About one year after The Blip…
Sam had tried everything over the last couple of months. He was used to dealing with combat veterans. He was used to handling people who had blood on their hands.
But he was not used to this much blood. He was not used to this much trauma.
His new roommate, and coworker, was proving to be more of a problem than he had originally thought. And he had known full well what he was getting himself into when he signed up for this job. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, that this wasn't his problem to fix. But still, Sam was almost at the end of his rope with Bucky.
For the last year or so they had both been working for SHIELD trying to take down what was left of Hydra after the whole Project Insight incident. The people that had managed to escape and hide below the radar ever since. Ones that were never implicated in the first place. As well as any new recruits.
With as much time between now and then, it was quite the undertaking. Especially considering all that had happened between HYDRA being exposed hiding within SHIELD and now. Everything from rogue robots to annihilation-happy aliens.
They were supposed to be working together as a team as well as living in the same apartment. One provided by SHIELD. Which Sam was beginning to seriously regret agreeing to, for a lot more than one reason. One Bucky Barnes being at the center of them all.
Sam was used to the trauma of combat veterans. He was used to what they went through as he himself had also gone through it. He had even run a support group out of the local VA and was looking at starting one up again. He was not, however, prepared to deal with a 106-year-old WWII Army sharpshooter who was captured, brainwashed, and used as the world's deadliest assassin, against his will, for well over 70 years.
James Buchanan Barnes was a whole new type of broken. Even if his symptoms and condition were extremely similar to that which Sam had experienced so many times before. Both in himself and with others. They were almost in no way the same. It was almost like comparing apples and Volkswagens. On the surface, Bucky seemed to be just another veteran. Returning home fractured and bleeding.
Sam thought things had been bad at first. Then things went nuclear. Without the explosion, but with all of the fallout. Everything became so worse after Steve was gone. That set off something in Bucky that even Sam couldn't, and wouldn't, try to touch.
Bucky was in one hell of a rut, to say the least. The depression and trauma of Steve's passing and the trauma and the horrors of his past all compounded. He wasn't doing a terrible job at handling it. The problem was he wasn't handling it at all. He wasn't talking to anyone. Not even his therapist. And that was mandated by SHIELD. He wasn't eating. He wasn't sleeping. All he did was train, workout, and go on missions and assignments.
Sam had tried everything. Absolutely everything he could think of to try to get Bucky to snap out of it.
He had tried introducing Bucky to everything he had missed during his tenure as the Winter Soldier. He had tried music, movies, books, television, current events, different hobbies. Sam even tried sticking to period material as a last-ditch effort. Anything he could think of that might spark Bucky's interest. Even in the slightest.
Nothing ever seemed to stick. Anything Bucky did try his hand at, Sam knew that his heart wasn't really in it. He was just trying to either appease Sam or get him off his back. Or both. Nothing ever really came of any of it. Which disappointed Sam as well as pissed him off.
Hell, Sam had even set him up on a few dates to see if he could get that Lady's Man side of Bucky back that Steve always joked and told stories about. Every single one was a disappointment. Not just to Sam, but Bucky as well. He felt completely lost without Steve.
The truth was that Steve had always been an anchor for Bucky. Back before the war, during the war, and even more so now. Before he had been the logical one. The one with a clear head and conscience. He had always kept Bucky in check in one way or another.
Now, after his time and actions as the Winter Soldier, he had made Bucky feel worthy of still being called a friend. Steve had always been there for him. Even when Bucky had been intent on killing him. After everything Steve had made him feel worthy of redemption. Worthy of fixing. Worthy of breathing after all of the life he had taken from the world.
This devastating loss only cemented what he already felt. He felt completely and entirely out of his depth and disconnected from this world. And everything he tried only proved to himself and everyone around him how different and incapable he was in this new era. How out of place he really was now that his one true connection to it was gone.
What do you do after fighting for almost 90 years straight? How do you find peace? How do you move on? How do you create a new life for yourself? How do you do any of this when not a single person alive can relate to you? How can you keep going when the one person that could relate to you was now gone?
Bucky felt the answer deep in his bones: You don't. You just keep fighting. You never stop fighting. Because if you do, that might be the end of everything. If he stopped fighting, he'd lose everything. His mind included. And that was already on the precipice.
Currently, however, they were both just focusing on their missions and assignments. Always preparing for the next one. Always guessing what SHIELD would need them to do next. Bucky found some kind of semblance of comfort in the monotonousness of routine. At least during their missions, he had something to focus on. Something he knew he was actually good at and even excelled at. Something to stop his thoughts from racing and going back to times and places he did not want to go or to think about.
This was partially what he had been trained for, for so long. At least now he could use all of that training for something other than the nefarious purposes HYDRA and the KGB had used him for. At least now he was doing some semblance of good. Something Steve would be proud of.
Bucky always questioned whether it was really enough good. Whether anything he did would ever be good enough. Good enough to wipe the stain, that covered everything, off his record.
He seriously doubted it.
In the end, Sam always did the best he could with Bucky. Even when he told himself he would leave it for the professionals to handle. Even when Bucky did nothing to help himself. Sam could not just sit there and watch him spiral. He did his best to be there for him and have his back when they were on a mission or waiting for one. Bucky had turned into a friend, not just someone he lived and worked with, to him. Sam would do anything to help a friend.
