Steve tells him he doesn't have to decide right away. "Just think about it," he says. "There's a lot you can do now. You can do anything. You don't have to fight if you don't want to."
What does he want to do?
That is a question he hasn't had to deal with a lot. Oh, he's learned how to figure out basic wants, like what he wants to eat, and what he wants to wear, but he's only now, after seventy-years, beginning to take charge over his life. Up until now, a lot of what he'd 'wanted' had been basic things that had needed to be done, removing the trigger words, choosing a new arm design… but now, he can actually choose what he wants to do with his life.
Does he want to go on Avengers missions?
As the Asset he had, but that had been because he had thought that that was the only way he could be useful, and because he had been terrified of being useless and failing his handler. But he doesn't have to worry about that now. Instead he has to actually figure out what he wants to do.
Besides the time he had chosen to follow Steve, most of his military career hadn't been his choice, and even that hadn't been as bad as what Hydra had done to him. He hadn't wanted to fight for most of his life, but he'd ended up spending a whole lifetime doing it anyways, and now he isn't exactly sure what else he can do.
He is good at fighting, he knows that. And… and part of him can't help feeling that hunting Hydra would be cathartic, and important… but… he's not sure how much he actually wants to fight beyond that.
But what else can he do?
"There are lots of options," Steve tells him a few days later, Bucky sitting at his counter while Steve organises lunch for both of them. Steve lets out a quiet laugh and shakes his head self-deprecatingly. "I get it, a little bit," he says, glancing over his shoulder to look at him. "When I woke up here, it kind of felt like all my other skills were useless too. And the world seemed to kind of need Captain America so…" He shrugs and turns back to his frying pan, the smell of seasoned chicken filling the room.
"It's different for you though," Steve continues, stirring the pan with his spatula. "You have time to learn something new if you wanted. There's classes and online courses. You can find something else to do if you don't want to fight."
Bucky narrows his eyes a little and wonders if he's reading too much into Steve's words. He can remember how restless Steve had gotten when he'd been benched, so he assumes he wants to go on missions… but he wonders if there is more to it than that. The way he'd been talking, it's like all those options are open only for Bucky, and not himself, even though they are kind of in the same boat.
"JARVIS can probably help you if you can't think of anything," Steve says, leaning forward to turn off the stove and moving on before Bucky can ask him about his suspicions. "You can probably try a few things out before you decide," Steve continues reassuringly. "And your decision doesn't have to be set in stone, you know."
He doesn't ask for JARVIS' help just yet, but he does try to decide whether or not he actually wants to fight at all. He spends a lot of time thinking over his past-self's decision to follow Steve all those years ago. Part of the reason, he thinks, behind that decision, had been that he hadn't wanted to leave Steve. He can't imagine having gone home and leaving him to fight, but now…
Steve has a team to fight with him, just like he had before… but he has to admit that this team is better equipped. They are all enhanced in some way so he knows he can trust them to protect Steve, and, Steve has already proven that he can fight with this team and be safe without Bucky spotting him.
Joining the Avengers would probably be helpful, but if he doesn't… it's not like he's leaving a gap. There won't be a hole left behind without him. And, he thinks, with modern technology, it will be easier for me to join if I'm ever needed. If he keeps out of the fight this time, he won't be an ocean away and grasping at scraps of news on Steve's wellbeing.
All of that comes to the conclusion that he doesn't have to join just because of Steve. Steve probably doesn't want him to join because of him – he'd felt guilty over Bucky's choice last time anyways – if Bucky joins, Steve will want it to be 100% because he wants to.
So he just needs to figure that out.
But… he's not sure. A part of him wants to go after Hydra, to try to right some of the wrongs he'd been forced to commit… but a part of him is tired of fighting. He'd been forced into it in the first place, and then Hydra had forced him even further than that. Hydra had taken him and twisted him into a killing machine, and he still doesn't know the full extent of what he'd done for them.
Isn't seventy-years of fighting enough?
He goes to bed thinking about it, which had probably been a mistake.
He eases the door open quietly, slipping into the room as silent as a shadow. His knife is already open in his hand, and he keeps it down by his leg as he darts his eyes around the room. The curtains are drawn, leaving the room and its only other occupant in darkness.
