TW: Suicidal Thoughts, References to Depression, Mental Health Issues
Hi! As a warning, this fic was written before the finale was released! So not everything is entirely canon-compliant.
One day, I'll right something happy. Just not today. I really need to stop putting my comfort characters through Hell, but it's all I know.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate you.
Bucky stared up at the ceiling, his sweat-soaked limbs trembling as he tried to focus on anything but the memories.
It had been weeks since he'd last seen Sam. With Walker and Karli both off the grid, their partnership was temporarily dissolved. The new Captain America went back to help Sarah in Louisiana, and the former Winter Soldier returned to his shitty apartment in New York.
Almost like they'd never teamed up in the first place.
The first few days, Bucky didn't face any major setbacks. Working with Sam left him feeling strangely hopeful. When he got home, he even decided to start looking for a new therapist. The one he was forced to see made his life a living hell, but Bucky knew every doctor took a different approach. He just needed to find one that suited his needs.
For the first time in a while, Bucky could see some light in his future.
By the second week, his newfound steadiness had turned back into chaos. Following Sam's advice, Bucky talked to Mr. Nakajima and told him the truth about his son. He knew it would change things, but that fact didn't completely settle until it was over. The following Wednesday, Bucky foolishly showed up at their usual spot. Mr. Nakajima never did.
Building a relationship with him had been a stupid and selfish move. The moment he realized they were neighbors, Bucky should've come clean. Instead, he befriended him, as if that would make up for the loss of his child.
Shortly after their fallout, Bucky stopped answering Sam's texts. It wasn't that he didn't want to – he absolutely did – but he didn't know what to say. He spent hours staring at his screen, trying to come up with just one reasonable response. Eventually, he gave up.
From then on, things only got worse.
He still went to the appointment he made with the new therapist he found, but it was more damaging than all his sessions with Dr. Raynor combined. She was terribly impassive, but Dr. Carson was absolutely terrified of him. The entire time, he made sure to keep at least ten feet between them.
Bucky's heart erupted into flames, but his anger never spilled out. Nothing he said would change Dr. Carson's image of him. All he could see was the stoic assassin that killed without mercy or remorse, and Bucky couldn't even blame for it. He wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore, but they wore the same face. When people saw him, they were supposed to feel petrified. HYDRA made sure of that.
His nightmares never stopped, but seeing someone so afraid of him fucked with his head. Every time he drifted off, the ghosts of his past victims haunted him. He went from sleeping around six hours a night to barely three.
One night, he dreamt about dying after he fell off the freight train. It was disturbing enough to wake him, but not for the reason it should've been. If he'd died that night, it would've saved hundreds of people. Maybe even thousands. The idea made Bucky sick to his stomach.
He thought about allowing fate to catch up with him. It wouldn't fix the families he destroyed, but at least they'd get some justice.
Only, whenever he got close to the goal, something in his brain panicked and made him stop.
Maybe because dying meant avoiding the consequences. Maybe because Sam, who was still texting him despite being ignored, was out there worrying about him.
When his painful recollections and dangerously bleak thoughts began sticking with him throughout the day, he stopped leaving his apartment. If he needed something, he got it delivered. He didn't trust himself enough to be around others.
It wasn't healthy, but Bucky didn't know what else to do. He didn't have the energy to figure anything else out. Staying inside, where he couldn't hurt anyone but himself, seemed like the only feasible solution.
The default ringtone on his iPhone threw him back into reality. The last thing Bucky wanted to do was move, but he still found himself rolling onto his side anyway. He didn't plan on answering it, but he wanted to see who it was.
It was nearly one in the morning, and Sam was currently calling him. He usually kept to texts.
With furrowed eyebrows, Bucky hesitantly tucked his phone in-between his hands. Something had to be wrong if he was trying to get ahold of him so late.
Knowing that, he should've answered immediately. Sam was important to him. Once they stopped acting so stupid and stubborn around each other, they actually got pretty close. If he was going to speak to anyone right now, it would be Sam. He didn't trust anyone else that much.
