I'm Not Okay, an avengers fanfic

A/N: This has been bugging me for the last three days, ever since watching the third Falcon and the Winter Soldier episode on Friday night. A line from episode 2 ("The Star-Spangled Man") floated into my head, and then I started thinking about everything that got discussed in between the banter and terrible jokes in "Power Broker" and this happened. The title and song I used? Inspired from listening to Citizen Soldier on repeat. So...enjoy!

Disclaimer: *sigh* Sadly, I don't own Marvel, Disney does. Trust me, you'd know if I owned Marvel.

I'm Not Okay

"Tonight the monsters in my head
Are screaming so damn loud...
But I built walls so high
So they never even make a sound...
It's a mask, it's a lie
It's the only home I've ever known...
'Cause being who I really am
Has only left me more alone..."

At least he wasn't screaming.

He wasn't sure he'd be entirely cool with waking up screaming while trapped on a plane with both Sam and Zemo. Sam would probably just laugh. Zemo...Bucky didn't trust him for shit. He didn't know what the Sokovian would do.

The fact that he wasn't screaming didn't mean everything was okay, however. Bucky's nightmare this time was one he'd been having too often lately - the day he'd killed Yori's son. Rationally, he knew it hadn't been him, that he'd been the Winter Soldier under Hydra's control...but that didn't stop him from feeling responsible. Just like he did with all of them. Tony's parents. Yori's son. Everyone he'd ever killed as the Winter Soldier, they all felt like he was responsible, like he was the cause of all that pain.

In a way, he was.

Bucky sat up, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep again for a few hours at least. Sam was still asleep, stretched out on the seats opposite him. Zemo was up front; whether he was asleep or not, Bucky had no idea. He preferred to keep it that way.

Bucky studied Sam and wondered again why he'd given up the shield. Steve had chosen him for a reason; why couldn't Sam see that? Like he'd said earlier, that shield meant a lot of things to a lot of people. In the hands of John Walker, it wasn't the same symbol. And yet Sam still refused to see it. What he'd said about destroying the shield...the only thing that had managed to damage it in almost a century had been Thanos' broadsword, and even then it had been repaired. Bucky wasn't entirely sure destroying it was possible. At the same time, the very fact that Sam had suggested it at all was like a blow to the chest. He knew how important that thing was. They both did. How could destroying it even be a concept?

Bucky sighed and tore his gaze away from Sam. He needed a drink, something to clear his head. The problem was, getting one meant peering up front to ask Zemo's butler or whoever the old man was where to find one, and chancing the possibility of Zemo being awake, in which case he'd more than likely attempt to start a conversation, probably full of snide comments and endless sarcasm.

Oh, fuck it all.

Bucky got up, trying not to make a lot of noise and wake Sam up, because then there'd definitely be a conversation, one Bucky wasn't sure he was ready for. He made his way to the cockpit, poking his head in somewhat hesitantly.

To his relief, Zemo was asleep, the headrest acting as a pillow. Someone, probably the old man, had set Zemo's coat over him like a blanket. It was actually a somewhat touching scene.

The old man noticed him while Bucky was still staring at Zemo. "Can I help you, sir?" he asked in his raspy, quiet voice.

Bucky nodded. "I just need a drink. A glass of water's fine."

The old man - butler, Bucky decided, based on the way he acted - nodded. "Wait here, sir, I'll bring it for you." He brushed past Bucky on his way out of the cockpit to what Bucky assumed was the kitchen area, leaving a very uncomfortable Bucky standing there with a sleeping Zemo and a plane on autopilot.

Bucky decided to study Zemo again, since staring at the mess of controls wasn't appealing and the only thing visible outside the window was clouds. Looking at Zemo wasn't much better, but sadly watching him sleep was the best view at the moment.

It wasn't all bad, Bucky thought as he watched the sleeping Sokovian breathe. Zemo looked almost peaceful as he slept, something Bucky wasn't used to by any means. It was odd, all this - finding out Zemo was technically royalty, working with him in the first place, discovering that although he was cruel and seemed to enjoy causing Bucky and Sam extreme discomfort, he was still just a human being. It was easy to forget sometimes, Bucky thought. For all of them.