He leaves the door half-open and takes a step further into the room. The Target is asleep in his bed, his quiet breaths filling the room as the Soldier creeps closer. He needs to be quick and silent so that the Target doesn't wake up. As long as he's fast, the Target won't even have to feel anything, and he'll have completed his mission perfectly–
"Dad?"
His heart stutters and he freezes at the sound, his eyes widening and his breath catching behind his mask. A girl—? There isn't supposed to be anyone else in the house— his handlers had said there wasn't anybody—
He tries to pull away, tries to hide, but the girl is pushing the door open, her nightgown brushing her feet as she steps into the room, her eyes immediately locking on to him. Their gazes meet for half-a-second – both wide-eyed and fearful – and he realises with horror that he's been here before— he knows what is going to happen— he's already done this—
"H-hello?" she calls, drawing into herself fearfully. He swallows, his head turning almost in slow motion to look towards the Target, the Target who is moving in the bed and— wait no— he doesn't want to do this, he doesn't want—
He wakes up to a tangle of blankets and he tugs them off his legs, his breath coming out in sharp gasps as he works on getting himself out of bed. He stumbles, tripping over the trailing edge of his blankets a few times before finally managing to drag himself out to the kitchen, his breath still rather shaky and laboured.
His hands are shaking too much to make tea, and he slumps on one of his island stools, burying his head in his arms as he tries to calm down. His chest hurts as he breathes, and it takes a few minutes before he's even able to try to think about the protocols that Sam's app had given him for nightmares. His mind spins and his breath wheezes, but eventually he manages to lift his head and pull up a few of the directions.
On waking up, turn the light on, take a few deep breaths, it had said. Notice the sights, sounds and smells around you.
He sucks in an even breath and pushes himself up from the stool before shakily making his way over to the light switch. He squints as the light flicks on before taking a page from Steve's book and mentally cataloguing the colours in the room.
Grey countertops, he'd eaten supper there a few hours ago. He'd made— he'd made spaghetti. With sauce from a jar though, not homemade.
Blue washcloth, he'd washed dishes afterwards.
Green dish soap, it smells like lemons for some reason though.
Yellow dishtowel, Steve hadn't eaten with him, so he'd dried everything himself too.
Brown cabinets, all his dishes are in there, but he also has a spice cupboard. JARVIS had gotten him a basic spice collection and he'd been very slowly making his way through the flavours. He can still remember the time he'd been feeding Steve and had used too much chili pepper…
He breathes in and finds it a little easier now. He lets out a breath and rubs a hand over his eyes, holding his breath for a second, before breathing in again. His hands are shaking less now, so he makes his way over to his tea cupboard and starts going through the motions of making a cup of tea.
The tea helps, but he can't avoid thinking about the dream. It's the second time he's had that particular one, he can remember writing it down before. That alone convinces him even further that the scene had been one of his past missions.
He shudders as he thinks about it, and for a second some of his tea threatens to come back up again. He knows he's done terrible things for Hydra, but something about that particular mission seems to get under his skin worse than others. He knows it's because of the girl. Not only had she been a child, but she hadn't even been a target.
Hydra hadn't ordered him to kill her, not directly at least. They may have ordered him to keep from being seen, and to tie up any loose ends on missions… and part of him is aware that that essentially amounts to the same thing in the end… but he hadn't actually been ordered to kill her. She hadn't been a target. A secondary casualty.
He can remember once, back when he had been the Asset, and he had been trying to convince Steve of the dangers of the other Winter Soldiers, trying to show how bad they were. They will not avoid secondary casualties he'd said. Does that mean that as the Asset he had tried to avoid secondary casualties?
He has to admit, that the idea is somewhat comforting, the idea that he had refused to kill anyone that he hadn't been ordered to, the idea that that had been so important to him that he had been appalled when the other Winter Soldiers hadn't done the same…
But he had still killed that girl, hadn't he?
He knows why. He knows why he did it. He knows that Hydra's directives had hemmed him in. The girl had been dead the moment she had seen him… But why had she been there? In both dreams he had been convinced that the house should have been empty, that is what his handlers had told him.
