The Winter Soldier's Mental Crisis

Third part of story. Same night he broke into an Old Folk's Home. Warning: Contains nudity and suicidal thoughts.

It was midnight when the Winter Soldier went back to his apartment, or rather, the unoccupied apartment of traveling individuals. He unbelted his weapons and donned all his clothes, until standing naked in the moonlight, his metal arm exposed into the light like a lethal weapon, searching the need to feel like Bucky Barnes without his equipment, while looking out the window that showed the view of the memorial sites and the reflection of his cold, tired, vacant expression.

Flashes of a small girl with brown curls entered his mind, wearing a yellow dress and ribbons.* She was seven, dancing around his feet and giggling while holding red/blue/white pompom. "Catch me if you can, Bucky Jim! Bet you're a pussy." He was seventeen, who had been chasing after her with Steve, who was sixteen and hanging out with them, until catching her and holding the little girl upside down in his strong arms.

"Come on, Steve, let's show this little maniac who's the real pussy," Bucky called to Steve.

"Careful she doesn't throw up, Buck, I've been there," Steve pointed out, but then snatched her pompom. "Go Yanks!"

"Oh, no, give it back!" squealed Becca, who was squirming in Bucky's arms, her underwear showing under her dress.

"Not unless you yield," Bucky told her, tickling her until she squealed louder. "Yield!"

"Never! Barnes' don't yield!" she shouted, high-pitched, but with pride in her child's voice, despite her head turning red from hanging upside down.

"Hear that, Bucky? Your kid sister's a rebel!" Steve smiled. "I'm starting to feel bad, are you?"*

"Nope, been there, done that." Then Bucky turned her back upwards, but held on to her. "Although, have to admit I admire the way she can handle torture. The Germans wouldn't stand a chance, huh Steve?"

Steve laughed, and Becca said with her arms wrapped around her big brother's neck, "Can I have pompom back?"

Steve made a move, but stopped when Bucky shook his head and said, "'Can I have my pompom back...?'" He raised his eyebrows as he waited.

"Please," finished Becca.

Bucky smiled and put her down. "Atta girl, Becky!"

"Here you go." Steve gave her back the pompom. "You earned it."

"What do you say, sis?" Bucky nudged her from behind.*

Becca smiled and shook her pompom. "Thank you, Steve."*

Steve was always there for him, just like he had always been there for Steve, even around his wild little sister, Rebecca. As his memories started resurfacing, the Winter Soldier let the pain overwhelm him like fire over ice, but kept looking out the window for what seemed like all night.* Half the time, he expected Pierce and the scientists to come back, realize he was growing even the slightest conscience, and then they would recharge him in the chair to wipe it all out. Somehow, even though Pierce was dead, he could still feel the voltage burning from the outside to the inside of his head. Instead of them going, they kept coming, but this time it was tsunami of all the horrors he had done: shooting, gun powder, fire, blood, bodies, bodies, BODIES...Gritting his teeth, he found himself crouching to the floor with his eyes shut, hands gripping his head as if trying to squeeze all the horrors out, but nothing can diminish it all.*

Your work is a gift to mankind...

Catch me if you can, Bucky Jim!

You shaped the century...

Barnes' never yield...

The procedure has already started...Sergeant Barnes...

Bucky!

Bucky?

Who the hell is Bucky?

You will be a weapon against the Americans...my twisted joke against them...

You're my friend...

You're my mission...

Then finish it...cause I'm with you till the end of the line...

I'm with you till the end of the line, pal.*

"NO!" His metal arm had knocked over the whole coffee table as he lashed out at nothing. Sweating and blind with the red in his vision, he lunged across the room, fumbled with the weapons on his bed, snatched up the gun and forced the muzzle against his head. The weapon pressed deep into his temple, finger on the trigger, his heart pounding until threatening to burst, he had his eyes closed as he forced himself to take deep breaths.

Do it, his own voice echoed in his head. It will only get worse. This is only the beginning. This is what you get for finding your humanity, when not even that could handle the monster you've become.

I tried to kill Steve, like so many others, after what I've promised him when we were friends. I've let him down.* I've let him down!

That's right. Zola's voice. You always protected him, even until the very end that had lead to your demise. Lead you to my laboratory. That protectiveness was reprogrammed to kill.* You even killed Howard Stark, another friend. Imagine his son out there, thinking his death an accident, until he finds out that you were responsible.

Get the hell out of my head!

This is all you. Pierce's voice. It's all in your head, but it is all too real. You were capable of your talents all along; we just wiped away the morals. No weapon needs morals. People are meant to die, for the good of others.

"Shut up, shut up," the Winter Soldier-Bucky-whimpered, his eyes now swimming with pain, from rage and despair. He knelt at the bed, his metal arm crushing the covers, and the gun still positioned at his head. What was wrong with him? This wasn't the first time he felt like he was falling apart, wanting to die, but this was the first time he was acting on it. The gun was loaded. But why not pull the trigger? Why not save billions of lives, like Pierce said, but this time from himself?

Because it won't bring the dead back. Steve's voice, which was more comforting. Even his face was pictured of him telling Bucky. Besides, it wasn't you. You didn't pull the trigger. Pierce did. Hydra did. They're the monsters, not you.

It doesn't make it any less my fault, Steve, he thought. I let you down. I once made a vow to be by your side, and all I ended up doing was put you in a hospital. I should have remembered you the moment I saw you on the roof of that building. I failed you. I'm sorry, Steve. If I end myself now, I can save you the trouble of having to kill me. I owe you that much.

No, you owe me by staying alive. I want my best friend back, Buck.

The gun still on his temple, Bucky stared ahead while watching the moonlight, the storm in his head fading slightly. Slightly. I want my best friend back, too, Steve.*

His gaze dropped and on the bed, through his blurry haze, he found the navy-blue hair tie lying there alone. Gently, with his metal arm, he picked up the hair tie and held it delicately at eye level.

Maisie. His gun slowly lowered, he let out a shuddering breath. Her innocent, hopeful face appeared in his mind, glowing through the darkness and calming all the noises in his head.

I believe in you, her little voice whispered.

While putting two metal fingers through the loop of the tie, Bucky pressed it to his lips and shut his eyes, but tears were already streaming down his face. He was like that for a long time, before finally whispering, "I'm sorry, Maisie. I'm so sorry." These were one of the times when he has forgotten that he had reasons to live-they were few, but they were there. For Steve, for Maisie, for Rebecca...the memories will keep coming back and they will hit hard. He will probably end up with wanting to commit suicide again, but for these three of the most important people in his life, he will continue fighting for his survival. I'm coming, Rebecca.*

Last part is up next. I always love saving the best for last. Hang in there, Bucky!