The butler came back with the promised glass of water and handed it to him.

"Thank you," Bucky muttered, and moved to leave the cockpit. The butler's voice stopped him.

"He's not a bad man."

Bucky turned around. "Who? Zemo?"

The butler nodded. "I've known him his whole life. He's made some terrible decisions, but in the end, he's not a bad man."

Bucky offered a fake half-smile that disappeared as quickly as it showed up. "I'll take your word for it."

He left.

"I am not okay...!
And I need you to see it
I have so much to say...!
And no one to hear it
The reason I keep quiet
With so much at stake
I always feel like a burden,
Let it silence me
You'll never understand
Why it's so hard to say...
I'm not okay..."

He didn't sit down immediately. He was still too restless. He leaned against the wall to drink his water, the butler's words still fresh in his mind. He's made some terrible decisions, but in the end, he's not a bad man. Was that what Steve had believed about him? Was that what Steve had seen when he looked straight into Bucky's soul, past the shattered steely blue eyes to the broken man beneath? Was that what Steve had known hid beneath the tortured, haunted veneer?

Bucky had never missed Steve so much as he did now.

"Bucky?"

Damnit. Sam was awake.

Bucky looked over at him. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I woke up on my own," Sam replied, sitting up. "So aside from standing there with a glass of water doing the staring thing again, what are you doing?"

Bucky sighed. "Thinking. Zemo's butler said something interesting. Mostly...missing Steve."

Sam nodded. "I know that feeling. I miss him every day."

"So do I," Bucky admitted. "We always said we'd be with each other 'til the end of the line. But it's not the end of the line, not for me. Now he's gone and I just...I'm kinda lost."

"I know," Sam agreed. "I am too. After he gave me the shield, I just went home. I threw myself back into trying to keep my family's business afloat, literally, while my sister balanced being a single mom with work and the reappearance of everyone who got dusted. Yet every night I'd find myself looking at the thing and wondering if Steve should've chosen differently."

Bucky sighed and semi-reluctantly came back over to reclaim his spot opposite Sam. He did not want to be having this conversation at one a.m., but there were some things that had to be said.

"Why did you give up the shield, Sam?" Bucky asked again.

"I wish I had a scar, had a bruise
On the surface, any kind of proof
That everything I feel
Is more than just some sad excuse
My life's invisible abuse
I'm either judged or have to hide...
The only symptom you can see
Is I don't wanna be alive!"

Sam immediately averted his eyes. "Bucky, can we not do this now?"

"No!" Bucky said, with a force that shocked even him. "No, we have to do this now, because now we don't have Zemo awake and bothering us or John Walker harping on us to trust the process and swallow whatever bullshit doctrine he tries to feed us."

"Bucky -" Sam tried, but Bucky was just getting started.

"You remember what I said during my final therapy session?" Bucky said. "That maybe Steve was wrong about you, and if he was wrong about you then maybe he was wrong about me? You remember that conversation?"

Sam nodded, a brief expression of guilt flashing across his face. Bucky continued.

"You wanna know why that's so important? Why I need him to not have been wrong about me?" Sam tried to answer, but Bucky steamrolled over him. "Because he believed I'm a good man. He believed that what I did as the Winter Soldier didn't reflect on who I am, that deep inside I'm still a good man. But what if he was wrong? What if I'm not who he thought I was, who he tried to get me to believe I was? What if Bucky really did die the day I fell off that train, and all that remains is the Winter Soldier?

"I trusted Steve's judgement. So when he gave you the shield, I knew it was for a reason. I knew he saw something in you that, in his eyes, made you worthy of wielding that shield and carrying that legacy. I thought that after we'd all had a little time to re-adjust to this new post-Blip reality, you'd be ready to officially take up the mantle like Steve believed you would. And then you gave up the shield. You put it in a fucking museum and the government just took it right back out and gave it to that impostor. The way I see it, you betrayed Steve when you abandoned the legacy he gave you. You proved him wrong.

"Which brings me back to if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me. The minute that shield went in its glass case, I started to doubt everything that Steve had insisted about me. I started wondering if he'd been wrong to give you the shield, since you gave it up so easily. If by extension he'd been wrong about me.

