tried to keep him focused on other things, but Steve still felt a sense of anxiety and restless agitation at his own inability to fix this wrong.
It was Natasha who finally interrupted Bucky's seclusion by forcing him to join her on a six day excursion out of the city to a safe house she and Clint used in upstate New York. The trip was sudden and without notice as Steve was left with a neatly hand written note from the Widow simply stating that she and Barnes were going to the country for a bit and that she would check in every evening but that they needed space.
The Captain paced his room that first night, fingers itching to call and text Natasha for the tenth time but resisting only because she had turned off her phone after his fifth call that evening. Each day Steve felt like climbing the walls and no amount of time spent in the gym, or consulting with military combat units, running drills and training could settle the discomfort and edgy feeling that kept him up at night and distracted during the day. He tried to re-read literature on how to support survivors of trauma but the words would not absorb and instead he found his mind wandering, a nauseous cramp in his gut as he pictured Bucky forced to submit to Hydra's perverted abuse. Steve felt worse than he had in all the months since they had rescued Bucky and he couldn't help but obsessively worry that his friend was suffering somewhere alone.
This thought was challenged by his awareness that his best friend was in fact not alone because Natasha was there with Bucky but that only made him feel somehow more dejected, wanting to be the one to comfort the man he loved in his time of need. Steve knew he was being selfish and that added to his mounting guilt, compounding his own feelings of helplessness and frustration.
On the third day of Bucky's absence Sam and Bruce managed to convince Steve he needed to go talk with Bucky's therapist who helped him to open up and process his own intense emotions and feelings related to Bucky's abuse. Steve had been reluctant at first to talk about himself and only wanted to focus on how he could help Bucky but eventually he accepted that he was struggling to deal with his own reaction and realization of what his lover had been subjected to and his guilt over their intimacy. Steve admitted that he blamed himself for triggering Bucky's flash back and managed to vocalize his uncertainty on how to support Bucky through his trauma.
Even though Steve had spoken with the Therapist before regarding how to safely explore sexual intimacy with Bucky and issues of consent, the proper gentleman within Steve Rodgers limited how in-depth he was willing to discuss with the female therapist who was in her late 50's and reminded Steve of one of the nuns at his Catholic school. When she did push him for specifics on what he was worried about related to his sexual relationship with Bucky, Steve turned a deeper shade of red and struggled to communicate his thoughts. With patience and professional support, the Captain begrudgingly agreed to write down some of his fears on paper and allow the Therapist to look them over so they could address those concerns the following day.
Steve took his time considering how he could best ask his questions without talking about specifics and settled on three main points of concern.
How can I make sure that I don't trigger a flashback when we are in bed together?
How can I make sure he wants to do whatever it is we are doing and not just complying?
How do I even begin talking to him about any of this?
The Captain blushed and thanked Dr. McKenzie as he handed her the folded paper and immediately left the room, feeling incredibly embarrassed and uncomfortable but knowing that her insight would be helpful.
The next day Steve sat nervous and stiff Infront of the therapist who smiled at him politely and offered her observation of his obvious discomfort. She then explained to the Captain that the simple answer to his first two questions was that he couldn't control or prevent every flashback and that he would learn through time what sexual actions would be more likely to trigger his partner. She rationalized that Steve was already very Intune with Bucky's shifting state of consciousness and that he would just need to watch for certain behaviors that were indictive of the compliant asset as oppose to the way Bucky would typically reciprocate their intimacy. She recommended a safe word or way for Steve to check in with Bucky if he was uncertain or concerned about something they were doing. She then went on to encourage Steve to be honest about his own thoughts and feelings about his fear of hurting Bucky and that showing his uncertainty and vulnerability would let Bucky know that they both were figuring things out together and the power dynamic would be less one sided.
Steve had no choice but to accept his own limitations and inability to protect Bucky from his horrific memories of trauma. Still, the idea of touching the man he loved and triggering the fear, shame and degradation that he knew was tied to the violation of his manhood made the Captain apprehensive and conflicted. He wanted Bucky, in every way he could want another living soul, and he carved the touch and feel of his lover, of the man who completed him. However, his own sexual desire made him feel disgusted with himself as he pictured the shattered expression on Bucky's face when he remembered the sick and perverse abuse he suffered all because Hydra knew that he and Captain America had been lovers. These thoughts were twisted in Steve's gut and left him anxiously anticipating Bucky's return.