If he had known that she was there, would he have been more careful? Would he have been able to avoid the girl and avoid a secondary casualty?
He doesn't know, because he doesn't know why his intel had been wrong. And, either way, the girl and her father are still dead – by his hand – and the girl had died afraid.
In the end, it takes him a while to fall back asleep again. He knows Sam's app had said to avoid sleep deprivation, but he can't seem to move from the counter, his tea growing cold in his hand as he thinks over the girl's face, her eyes wide and her mouth half-open, seconds away from a scream that he knows she had never made.
oOo
He's tired the next day, and a headache sits behind his eyes thanks to the weight of his metal arm, the medication he needs all the way in the kitchen. He doesn't go get it though.
He is groggy and grumpy when his alarm sounds, and he doesn't get up for it, instead turning it off and rolling over. He doesn't exactly want to stay in bed, but he doesn't want to get up either, so he lays for a while in a sort of half-doze that isn't exactly restful but is better than being conscious.
His stomach seems to be a bundle of nerves while he lays, unplaced anxiety twisting around in his gut and preventing him from truly resting. After a while he lets out a frustrated huff of air and roles over, trying to find a more comfortable position and swallowing down against anxious nausea.
Things don't get better though. His blankets are too hot, and his pillow is too soft and the pain in his shoulder gets more pronounced as time goes on, which only serves to darken his mood further. He doesn't want to get up though. He doesn't want to have to do things today.
If he gets up, then he has to figure out breakfast, and then he has to figure out things to do besides stare at the wall all day because he isn't the Asset anymore and he has to do things like make decisions and figure out whether or not he wants to go on Avengers missions.
He scowls as he thinks about it, his mind flashing back to the dream he had had. How can he decide whether or not he wants to fight when he doesn't even know all the things he's done with Hydra? He'd been used as a weapon for years; he'd killed kids and he doesn't even know why. He doesn't even know what the mission was for.
Does he even deserve to be on the Avengers' team? If they knew what he did, would they want him? He ignores the part of him that tries to claim that Tony had made weapons and Natasha had worked for the Red Room, and the Avengers still want them on their team. That doesn't change the fact that what he'd done is still bad.
If they knew they— His eyes widen, and his breath catches for a second as a realisation hits him. Steve already knows about this mission. He and Tony both know because Hydra had given Steve a file on his past missions. He'd forgotten about that. So Steve already knows about it, and he'd offered him a place on the team anyway—
He wonders if the file explains what the mission was for. It wouldn't really make it better, it wouldn't make it okay, but he could at least know why. (And he could know how many missions he went on, instead of constantly wondering, worrying about the next time he will remember one.)
He doesn't know where the file is of course, and—
His train of thought gets cut off as a knocking sounds at his front door. He blinks, and for a second he completely forgets how to respond, it's rare for him to have people knock on his door–
"Bucky?" A voice calls from outside, and he realises that it's Steve. "Are you alright?"
He swallows (and realises for the first time how dry his mouth is, because he hasn't drunk anything yet today), and he suddenly feels embarrassed at his situation. He doesn't know what time it is, but he's been laying in bed for way too long, moping over a dream that he'd had. His cheeks heat and he buries his head under his pillow, as if that will make Steve and everything else go away.
It doesn't, of course, and Steve knocks again.
"Bucky?" he calls again, and Bucky doesn't have the energy to respond, either with the truth or with a lie, so he stays quiet. There is silence for a moment, and he wonders if maybe Steve has left, but the next second he hears his front door open and Steve's voice a little clearer.
"Bucky?" he says again. "Are you alright? JARVIS says you're still here, and Clint said you didn't show up for archery."
Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and presses his head further into the pillow. He'd forgotten about his session with Clint today, and JARVIS hadn't reminded him (probably because he's curled up in a miserable ball on his bed). Even if he had though, he doubts he would have gone. The thought of trying to interact with people today feels like too much work.
Steve must be concerned by his lack of response because he can hear him coming further into the apartment. "Buck?" He's in the living room now, and Bucky knows that if he wants him to go away then he should get up and try to convince him that he's fine, but he doesn't want to do that either, so he just buries himself further in his blanket and tries to ignore his situation.