"You know how hard it's been, trying to re-adjust to having my own mind back under my control, yet still remembering every single murder the Winter Soldier ever committed? I contemplated suicide multiple times. I'm not even sure if it would have worked. Those therapy sessions Walker pulled me out of? Much as I dreaded them, they were actually helping. Eventually I moved past the suicidal thoughts and started trying to make amends, hence the book. And then the shield, and immediately all the doubts that I'd initially had came rushing back like a tidal wave.

"So there. That's why I need Steve to have not been wrong about you. That's why I'm so pissed off that you gave up his shield." Bucky downed the rest of the wter, trying to calm himself down. "So your turn, Sam. Why did you give up the shield?"

Sam sighed. "I guess you do deserve an answer."

Bucky gave him an expectant look. Sam took a deep breath.

Here we go.

"It's not that Steve was wrong about me," Sam said. "And he definitely wasn't wrong about you. It's more...it's a racial thing, more than anything. Think about it from my persective for a minute, Bucky - I'm a black man living in a country that seems determined to oppress black people. We've been enslved, segregated, imprisoned for no reason, killed for no reason...hell, Isaiah was experimented on. Can you see why I'm a little hesitant to take on the mantle of a man sworn to defend a country that doesn't defend people like me?

"And that's not all it is. It just...it doesn't feel like it belongs to me. It belongs to Steve. And part of me just doesn't want to accept that he'd gone, y'know? Taking the shield, putting on the red, white, and blue uniform...it doesn't feel right, and I don't really think I'm ready in any case. He sprung that on me almost immeidately after Tony died. I'm still not sure I've really accepted everything that went down at the Compound six months ago." He sighed. "That shield belongs to Steve, not me. I don't know what he saw in me that made him believe I'd be a good Captain America. But...I'm nowhere near ready."

Bucky studied him. He hadn't considered the racial part of it. And he could actually sympathize with his feelings. It was a lot to be handed, and so soon after Tony's funeral too, while they were all still in emotional turmoil. He supposed it made logical sense.

That didn't stop his own feelings, however.

"I'll never have the words, I
Can't explain this hell...!
But what if it kills me if I
Keep it to myself...?!
To myself...!"

"I didn't know about the suicide attempts," Sam said into the silence that had fallen in between them.

"I know you didn't," Bucky replied. "Which is probably my fault. I didn't want your company. I didn't want anyone's company." That was only mostly true. At first, he hadn't wanted anyone's company. But as time went on, Bucky had found himself thinking about Sam - wondering what he was doing, how he was adjusting. Contemplating picking up his phone and texting him, just to say hello. He never had, despite his therapist's encourgement.

He wondered what it had meant.

"You know Steve wasn't wrong about you, right?" Sam asked.

"It doesn't feel that way," Bucky admitted. "Especially since Zemo forced me to playact the Winter Soldier back in Madripoor. I'm terrified of how easily I slipped back into the form he used, the way he fought. The difference was barely noticeable - I had to make it look convincing, but I didn't want to kill anyone. I'm scared of how much restraint that took. But what terrifies me most...Sam, I enjoyed it. Some twisted part of me enjoyed that sick roleplay of Zemo's. That's the part that scares me."

Sam's eyes betrayed his worry. "Bucky -"

"What if Zemo's right? He all but implied earlier that the Winter Soldier isn't dead, and even though he can't control me...part of me wanted to react to the trigger words," Bucky went on, finding to his surprise that now that he was talking he couldn't stop. "So what if he's right? What if the Winter Soldier really isn't dead? What if he's who I'm supposed to be?"

