Old Friends Chapter 12

By: Cadet Deming

I don't own the rights to Captain America or The Avengers, Marvel and Disney do, so please don't sue. Rated T for violence, language, drug references, implied child abuse and adult situations. Thank you so much to the people who read and review.

The handcuffs felt different on each of Bucky's wrists. His metal arm registered sensations only weakly, so his bound hands felt uneven.

The prison jumpsuit he had been given to wear scratched at his skin. It was bright orange. He expected it to be black and white stripes, but a lot had changed over the decades.

The guards led him to a bank of cubicles with a glass wall separating him from the other side. Steve Rogers rose up behind the wall, as if in a sign of respect. Bucky didn't feel like he deserved the respect, but sat down in front of him.

Steve mirrored him and picked up a phone receiver on his end.

He asked, "How are they treating you in here?"

Bucky deadpanned, "Like a wild animal that can go rabid at any time. But they gave me my first shower in weeks and I'm getting three square meals a day, so I can't complain."

Steve gave a wry half-smile, "How is the lawyer I got you?"

"Bernie Rosenthal? She seems ok. She's working to fight that Petition to have my metal arm removed. She seems feisty, but is a Jewish woman really the best you could do for my legal defense?"

Steve frowned. "Since you were frozen there was this thing called the Feminist Movement. Most law school graduates are female. And Jewish people kind of dominate the field of law."

"Duly noted. I missed a lot being frozen for 75 years, give or take a few."

Steve put his hand on the glass between them and sighed. "I thought I was alone in the world, that no one else would have gone through what I went through. Being made into a Supersoldier, being ripped from one war and thrown into multiple others, finding the world had gone so far forwards and so far backwards in different ways."

Bucky hesitated, but placed his hand opposite Steve's on the glass. They were separated by so little, and yet by so much.

Bucky said, "And here we are, just like old times. Brothers in arms. And yet you're still a war hero and I'm a criminal."

He pulled his hand back, not feeling worthy.

Steve asked, "Why did you do it Bucky? Why couldn't you just have called me? Why did you have to break the law and get someone killed?"

Bucky wanted to cry, but fought it off. "I'm a soldier. I follow orders. I need someone to tell me what to do. I need a mission. If I have to think for my own, I'm just doomed to make the wrong choice."

"Don't say that. You're more than that."

"You don't know what HYDRA did to me, what they did to my brain."

"Just tell the truth about what happened. No one can take that away from you."

Steve still held his palm against the glass. He looked so hopeful. Bucky couldn't remember what hope felt like.

"Yeah, Bernie told me to be honest and cooperative. They're sending me to a shrink next to see if I'm mentally fit to stand trial."

Steve asked, "Do you feel mentally fit?"

Bucky thought about it. "I don't know. I honestly don't know."

He didn't want to think too hard about what he was about to go through. He tried to turn things back on Steve.

Bucky asked, "So how have you been? Are you dating anyone?"

Steve smiled. "Yeah. I am. We haven't declared ourselves boyfriend and girlfriend yet."

Bucky started to feel a positive sense of déjà vu. It was like he and Steve were regular friends again, buddies from Brooklyn.

Steve continued, "It's Natasha Romanoff, the redheaded SHIELD agent you tried to kill several times over."

Reality hit Bucky like a pile of bricks on his head. "Oh. I'm sorry about that. It was nothing personal."

"Actually, you trying to kill both of us is what pushed us together in the first place. We bonded on the run."

"Well…see…that's what friends are for."

They both laughed awkwardly, even though it wasn't funny. He needed the release of nervous tension.

One of the guards said, "Your time is almost up."

Steve nodded and said, "It was good seeing you. I'll visit as often as they'll let me."

"I appreciate it."

The guard led Bucky back to his solitary cell. It was ten feet by 10 feet large and surrounded reinforced concrete. The only furniture was a twin-sized cot and open empty shelf. He had a small sink with a mirror and open toilet. An overhead fluorescent light cast a greenish pall over everything.

He had started to mark off each day he spent there with a notch on the bed-side wall. The only "decorations" were multiple words carved into the sides of the walls: "Crips…Bloods…Aryan Brotherhood…Dead Man Incorporated…Maggia." Bucky didn't know what they meant. He didn't see any HYDRA symbols, so that may have been a good sign.

Several hours later the guards came back. They led him to an interrogation room. The guards handcuffed him to a chair. He braced for torture.

One of the guards whispered, "Relax. It's just your meeting with the shrink."

They left and an overweight man with a red beard, moustache and a monocle entered. He wore a well-tailored grey three piece.

"Hello Bucky, my name is Doctor Johann Fennhoff. I will be conducting your psychological examination."

He had an Austrian accent and his voice was even. Bucky flashed back to Dr. Zola. He was wary of foreign doctors, especially ones that looked physically harmless.

Bucky said, "So you're going to poke around in my head and see if I'm crazy?"

"I don't use words like 'crazy'. They are too judgmental towards the mentally ill. I'm sensing some hostility from you."