He can't even be mad when Steve cautiously pushes open the door to his room. "Bucky?" he says quietly. "Can I come in? I just want to check on you."
Bucky gives a noncommittal mumble, which Steve must interpret as 'not a no', because he comes further into the room, his steps soft on the floor as he makes his way closer to the bed. "How are you doing?" he asks, and when Bucky turns to look, he finds Steve crouched next to the head of his bed, his hand resting gently on his mattress.
"I donno," he mumbles at him, not wanting to admit everything he's feeling right now. "Tired. Arm hurts."
Steve nods and flicks his eyes over him. "Have you taken your pills yet? Are they working?"
Bucky shakes his head and presses his face into his pillow. "Haven't," he gets out. "Tired."
Steve shifts next to him and Bucky doesn't look up. "Okay," he says after a moment. "That's okay." He shifts and rubs his hand over the mattress, breathing in. "Can you get up for just a minute, Buck? It's okay if you don't want to, but if you come with me to the kitchen, then we can get your pill. I'm sure that will help you feel better." His eyes flick over him. "Have you eaten yet?"
Bucky shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut against his pillow. He doesn't really want to get up, but maybe he can do it with Steve here. It's easier with Steve here, because Steve can do all the thinking and all he has to do is get up.
He sighs and lets out a low groan before finally beginning to laboriously push himself into a sitting position. He feels strangely dizzy once he's up and his head swims slightly as he sits at the edge of his bed. In front of him, Steve offers him a quick, soft smile, before sitting back on his knees and standing up.
"You ready?" he asks, and Bucky sucks in a breath, gritting his teeth before finally pushing himself off the bed. His arm gives a low hum of pain, and his bladder takes the opportunity to remind him that he has yet to go to the bathroom today. He rubs his eyes as he follows Steve out of the room and squints at the sun coming in through his living room window.
"I'll get something started for you to eat," Steve tells him as he heads towards the kitchen. "You can sit at the counter if you want."
Bucky shakes his head. "Gotta go to the bathroom," he mumbles, keeping his head ducked as he makes his way across the room. He still feels tired as he uses the facilities and he catches sight of his face in the mirror as he washes his hands. He looks pale and drained, and his hair needs to be brushed. He doesn't want to deal with that though, so he settles for running his hands through his hair a few times and washing his face in an effort to feel more alive.
By the time he comes out of the bathroom, Steve has some instant oatmeal on the stove, and there is a glass of water and his pain medication ready for him on the island counter. He walks over and slumps down on his stool, taking the pill and washing it down with the water. He hadn't been intending to drink the whole thing at once, but his body kind of takes over for a moment in an attempt to rehydrate, and he finds himself draining the glass.
Steve turns around with a bowl of oatmeal for him and Bucky stares, the scene suddenly all too familiar. How many times has he been here? Him, as the Asset, sitting while Steve takes care of him. Shame rushes through him and he scowls, his fists clenching. He shouldn't need to be taken care of anymore. He's supposed to be able to take care of himself now, he's supposed to be able to do this, because–
"You're not my handler."
The words come out as a growl – which surprises even him a little bit – and Steve stills for a moment, his eyes flicking over him. Bucky lets out a breath and glances away in embarrassment, not exactly sure if he's mad at Steve or himself right now.
In front of him, Steve eases forward and sets down the bowl with a quiet click. "I'm not," he says softly, reaching over to grasp at Bucky's curled hand. Bucky looks up instinctively at that, and when he does, Steve's gaze is warm and earnest. "But I am a friend," he says. "And friends help each other on bad days."
Bucky's eyes drop and he nods mutely, his throat suddenly too swollen to respond properly. His eyes are wet, and he blinks it away carefully before breathing in, looking over as Steve settles back and pushes his bowl closer to him.
Bucky hadn't really felt hungry until now, but now that the food is in front of him, his body takes the chance to remind him that he has an enhanced metabolism, and that not eating probably isn't helping anything.
He eats, and Steve gets him more once he's finished his first serving, before settling down across from him and resting his hand on his chin, watching him. "Did you want to talk about it?" he asks quietly.