"Bucky!" Sam exclaimed, effectively shutting him up. He lowered his voice as he continued. "You have got to stop thinking that way. You're not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore. You're a good man, Bucky, buried beneath all that self-doubt." At Bucky's disbelieving look, Sam sighed and went on. "Look, I see why my giving up the shield unleashed all that self-hatred and self-doubt - I get it, it was hard on you, and especially now that they've given it to John fucking Walker - and I hope you understand my side of things. But Steve wasn't wrong about you. Somewhere beneath the facades you put on, locked behind the walls you build to keep yourself safe, you're really a good man. You're trying to atone, to forgive yourself for everything he did. That's progress. And I saw your reaction when Zemo was commenting on that book. You really do care about at least one of those names, which is something the Winter Soldier never could. He's still a part of you, Buck, a manifestation of your darker side, but he's not who you are. Your past doesn't define you. Believe me, I know."

Bucky looked away, processing what Sam had said. He was right. Bucky half-hated to admit it, but he was right.

"Buck," Sam said, and Bucky looked back at him semi-reluctantly.

Sam's expression was the most open Bucky had ever seen it. "Steve wasn't wrong about you," he repeated. "And maybe he wasn't wrong about me either."

For the first time tonight - actually, probably for the first time since he'd come back six months ago - Bucky smiled. A real one, not the fake one he'd given his therapist. It was small, but Sam's statement rekindled a small flame of hope that they could still make the shield situation right.

Sam tentatively reached out and placed his hand on Bucky's flesh-and-blood arm. "You know if you ever need to talk again, I'm right here, right? I'm not going anywhere."

Bucky nodded. "I know."

"I
Am
Not
Okay...!
And I need you to see it
I have so much to say...!
And no one to hear it
I'm not okay
I'm not okay
I'm never safe
It's not a phase
If I finally break
Would you still stay...?"

Bucky met Sam's eyes, and something clicked into place. Some emotion that Bucky had been denying finally made itself known.

"What if I need something else?" Bucky asked, abruptly nervous. This was new territory for him.

Sam held his gaze. "Then I'll do my best to give you that too."

Bucky could never quite remember how it had happened, but at the time it seemed as if he blinked and missed something, because next second he was kissing Sam. He hadn't registered moving, hadn't known he was going to until he was, but it didn't matter because Sam was kissing him back.

Bucky let the world fall away. He let himself forget that they were still stuck on a plane with Zemo, heading to gods-knew-where on what was likely a suicide mission to stop the Flagsmashers while stimultaneously trying to deal with John Walker's failing attempt at being Captain America. He let himself forget his doubts, his demons, everything that had been plaguing him for the past six months. Everything he'd felt in the last forty-eight hours just vanished, his anger turning to passion as he lost himself in the kiss, in a warmth he'd thought he'd never feel, in Sam.

Eventually Bucky remembered that he did need to breathe and pulled back. Sam grinned at him.

"Maybe now's not the best time," he said.

Bucky shrugged. "Zemo's asleep. I think we're good."

"Still, probably not really the time or place for this," Sam pointed out.

"As far as the place, you're probably right, there's no privacy whatsoever on this plane," Bucky conceded. "The time, however..."

"I'm not gonna win this, am I?" Sam sighed.

Bucky grinned. "Probably not."

"Fair enough," Sam laughed.

"For the record," Bucky told him, "I didn't know I was going to do that."

"I'm glad you did," Sam replied. "I wasn't sure you would."

"Neither was I," Bucky admitted. "I wasn't planning on any of this happening tonight."

"And yet here we are," said Sam with a smile. He took Bucky's human hand in his. "Did you ever expect this?"

"Not at all," Bucky said honestly. "But it's not a bad thing."

"I should hope not!" Sam teased.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I take it back."

"Nope, no takebacks," Sam joked. "You're stuck with me."

"Am I?" Bucky asked, half-serious.

Sam kissed him once, lightly. "Yes," he said. "Because I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

The old butler's words came back to him as Bucky looked at Sam with love undisguised in his eyes. He's made some terrible decisions, but in the end, he's not a bad man.

Maybe the same was true for Bucky. He squeezed Sam's hand once, letting Sam know without speaking how much he cared.

It was time to start over. And for the first time, Bucky was okay with that.

"Tonight the monsters in my head
Are screaming so damn loud..."

That was only four days in the making, which seems like too long for a oneshot but. Who cares. I hope you liked it even though it was kinda heavy, but this conversation needs to (and probably will, in some form or another) happen in the show, so...voila. I got a head start. Please leave a review!