After the fifth ring, Bucky forced himself to answer. He cleared his throat before bringing his phone to his ear.
"Sam? What's going on?" He kept his voice at a whisper, not wanting his previous distress to be obvious.
The voice on the other end was just as quiet, but doubtfully for the same reason. "Well, look who decided to finally answer their phone."
If he had the energy for it, Bucky would've scowled. "Yeah, yeah. Why are you calling so late?"
"Because you never told me what your apartment number is, and I'm not about to start knocking on random doors to find out."
Bucky froze. Why was Sam in New York? More specifically, why was he looking for his place? It was the middle of the night too. What could possibly be so urgent that it couldn't wait until the morning?
"You're in New York," Bucky stated, as if Sam hadn't already confirmed where he was.
Sam let out a half-annoyed groan. "Don't tell me you moved."
He sure wasn't talking like someone who was currently in a desperate and dire situation. Bucky brought his free hand to his forehead, blowing a near-silent sigh past his lips. "No, I didn't move. I'm in 5B."
"Oh, good!" Sam cheered, his sarcasm clear. "Then see you in a minute, Buck." Before Bucky would even try to reply, Sam hung up.
With another sigh, Bucky dropped his phone. His last shower was days ago, and Sam Wilson would be at his door in a matter of minutes.
Not wanting to look completely out of it, Bucky slowly got to his feet. He didn't have enough time to rinse off, but he could at least change.
After tracking down a set of clothes that weren't in desperate need of washing, he quickly switched outfits. Glancing in the mirror, he still looked like a completely mess, but Bucky would blame it on the time. Who showed up at someone's door after midnight without warning?
By the time Bucky was back in the main room, Sam was already knocking on his door. Once he was close enough, Bucky hesitantly opened it.
"Nice to see you're alive, partner." Sam offered a tight smile, easily breezing past Buck and making his way inside. Bucky didn't know whether to feel guilty or irritated.
"Shouldn't you be, oh, I don't know— Asleep in Louisiana?" Bucky countered, shutting the door and leaning back against it.
He did his best to ignore Sam as his eyes bounced around his apartment. Bucky managed to get himself somewhat together, but his place was a lost cause. Dirty clothes were scattered around the room, along with way too many takeout boxes. He couldn't remember the last time he did his laundry or took out the trash.
Bucky assumed Sam would say something about his current living situation, but he never did. He only turned back towards Bucky, wearing the same expression he had when he first walked in.
"I could ask you the same thing," Sam calmly shot back. "Minus Louisiana."
After a slow breath in and an unsteady breath out, Bucky squinted his eyes. "Maybe you woke me up. You called me, remember?"
A faint smile reached Sam's cheeks. It was a little too soft for Bucky's liking. If Sam was looking for a heart-to-heart, he wasn't going to find it. Bucky could barely keep up with their banter, so a conversation regarding feelings was out of the question.
"I think we both know I didn't."
There it was. Sam was absolutely looking to talk about the thing Bucky dreaded. A part of him knew eventually, someone would call him out for disappearing. He'd just hoped that by the time they did, he would have his shit more together.
Bucky gave him a look, suddenly totally okay with appearing pissed off. All Sam did was mimic his features.
"Want do you want, Sam? The sun set hours ago." His exhaustion dripped into his words.
Sam sighed, his own fatigue momentarily shining through. Bucky almost fell back, but it wasn't enough to level off his frustration.
"It was a last minute decision," Sam muttered. "Look, I'll cut to the chase. I came here because I'm worried about you, Buck."
Bucky couldn't help but emit a small laugh. "Well, you don't have to be. I'm doing just fine." Even to his own ears, it sounded like bullshit.
Sam shook his head, moving until the space between them was almost too limited. "I didn't come all this way to get lied to."
Buck stared right into Sam's eyes, annoyance seeping back into his bones. Why did Sam always have to be so damn stubborn? Why couldn't he let anything go?
"I didn't ask you to come here!" he shouted, both of his hands flying up. "You're lucky I even answered the door!"