Bucky gave a mirthless laugh. "I'm chained up like a common criminal. Why wouldn't I be hostile?"

"If I removed your handcuffs, would it establish trust between us?"

Bucky was suspicious, "You would really do that?"

"You have nothing to gain from attacking me, do you? I'll uncuff you if you promise to be completely honest."

"Sure Doc. Honest and cooperative. That's totally me."

Dr. Fennhoff took out a key and unlocked the cuffs. Bucky wondered if it was a skeleton key or if he got in from the guards in a pre-planned move. It didn't matter, as long as he was free.

"Thanks."

The doctor said, "Here's my card."

Bucky read he was a Board Certified Forensic Psychiatrist and his email address was DoctorFaustus-at . There was something familiar about the name "Doctor Faustus" but he couldn't quite place it. Was it a Grimm's Fairy Tale? Was it a story about a man who sold his soul to a demon? He couldn't remember.

Fennhoff took out a machine and pressed "record." He also took out a notepad and started writing.

He said, "Let's begin at the beginning Mr. Barnes. Tell me about your childhood."

"My childhood? It was normal. I grew up in Brooklyn during the Depression. We were poor, but we got by."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No. I was an only child."

"Was? You say that in the past tense."

Bucky frowned. "My childhood seems so far away, it's almost like it happened to someone else."

Fennhoff scribbled on his paper and muttered, "Interesting. Did you enjoy being an only child?"

"No. It was kind of lonely. We lived in an Irish-Catholic neighborhood, so most people had bigger families. It's probably why Steve Rogers and I got on so well. We were like each other's surrogate brothers."

Fennhoff perked up. "How would you characterize your relationship with Steve Rogers?"

"We were best friends."

"In the past tense. What are you now with Steve Rogers?"

"He's paying for my lawyer after I tried to kill him. If that's not true friendship, I don't know what is."

"How often does he visit you here?"

Bucky felt a protective instinct. "Why are you asking me so many questions about Steve? I thought this was an examination of me and me only."

Fennhoff said, "I'm just getting a full picture. And with all due respect, I ask the questions in the examination, not you."

Bucky crossed his arms. "Fire away Doc."

"Were you ever abused as a child?"

Bucky wanted to crawl inside of himself. He stalled. "Define abuse."

"Physical, emotional, sexual."

"You're really nosy."

"You're getting defensive."

Bucky grimaced. "My father may have hit me a few times, but he was always nice afterwards. That was normal."

Fennhoff scribbled some more. "Was there other violence in your childhood? Did you get into fights? Did you bully other children? Were you bullied yourself?"

Bucky remembered saving Steve from bullies, but instinctively didn't want to mention his name.

"I got into a few fights. It was part of growing up in the neighborhood, like a rite of passage. I always stood up for the little guys."

"Did you ever torture animals, start fires or wet your bed?"

"What the hell kind of questions are these? No on all of those."

Bucky was feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

Fennhoff asked, "Why did you join the Army?"

Bucky relaxed. "It was the thing to do. They made it seem like you weren't a man if you didn't enlist."

He didn't mention that Steve had inspired him.

Fennhoff said, "My records show you were a sniper in the 107th. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Did you enjoy that?"

Bucky relaxed a little. "Yeah. Yeah I did. I was good at it."

"Can you remember when HYDRA recruited you?"

Bucky tensed up again. He tried not to let traumatic memories flood him.

Bucky whispered. "I don't remember. I don't remember being recruited. Recruited implies you have a choice."

Fennhoff asked, "What do you remember?"

Bucky flashed back to the Grim Reaper approaching him in the bar and asking the same thing. He didn't want to have a panic attack. He couldn't break down now. He took a few deep breaths to stay calm.

"I remember cold. I remember being strapped down to a table and given injections. I remember being fished out of a river by Russian soldiers. I remember Arnim Zola attaching the metal arm on me. I remember no painkillers. They never used painkillers. I remember ice and being pulled in and out of it and they gave me electroshocks to make me forget and I'd forget and I'd remember and Alexander Pierce pretended to be nice and then he'd be mean and then he'd be nice like my father and they'd make me forget again and please don't make me remember this please don't make please don't make me please don't make me please don't make me…"

Fennhoff grabbed his shoulders and said, "It's going to be OK Bucky. You did well. I'm proud of you. We're done for now."

Bucky inhaled and exhaled.

Fennhoff turned off the recorder. He said, "I'm going to put the handcuffs back on you. Are you fine with that?"

"Like I have a choice?"

Fennhoff refastened his bindings. He said, "I'm curious. What kind of bedding do you have?"

Bucky furrowed his brow. Fennhoff asked the weirdest questions. "Regular twin sheets."

Fennhoff said, "It's funny. I've had so many patients tear the sheets up and use the nooses to commit suicide in their cells. They use the overhead lights to hang themselves. I guess they just couldn't handle the stress of an upcoming trial and suicide seemed so much easier. Sleep well tonight Bucky."

As the guards came to take Bucky back, Bucky could have sworn Fennhoff winked at him.

To be continued