….
It was late in the evening of the seventh day and Steve was sitting next to Sam who was watching a basketball game excitedly while the Captain stared at the screen without really seeing anything. He offered small smiles and nods whenever Sam would shout or stand up and talk at the TV with exaggerated gestures, but his mind was a thousand miles away, unfocused and distracted.
"Basketball huh?... Was never really big on it,… we were always more into Baseball as kids." Steve's head shot up, as he turned toward the doorway where Bucky was standing with his hands in his jean pockets, a duffle bag slung over his leather jacket. Natasha was leaning casually in the door frame and rolled her eyes.
"God you would grandpa,… slowest, boring game ever played!" She teased as she followed him in, smirking at Steve's shocked expression that was transforming into a flustered blush as his eyes darted between his returned friends before he stood quickly and walked around the couch, hesitating a few feet away, unsure if he should grab Bucky in the crushing hug he wanted to. Bucky gave him an amused expression before offering a gentle smirk and shook his head, closing distance as he set his bag down and slowly pulled Steve into his embrace.
"Hey there Cap… Glade to see me?" Bucky teased as he felt Steve let out a sigh of relief, the weeks' tension dissipating as he melted in Bucky's arms.
"You have no idea!" Steve whispered back, voice brimming with emotion.
"You'd think we were gone for months." Natasha quipped as she sauntered over toward Sam and snagged a handful of Doritos from his offered bag. Sam gave her a steady look, eyebrows raised in the silent communication that asked how things went. She exchanged the wordless expression with Sam that the two had perfected over the months of helping both Steve and Bucky heal and recover from the trauma of Hydra. A small smile and nod with a minute shrug let him know that she had managed to get the Sergeant to open up and accept what happened but that he was still struggling.
"You okay Buck?" Steve asked quietly as he stepped back, worried eyes searching his friend's calm, but pensive expression. Bucky nodded with a huff and offered a shrug, bending down to pick up his duffle bag.
"Better than I was,… Nat is good at shutting down a pity party." Bucky mused as he gave a small nod at the Red head and then walked past Steve with a pat on his shoulder towards his bedroom.
"Barnes." Sam nodded in acknowledgment and Bucky offered a tight lipid smile and nod, making eye contact but briefly.
"Wilson." He responded as he walked past him and opened his door before disappearing inside, leaving it cracked as an obvious invitation for Steve to join him in privacy.
"Drinks upstairs?" Natasha asked Sam with a nod toward the exit of the suite. He glanced back toward the T.V and sighed as he ate another Chip.
"Yea these boys are playing like they haven't even seen a basketball before!" He smirked and turned toward Steve who offered a polite smile but his eyes communicated his anxious energy as he glanced toward Bucky's bed room. Sam took a few steps forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Remember Steve,… You can't fix everything,… just let him sort this out and offer support when he askes." Sam gave Steve a firm nod and The Captain swallowed and nodded back before thanking Natasha who gave him a kiss on his cheek as she headed for the exit, snagging a few more Doritos from Sam who grumbled at her as he followed.
Steve took a deep breath and wiped his face before heading toward the ajar doorway, peaking into the brightly lit bedroom. Bucky's duffle bag was left open on the bed and Steve glance at it before heading through the room toward the open balcony door where his friend, a man he loved without condition, stood overlooking the twilight skyline of the city. Without any words Steve joined Bucky, resting his palms on the cool railing as he glanced at Bucky's side profile and cocked an eye brow at the cigarette that dangled in his friend's lips. Bucky took a drag and then removed the cigarette, blowing out smoke with a sigh before he ashed the embers over the edge. Both sets of blue eyes tracked the ash as it dissipated in the wind 46 floors above New York city.
They remained silent for a few more moments before Bucky spoke, voice quiet and thoughtful as he stared down at the butt of the cigarette.