But he also knew Bucky would never really talk to him. No matter how many nightmares or sleepless nights he went through. No many how many times Bucky woke Sam up in the middle of the night due to waking up screaming, or almost doing so. No matter how many times Sam caught him disassociating, going back to times and places Sam knew he ought not to go, and snapped him out of it.
But true to the Winter Soldier method and nature, Bucky usually kept to a brooding and stoic silence.
Sam knew it was up to Bucky in the end. Bucky would be the one to decide whether or not he even wanted to be saved. If he was worthy of being fixed. If redemption was in his cards and future. Sam knew that wasn't Steve's call like Bucky thought.
Sam also knew it would help if Bucky would just let his SHIELD mandated and appointed therapist help him, it would make the world of difference. If he was giving his doctor the same treatment he was giving Sam, he would get nowhere. Fast. If he would only just talk to him. To anyone. Let anyone in. Let the good doc do some good for him.
But both the doctor and Sam knew that Bucky was a tough nut to crack and had very good reasons not to open up.
Deep down he knew the doctor was getting just as far as he was with Bucky.
Sam also knew that this could only go on for so long before something broke. And that time was running out.
Spring was in the air and Sam was feeling pent up and stir crazy. The winter had been long and had taken its toll on both men. He and Bucky had just finished a particularly grueling training and workout session. Part of it was Sam's need to keep up with the super-soldier despite not being enhanced in any way outside of his wings.
Sam would never admit to it, but the truth was that he still had a serious complex from the first time he had met Steve on one of his morning runs. 'On your left.' Would forever haunt him.
The sun was just starting to cast its first rays of light onto the city. It was still extremely early for most people. Or very late for others.
From their apartment, Sam could see for miles. The skyline of Washington D.C. slowly waking up to a new day.
"Hey, Bucky. I think I'm gonna go for a run. You wanna come?" Sam said without taking his eyes off of the view.
Sam knew the answer, but the habit of asking anyway stuck with him. The answer he was met with was surprising.
"Yes. Just do me a favor and don't try to keep up with me like you did this morning." Came the monotone response from the kitchen.
Sam turned around in disbelief to look at Bucky. He didn't say anything for a beat. This was a step in the right direction after months and months of Bucky doing nothing but eating, sleeping (barely), working out, and going on missions and assignments.
"What? I'm not allowed to push myself and strive to enhance this already God-like physique?" Sam quipped back with a sarcastic tone. A small smile trying to tug at the corners of his lips.
Bucky just raised an eyebrow.
"You set the pace. Just don't hurt yourself over there, Adonis."
"Sure thing, Buck. Whatever you say." Sam turned and really smiled to himself. He knew how much Bucky hated being called that. Especially by him. And it just tickled him pink every time.
"Don't call me that."
"Whatever you say, Buck."
After a few weeks both Sam and Bucky had really grown to enjoy their almost daily runs through the city. Sam usually varied their paths slightly every time in the hopes that something they saw or came across would spark Bucky's interest.
Bucky enjoyed the fresh air and the change of pace and scene. He especially liked watching the sunrise. Every day a little earlier than the previous day. He liked watching the city and its inhabitants wake up. He liked seeing people start to go about their days. Noticing the patterns and the differentiation of each of the different routes they took.
Mostly he liked the fact that he actually felt like a part of the world. For the first time in too long. In these times he did not feel separate from it as he usually did. He felt one with it. Like he was a cog in a well-oiled machine, grinding away. As it should be. Whenever they took this time, he didn't feel like the broken piece that was upsetting the natural order of things.
Having Sam set the pace kept him in check so as not to draw attention to himself. He did not feel the need to watch himself as long as he kept pace with him. You cannot exactly exert yourself and start running at super soldier speeds without people noticing. This also gave Bucky more time to observe.
Observe the fact that Sam was always watching him out of the corner of his eye. Most likely trying to pick up on cues that Bucky was interested in something on one of the many routes they had started to take. He was aware that this was probably one of the reasons Sam had started this routine up in the first place.
Over time, Bucky did notice a few things. There was an old-fashioned malt shop a few blocks from the park they always ran through that was a block away from their apartment. There was an old record store as well as a thrift shop on one of the routes. There were also quite a few Jazz clubs where he sometimes saw posters for swing nights in the windows or marques. These always piqued his interest the most. He missed dancing.
What Bucky noticed most was the people. As the sun started to come up earlier and earlier, more and more people were making their appearances. Couples walking dogs in the parks. Other runners and joggers soon joined them. Men and women in suits and office attire walking to work rather than driving now that the weather was nicer. Bicyclists, skateboarders, and rollerbladers soon joined the fray.
An old woman who would always be sitting outside on her porch in an old porch swing. A middle-aged man in a neon yellow jogging suit. The house on the corner where three dogs always barked at them from the upper story windows. A young woman who would usually be sitting at the same concrete table and benches in the park near their apartment.
It was during these times when Bucky felt most at peace and one with the world around him. That he really did belong to it. That he was a part of it and deserved to be there.
That he deserved to be there, despite everything that was screaming at him that the fact remained; It would always be otherwise.