Sam rolled his eyes. Bucky glared. He was hoping their needless bickering would convince Sam to leave, but nothing was ever that easy with him. If Bucky wanted him to leave, he would have to physically throw him out.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then, Sam sighed again. "Do you remember the last text you sent me?"
Even before HYDRA, Bucky never had the most reliable memory. After a good thirty seconds, he replied with a clipped "No."
Without a word, Sam took out his phone. Once he found what he was looking for, he showed Bucky his screen.
talked to yori. didnt go well. dont knw what to do nw
As he read the text, Bucky's ears rang. He definitely didn't remember writing it, but his brain blocked out most of that day. Telling Mr. Nakajima the truth was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done.
"I texted you as soon as I got it," Sam murmured. "And every day after, but you never answered." He was back to sounding and looking concerned. The energy in the room had changed so quickly.
For the first time since Sam arrived, Buck dropped his gaze and let his head fall. Yet again, he didn't know what to say to him.
A gentle hand reached Bucky's shoulder. He flinched, but didn't move away. When they were out chasing John and the Flag Smashers, he'd gotten used to Sam's small gestures. He even offered his own every now and again. After being apart for so long, his body forgot how to react.
"Sorry," Sam whispered, swiftly removing his hand. Immediately, Bucky missed the weight. "I thought it was obvious, but I care about you, Buck. If you're struggling, I want to know about it. I want to help. So will you please tell me what's going on?"
As Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, his hands formed tight fists. He was so tired of being the reason for other people's distress. Withholding everything seemed to be hurting Sam, but wouldn't the truth only burn deeper? How could Buck coming clean about how miserablehe was make Sam feel better?
After clearing his throat, Buck opened his eyes, bringing his gaze back to Sam. Sam was still watching him, somehow looking even more worried than before.
He didn't want to dive into his latest worst hits, but Sam wasn't giving him much of a choice. "The morning after I talked to Yori," Buck began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I stood on the roof for over an hour."
It didn't take Sam long to understand what he meant. He looked completely taken back, which Bucky found alarming. Despite the severity, he hadn't been expecting that kind of reaction.
"Were you going to…?" Sam quietly asked, not willing to finish the entire sentence.
"I don't know," Bucky breathed out. With the serum, he wasn't even sure if that kind of drop would do it. The freight train incident hadn't been enough.
Sam nodded, glancing away as he processed Bucky's answer. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned it. He could've at least tried skipping around it, but Sam made it clear he was looking for honesty.
"Was that the only time?" Sam suddenly questioned. He brought his attention back to Buck, a new emotion covering his face: fear. It made Buck's head spin. He really didn't think what he said would cause so much grief.
"No," he answered, much too casually. Sam brought a hand to his forehead, then walked towards Bucky's sad excuse for a couch. When he was close enough, he sat down and patted the spot next to him.
Hesitantly, Bucky made his way over. Once he was off his feet, Sam turned towards him and held his hand out. It took Bucky a moment to understand what he was asking for. Ignoring the way his fingers shook, he gently rested his hand in Sam's.
"Have you told anyone else about this?" Sam asked. He used his thumb to slowly rub Bucky's knuckles.
The small form of comfort was too much and not enough all at once.
Bucky shook his head, yet again letting his head fall. Other than Sam, he didn't really have anyone else to talk to. The Avengers weren't a thing anymore, and Steve… He was long gone.
"What about that new therapist you found? What happened with him?" The fact that Sam remembered made Bucky's stomach twist. In what world did he deserve a friend like him? He didn't even have the decency to answer his phone.
"It didn't work out," Bucky muttered. "He was terrified of me. Can't say I blame him."
It was Sam's turn to shake his head. "You and the Winter Soldier are two different people." His voice didn't hold any uncertainty.
Bucky almost laughed. It sounded so simple, but it was anything but. "You're the only one who sees it that way."