"I forgot why I liked cigarettes,… I remembered why I never smoked around you though." Bucky smirked and he looked over at Steve with a fond smile. "Even just the smell on my cloths use to give you an asthma attack." Bucky looked over at a trash can and flicked the butt in before raising his pale blue eyes to meet Steve's ocean blue ones.
"I never really craved em' back before the war,… but,… during,…" He looked away, eyes growing distant and brow pinched. "Those nights with the commandos around the fire, passing whiskey and smokes, just trying to keep warm and pretend everything was okay,… like all the death and evil we saw that day couldn't touch us as long as we didn't talk about it." Bucky closed his eyes and winced for a moment before he stepped back and turned to lean against the railing, dragging his gaze back toward Steve who quietly waited and listened, expression considerate and caring, facing his friend with both hands pocketed so he wouldn't reach out before Bucky was ready to be touched.
"The way they smell,… the smoke,… I have all these,… memories, some good,… but,…some of them not so much." Bucky swallowed and lowered his gaze again. "The smell of the smoke reminds me of The Red room, of Russian Guards, of cigarette burns." He looked back at Steve who's jaw clenched as he breathed through his noise.
"Rumlow wasn't the first scumbag who liked using me for an ashtray…" Bucky grunted and shook his head with a sneer of disgust, turning away again and looking over the city, as he leaned over the railing. He closed his eyes for a moment, a wince of phantom pain painted his face before he took in a deep breath and blinked open his eyes. Steve watched quietly as Bucky taped each finger of both hands on the railing, ten taps for a breath in and ten for a breath out. It was one of his many copping strategies encouraged by the Psychiatric team. Steve remained patient and quiet as Bucky repeated the count, fingers slowing as his breathing evened until he swallowed and nodded, a determined expression fixed in place.
"But I ain't a God damn ashtray,…. Or a weapon...or a whore!…..And I will never let anyone make me an Asset,… not again,…. Not as long as I got a mind of my own and a choice." Bucky squared his shoulders as he turned back toward Steve, his gaze was intense and strong but also watery with emotion. He let out a shuddered breath and licked his lips before he bit the side of his mouth and stepped forward slowly. Steve stood up strait and let his hands hang loose at his side.
"You helped me remember who I really am Stevie,… not what Hydra tried to make me into,… and,… as long as you still see me,… Still see me and not,… not the things I've done,…. The things I did that …I,…"Bucky's voice choked and he paused looking away and taking another breath, as the first few tears trickled down his cheeks. Steve took a step forward and reached out for Bucky's metal hand, linking their fingers together and nodding.
"I see you Bucky,… I know you,… and I have nothing but respect and admiration for the courage you have, even after they tried to destroy everything you are." Steve's words were simple, honest and true, spoken as fact. Bucky blinked looking away as he wiped at his eyes and offered a small chuckle.
"I can't believe that after years of conditioning all it takes is some sappy lines from Captain America to make me cry like a baby." Bucky joked, deflecting away from the intensity of his emotions.
"Hey,…" Steve reached up and cupped Bucky's cheek, bring his watery gaze to meet his own steadfast stare. "Remember what the Doc said Bucky… Hydra forced you to act like you felt nothing, they made you dissociate from your emotions for so long that now everything is going to be feel more intense, the good and the bad! Remember?" Steve prompted and Bucky nodded and looked away again, wiping his face before he took a few small steps forward and rest his head on Steve's shoulder as the Captain wrapped him in his arms.
"Yea Stevie, I remember… and I'll try not to forget." Bucky breathed out with a muffled, wet laugh, another joke that was not funny. Steve sighed and hugged him closer as he kissed the side of Bucky's head and whispered in his ear.
"It's okay if you forget,… because I will always be here to remind you!" Steve's words, like Bucky's were loaded and spoke of all they had been through in the past few months and everything that laid ahead of their future. It was a promise that echoed their love and commitment of friendship from a life time ago, till the end of the line.
The End…. JK!... There are a few more chapters that will serve as a sort of epilogue. Those chapters will take place about a year or so later in this timeline. Hope you have enjoyed reading so far.