Bucky pauses and stares down into his bowl, stirring the oatmeal around for a few minutes as he thinks. He doesn't really want to talk to Steve about his dream, but that doesn't mean that it hadn't happened, and that the things in the dream hadn't happened either. Remembering and dealing with his Hydra missions is hard for him, and he can remember now that he'd fallen into a similar kind of funk when he'd first remembered his mission with Howard.
Natasha had helped him with that, and she'd said that things would eventually get better… but it still hurts sometimes. He'd done terrible things for Hydra, and he doesn't even know why.
His eyes dart up to Steve as he suddenly remembers his thoughts from this morning. "Do you still have the file?" he asks, leaning forward. "The one Hydra gave you on my missions?"
Steve's expression flashes with surprise before going uncertain, and he chews on his bottom lip. "Yes…" he replies reluctantly. "I do."
Bucky's heart surges in his chest. "Can I see it?" he bursts out, his eyes on Steve.
Steve looks even more hesitant than before. "Bucky—"
"Please?" he cuts in. He needs to see the file; he needs to know for sure what he'd done and if there was a reason behind it. "I'd rather know than sit here wondering," he tells Steve. "I can remember some of it but it's not enough, I don't know what I'm remembering."
Steve looks like he would very much rather not grant Bucky's request, but Bucky gets the impression that it is difficult for him to deny him anything, now that he can ask for things.
He glances over him for a moment and sighs. "…Alright," he agrees finally, his brow furled slightly in worry. "But…" He looks up and catches Bucky's eye. "I'd like to be here, while you read it, please. I don't want you to be alone for that."
Bucky imagines that his general state today will not support any arguments against that request, and he has also consistently needed to call Steve after dealing with his Hydra history, so he agrees.
"Okay." Steve sighs again and pushes himself away from the counter, glancing down at Bucky's half-finished bowl of oatmeal. "I'll go get it, you finish that."
Not about to refuse – because he finds his head is a little clearer now that he has some food in him – Bucky works on finishing his breakfast and filling another glass of water for himself while he waits for Steve to come back. His hands shake slightly on the glass as he waits, and his stomach somersaults with nerves as he tries to picture what could be in the file.
He can't imagine what it will be like reading it, but he can't help thinking that Steve had had to do it once. He'd had to read through page after page of what had been done to his best friend by an organisation that he'd thought had been destroyed – and then read about the terrible things that his friend had been made to do, up to and including killing Howard.
He swallows uneasily at that and stares at his glass. While he knows that it must have been hard for Steve (and Tony too), in a way, it's a bit of a relief. At least this way he can be sure that Steve accepts him fully, even after everything. Steve knows everything that Hydra had made him do, and he'd done everything he could to free him from Hydra and help him find himself. He probably shouldn't be surprised that Steve would do that – and he isn't, really – but it's still a relief.
He has to breathe in to calm the flash of anxiety that sparks in his gut once he hears Steve returning through his front door, and he turns to see Steve holding a thick beige file in his arms. Bucky swallows dryly at the sight and Steve presses his lips into a thin smile at him.
"Should we sit down?" he asks, with a nod towards the couch, and Bucky stands up, making his way over with Steve, his eyes inevitably drawn to the file as he sits down. "Alright," Steve says, giving him one last look before finally handing the thing over.
Bucky takes it gingerly, his tongue curled up in his mouth to keep from biting it as he stares at the folder in his lap. It's a simple beige file, no outward indication of the horror of its contents, and he doesn't know if he'd expected otherwise. Old blood stains or a deep red Hydra symbol would be appropriate but not very subtle.
He takes in a breath and flips it open.
He very quickly realises that the first several pages of the file are details of his abuse and conditioning by Hydra. There are even a few pages on the construction and implantation of his arm – which he supposes Tony must have studied at some point – but he flips through those pages rather quickly. He knows most of this already and he can't afford to be bogged down by it before he gets to the important stuff.
He doesn't exactly know when the mission with the girl had been, but when he thinks about it hard enough, it occurs to him that his hair in his dream had been shorter than it is now. Longer than when he had first been captured, but still shorter than later missions.