The trigger words HYDRA instilled in him didn't work anymore, but a small piece of the Winter Soldier would always stay with him. It was impossible to erase everything. No matter which doctors he saw, he would always be a little unclean.
"I shouldn't be," Sam insisted. Bucky's lips curved into a sad smile, and Sam squeezed his hand. "The person I'm looking at right now is nothing like the one I met all those years ago."
Not even Bucky was able to see himself separately from the Winter Soldier. He couldn't understand how Sam did it so easily.
The volume of Sam's voice dropped. "Was there a reason you didn't call? Did I say something that made you feel like you couldn't?"
Sam's question threw him off. "What?" Buck didn't know where their conversation was heading, but he didn't expect Sam to start blaming himself. With confusion etched into his features, Bucky swiftly dismissed him. "No, Sam. You didn't do anything wrong."
Even in the beginning, when all they did was argue, Sam never stepped over the line. He didn't even get close to it. Their insults occasionally danced near their traumas, but they never collided. Both of them knew better.
Sam didn't look entirely convinced. Bucky knew his explanation was poor at best, but it was better than seeing Sam wear undeserved guilt.
"I, uh—" Buck started. "I didn't know what to say. Everything I came up with was either too much or too little. I didn't want to take too much of your time, but I didn't want to write you off either."
It sounded even worse than Bucky imagined. He frowned to himself, disappointed by his own actions.
The air fell quiet again. Bucky was waiting for Sam to go off. He wasn't sure what Sam was waiting for.
Bucky hadn't realized they were still holding hands until Sam squeezed his again. The gesture was way too kind for someone who'd fucked up so miserably.
"Hey, look at me?" Sam asked.
Bucky's gaze was still glued to the floor. He didn't really want to look at Sam. He was frustrated, disheartened, and completely drained, and he didn't want those feelings to be any more obvious.
Yet, Bucky still found himself glancing up anyway. After ignoring Sam for so long, the least he could do was listen. After all, he'd travelled across states just to talk to him.
Sam lifted their connected hands up a little, looking straight into Bucky's eyes as he talked. "Don't even think about how I'll react. Just say what feels right." Sam smiled at him, but it quickly faltered. "And if you ever think about… leaving again, you give me a call. I don't care what time it is. I don't care if all you end up doing is yelling at me. Your life matters, and I would be devastated if something happened to you."
Prolonged eye contact was normally one of Buck's specialties, but Sam was making it difficult. He barely managed to keep it as Sam went on. Bucky couldn't understand how he saw so much good in him.
After blinking the moisture out of his eyes, Bucky slowly nodded his head. "I'm sorry." He couldn't have been more genuine. He never meant to move any of his pain to Sam.
Lifting his other hand, Sam placed it over their connected ones. "Don't be. Just— Don't shut me out. Especially if things get that bad."
"Okay," Buck quietly agreed. Maybe it would be a good thing for both of them.
Sam offered a real smile, then let go of Bucky's hand. Bucky wasn't sure if he'd stay for the night or immediately head back home, but he was just thankful for the time he got. After being alone for so many weeks, it was nice to have someone else in his apartment.
It was also nice to let someone in for a change. Buck wasn't sure if he was ready to make that a usual occurrence, but for tonight, it made him feel a little lighter.
"I should probably head over to my hotel," Sam mentioned. "I didn't rent a car, so I'll probably have to call an Uber…"
Except, Sam wasn't moving to take his phone out. He was just watching Bucky with a bright grin gracing his cheeks.
Oh. He didn't plan on leaving. The amount of relief Bucky felt was almost embarrassing.
"Just stay here," Bucky grumbled. He wasn't about to openly admit how happy he was about it. "You can take the couch."
They watched each other for another second before they both started laughing. Buck's chest burned, but in a good way. Not so long ago, he'd pulled the same stunt at Sam's place.
Once they managed to get themselves together, Sam brought his hand to Bucky's upper arm. "Sounds good to me."
In the future, I may either add a chapter to this or write a sequel! Possibly the morning after, maybe something else entirely. I haven't decided anything yet. Thanks again for reading!