"I really really don't want to have to do this…." Bucky sat on the edge of his bed, leaning on a crooked knee. He'd been sitting there nearly 20 minutes, putting off having to finish getting dressed. A light, puckered network of scars crisscrossed his chest and down his side, where it vanished under the waist of his pants. He ran his hand over them absently, out of nervous habit.
He'd been having nightmares more regularly again, in anticipation of the hearings and investigations that started today. Until recently he'd been doing well. He still woke up panting from screaming, still hated himself some days. But the really bad nights were slowly becoming fewer. Some progress was better than nothing.
"I know, Buck." Steve handed him a button-down uniform shirt without being asked. Bucky accepted it reluctantly, and resumed dressing himself. "But unless you want to get charged with a whole lot of war-crimes, we're gonna have to prove you're not the Winter Soldier."
"I was the Winter Soldier." Bucky reminded him, tucking in his shirt-tails and examining his reflection in the mirror. It was polished aluminum, as Steve justifiably disliked keeping anything glass in their apartment since Bucky's last major incident.
"But you're not anymore. You didn't decide to become a mercenary; you got kidnapped and brainwashed. I'd call that pretty involuntary. You're as much a victim as anybody else." Steve leaned against the door to wait for him. As usual, he'd been ready right on time, and waiting around in uniform since 0800. Bucky had never been the punctual sort.
"Yeah, well, somehow I don't think your vote of confidence isn't really gonna be enough on this one, pal."
"What, you don't think Captain America's word is good enough?"
"I think 'top international assassin of the century' might outweigh your good word a bit, yeah."
"So, Sgt. Barnes, I should start by telling you that you are accused of some very serious crimes, some of which carry extremely heavy penalties."
"Yes… I understand that, Captain Harris."
"You have been involved in-" She examined her notebook, "a minimum of 30 verifiable deaths in the last 70 years. Is that correct?"
"I… I honestly don't know, ma'am. My memory of everything from my MIA until this past year is pretty much gone.
"So you have amnesia? Is what you're telling me?"
"I guess? What I know for sure is that I was on a mission with Steve. … er.. Captain America. I fell probably 300 feet from a moving train and not too surprisingly, everybody assumed I was dead. I don't know why I'm not. I know I got picked up and rebuilt by HYDRA-"
"Yes, we are aware of HYDRA's involvement."
"And they did something to my head, I still don't really understand what, and erased… basically my entire life. I didn't remember anything. They sicced me on people they wanted dead and I did what I was told."
"Mmhmm...Sargeant, your birth-date is listed as…. 1917."
"As stupid as it sounds, they… they froze me when I was inactive. Kept me in the veggie drawer, I guess…"
She made a note of this but didn't comment.
"So you followed orders and assassinated assigned targets. But you no longer identify as 'Winter Soldier'."
"Yes, ma'am."
"What changed, Sargeant?"
"To be completely honest, I don't really remember it first-hand. All I know is Steve- Er… Captain America, snapped me out of it. He got me back in my own head."
"Captain Rogers, any comment?"
"What he said. I've known Buck my entire life and when we met each other again, he had no idea who I was. I got through to him eventually and he started coming back around. He's not the cold-blooded-assassin type, Captain. He fights bullies, he doesn't work for them."
More silent notes.
"And do you feel any remorse, Sgt. Barnes?"
"Every goddamn day." A haggard shadow had fallen over Bucky's face. Steve winced in sympathy.
"Though you still claim not to have had any knowledge of what you were doing at the time?"
She pursed her lips and looked over her glasses at him.
"Look, Captain." Bucky leaned toward her intently. She leaned away. "I wake up every day knowing I killed at least 30 people doing my own personal version of sleep-walking. At least that many. On top of all that, that I was almost forced to kill my best friend. I have to live with that. Every. Day. For the rest of my life."
Bucky's hands clenched and unclenched and his throat worked unsteadily. Captain Harris shifted her chair a few inches further away.
"Sgt. Barnes has had a tough year", Steve supplied, setting a hand on Bucky's shoulder in unspoken support. "He's had some bad days, but he's gotten through them. He's not a murderer. He was used against his will and that's all there is to it."
"I understand, Captain, but I do have to be certain to address certain key issues in my investigation of this matter." Captain Harris put her notebook away in a tidy khaki briefcase. "I think I will be able to clear Sergeant Barnes of wrong-doing, in this instance, especially given the extensive files that have been recovered relating to this incident. I will need to see the metal limb however."
Bucky flinched.