He flips past the conditioning records and decides to start at the beginning of his missions. If his hair is short, then that is probably a good place to start and hopefully he won't have to flip through too many—
He finds it three missions in. The third ever mission that Hydra had sent him on.
Mission file #2062
Date: August 29, 1954
Mission: Eliminate target - no witnesses
Location: Los Angeles, California
Target: Jean Paul Getty - Getty Oil Company
Sub-Target: Amy Getty
He stops reading for a second and stares at the sub-target line. He doesn't know what that means. Amy must be the girl, but why she would be a 'sub-target' and why she is on this file when he hadn't received any intel on her…
He keeps reading.
Handler Notes: While seemingly operational, the Soldier displayed reluctance to neutralise child-target Monroe (reference file #2041). Whether this was due to the young age of the target, or because the Soldier required further conditioning is unclear.
Fortunately, target Getty affords us the opportunity to further test the Soldier's conditioning. Intel indicates that Getty has part-time custody of his daughter, Amy Getty (8). Measures will be taken to ensure that the Soldier is unaware of her presence before the mission.
Agent Kuznetsov is tasked with creating a disturbance to alert the child. Within a margin of error, the Soldier will be forced to neutralise the sub-target in order to comply with the parameters of the missions.
If the Soldier does not comply, further conditioning will be required—
He stops reading, frozen in a sort of mute, dumb shock at what he had just learn. "It was a test," he says numbly, nausea rolling around in his stomach. He'd wanted to know what the mission had been and— it was a test. He doesn't know why the father had been targeted, but everything about his encounter with the girl – with Amy – had been planned.
He hadn't been ordered to kill her, but Hydra had purposely set him up to see if he would. It had been one of his first missions with Hydra, so they had probably still been trying him out, making sure he was working properly and—
He flips back a mission and scans his eyes over the contents.
Date: December 4, 1953
Mission: Terror target - reflection of Gillingham bus disaster
Location: Gillingham, Kent
Target: Woodlands Road School bus
Damage Report: Soldier's behaviour required use of force and sedation, resulting in grade 2 moderate contusions on upper limbs, face, and torso.
Mission Status: Failed
Notes: The Soldier performed poorly, displaying reluctance due to child-target Monroe and secondary casualties consistent with mission parameters. The Soldier became resistant to control attempts and was sedated to prevent possibility of escape.
He can't remember that mission, but it's clear that his handlers hadn't been pleased when he'd resisted it. So they had spent another few months conditioning him and had then tested him.
He flips back to the mission with Amy.
Mission Status: Complete
He'd passed.
He'd known that, of course. He'd known that he had killed the girl, but after learning that he'd tried not to kill children before he'd hoped—
"Bucky?"
He blinks, and Steve is beside him looking worried. "It was a test," he rasps out. "To see if I was brainwashed enough to kill children. They didn't— she didn't have to die. She wasn't important. There wasn't any reason except to test me."
Steve shifts next to him and Bucky keeps his eyes pinned to the mission file, his tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth. "I remember that mission," Steve says quietly, and when Bucky glances up, his eyes reflect the same pain that he feels.
A thin whine makes it past Bucky's lips and he clenches his teeth together. "It isn't fair," he bursts out, his hands tightening on the file. "I didn't want to."
"I know," Steve says softly. "I know. It isn't fair. You should never have had to go through that."
Bucky sucks in a breath and it shudders in his chest. His eyes grow wet and he presses his lips together, jerking his hands off the file before flipping it closed. Closing it doesn't erase what it holds though. It is still chalk full of people he'd killed, missions he'd been given and completed.
Had Hydra sent him to murder any other children? How many times had they tested him? How determined were they to force him to eliminate secondary casualties—?
"Bucky." Steve's hand is on his arm and he darts his eyes over to him, only now realising that his breathing rate has increased. "Bucky," Steve says again, his eyes flicking over him. "Come with me. Let's try something."
Bucky blinks at him, his surprise outweighing his mental turmoil for a moment as he watches Steve stand up. Steve watches him quietly and after a moment, Bucky nods, sitting up slightly and setting aside the file. He doesn't exactly know what Steve has in mind, but Steve has a solemn, calm look in his eye that makes him willing to try whatever it is.
He stands up and follows as Steve leads him out of the room and into the hall. "Where are we going?" he asks as they wait for the elevator, the trip helping a little to keep his mind off of the file back in his room.
"The BARF room," Steve tells him as they get into the lift. Bucky can't help being a little surprised at their destination – although he isn't exactly sure what he was expecting – and he stays silent as JARVIS takes the lift down.
Once there, he follows Steve out into the white room and watches silently as his friend goes over to the computer consoles and starts setting them up. Steve sits back after a moment and looks over at him.
"This is just an idea," he says. "And you don't have to do it if you don't want to, but…" He trails off and looks over to where the BARF glasses are resting near the computers. He reaches for them and stands up, walking over towards Bucky.
"The BARF tech has 'retro-framing' in the name for a reason," he says quietly as he reaches Bucky. He holds out the glasses, something complicated going on in his eyes. "Sometimes… our brain gets stuck in the past. Replaying it over and over because of regret or guilt." He swallows and looks down at the glasses. "This gives you the chance to settle things, a chance for catharsis and closure." He looks up at him. "If you want, you can use it now."
Bucky reaches for the glasses and holds them numbly in his hand. "It won't change anything," he says. "She'll still be dead. I'll still have killed her."
In front of him, Steve nods. "Yes," he says quietly. "But this isn't about changing the past, it's about learning how to live with it. It's about letting yourself move on." Bucky's eyes drop down and he swallows, his eyes on the glasses. Steve takes a step closer and grasps his upper arm. "You deserve to have peace too, Bucky," he says. "You've been punished enough, don't you think?"
Bucky lets out a shuddery breath that is almost a laugh and reaches up with his free hand to wipe his eyes. "Alright," he says quietly. "I'll try it."
Steve nods and steps away, letting him put on the glasses and step into the middle of the room. He's sure that if he were to ask Steve to leave, then he would, but he doesn't. He wants Steve here for this.
He closes his eyes and breathes in, letting himself think of the horrible mission. He opens his eyes and his holo-self is standing stealthily in a darkened bedroom, his eyes trained on the sleeping figure in the bed, his mouth covered by the mask.
Bucky swallows uneasily and presses his hands into his legs, his eyes sweeping up to where he knows Amy will enter. In front of him, his holo-self creeps forward a step, a knife down by his side, his feet silent on the floor.
The door makes a quiet sound as it swings open and his holo-self stills, his eyes widening as behind him, Amy edges into the room, her face pale. "Dad?"
Bucky breathes in and clenches his teeth. Retro-framing, he reminds himself.
Amy draws back as she catches sight of his holo-self, her hand tightening on the doorframe as her eyes widen. "H-hello?" she calls. This time the figure in the bed doesn't stir, and his holo-self stays still, swaying slightly by the bed. "Hello?" Amy calls again, taking a tentative step forward. "Who's there?"
By the bed, his holo-self closes his eyes and takes in a breath, slowly reaching over to close his knife and put it away. He turns to Amy then, crouching down to keep from looming over her and reaching up to pull off his mask.
"It's okay," he says quietly, his voice grating roughly in his throat.
Amy stares at him uncertainly, fear still prominent in her eyes. "Who are you?" she asks, her eyes flicking over him.
His holo-self raises his chin. "My name is Bucky," he tells her, meeting her eyes.
Amy stares into him. "Are you going to hurt me?" she asks, and Bucky's stomach clenches at the question.
"No," his holo-self says instantly. "I'm not."
Bucky lets the hologram fade out after that before pulling off the glasses. He feels… he feels like crying, but he also feels calmer now. He knows the memory is fabricated. He knows it isn't real… but it had been what he had wanted to have happened, it— it is what would have happened if he had been in control, if he had had a choice.
And… it helps, a little.
AN: So Bucky doesn't make a choice about fighting yet in this chapter yet, but he thinks about it a lot, and we get some more insight into his past missions.
Remember the first time he had that dream? You didn't even KNOW how evil Hydra was at that point. But at least we got to see Steve helping Bucky through his bad day and help him with what he learned.
