Sam had gotten used to 'hanging out' with the psycho ninja robot who had tried to kill him and his friends. It had taken him around a week, which was pretty lenient considering their history of attempted murder. Sure, he didn't let his guard down around the guy, but if there was one thing he had learnt in his line of work, it was that violence and aggression were not necessarily a reflection on a person's character. They were often times a reflection on a person's experiences. So, he joked and he talked with James Buchanan Barnes, but he never really thought he had 'gotten through' to the man. That was Steve's job as his best friend and…whatever else he was. He didn't have much to offer Bucky.
When Steve had first approached Sam to as for a little 'help' with Bucky, Sam had laughed out loud and patted him on the shoulder. Steve had let it drop, so he'd assumed it was a joke. When he asked the second time, Sam realised Steve required a little disillusioning. "This is a little different than dealing with war veterans, Steve. I've never dealt with someone so…"
"Damaged?" Steve had demanded, his tone challenging Sam to agree.
"Complex." Sam retorted instead. "I deal with garden grade PTSD in soldiers who went to Afghanistan. I've never dealt with post mad-scientist brainwashing effects on cryogenically frozen cyborgs from around a century ago. I mean…I don't know how to deal with that. It would be like the blind leading the blind, and I don't want to make matters worse. I'm in no way qualified for that."
"No one in the world is qualified for this, Sam."
"Yeah, but there are people who have more experience with this. Psychiatrists and stuff. I just run a support group."
"You do more than that! You help those people, you give them hope."
"I just don't think I have anything to offer Bucky."
"Can't you at least try, Sam?"
"Steve, it really isn't my place to-"
"I don't know who else to trust!"
If looks could rend a heart in two, Sam was sure his would be breaking right down the middle from the helplessness in Steve's eyes. Sam was sure no one else in the world could move someone to go above and beyond their own capabilities with just a glance. He was beginning to see that there was a reason people had been willing to follow this man to the ends of the earth, and the super-serum wasn't it.
Sam hadn't known what to reply, so he didn't say a word. In fact it took a few days for him to decide on what course of action to take (Steve had graciously staved off from demanding an immediate answer, though his hopeful glances were demanding enough).
"If there's one thing I've learned, Steve, it's that it's not about who the family and friends trust. It's about who the soldiers trust. I can't promise I can fix him. Hell, I can't even promise that I can help him. But I can promise you this, if he ever decides by his own free will to come to me for help, I will do everything in my power and knowledge to help him."
He hadn't thought much about it other than placating a friend's panic, so he really hadn't been expecting Bucky to call him up one night around half a year from when he had returned from the 'dark side'. Well, the call wasn't exactly weird (Bucky had learned that phones were awesome for finding out where Steve was, or if a movie night at the tower was a possibility); it had been the time of the call. 4.00a.m. in the morning was not normal Bucky Barnes time. He was usually out by 12.00am and up at 5.00am on the dot. The oddness of it had woken him up immediately, and Bucky had nervously asked him to come over, he hadn't wasted a moment before rushing over.
He'd been admitted to Steve and Bucky's floor (the second-nature cohabitation had not gone unnoticed by Sam) and Steve was sitting on the couch looking distressed, his hands gripping each other so tight his knuckles were turning white. He hadn't looked surprised to see Sam, so he assumed Jarvis had informed him of his arrival. "He won't let me in his room. I was just about to call you."
"He called me."
Steve stared blankly for a moment, before nodding and looking at Bucky's door. "This is it, then. He finally asked for some help. I'm guessing this is where you tell me to go to sleep and see him in the morning? Let you talk to him alone?" Sam nodded slowly and watched as Steve hesitantly walked over to his own room, whispering a goodnight before closing the door behind him. "Bucky, its me. You gonna let me in?"
It took him a minute, but Bucky opened the door from where he was sitting on the floor, a few feet away. Sam sat beside him and they ended up staring into the darkness of Bucky's room, backs to the wall, in complete silence. "I remember some things." Bucky muttered. Sam knew better than to interrupt now. "Sometimes the things don't make sense, but sometimes they do. I remember Steve sometimes. Not this Steve, the other Steve."
Silenced echoed between them.
"Other Steve?" Sam prompted. Let him get it out, he told himself, show him the way to get it all out. Bucky stiffened a little, before shrugging as if it was insignificant, when they both knew it wasn't.
"He was different. He smiles a lot more than he used to. Always had a scowl on his face back then, a chip on his shoulder a mile high, just waiting for someone to insult him or someone else nearby. Ready for a fight. He doesn't have to prove anything anymore. He's different."
"People change. People always change. And I'd like to think we all help him smile. You included."
"I like him like this. Always smiling. Not needing to feel like he has to prove anything."
It was coming soon. The reason for the late night call. Sam could feel it. Just wait a little longer…
"What if I snap, and I disappoint him, and he just stops smiling..."
There we go.
"That won't ever happen."
"You don't know that. My self-control is dodgy at best, and I have a few unidentified trigger words that-"
"I meant you could never disappoint him. You gotta know he thinks the world of you, Bucky."
"There are only so many times I can fail him before he gives up."
"That's not true. I know you think one day he'll give up on you, but he isn't like that. When it comes to you, his forgiveness is infinite."
"But is that a good thing?"
"It's what you make of it. It's a fact, one you can rely on like true north. So…its up to you. Do you want to use him, to take advantage of that forgiveness?"
"Of course not."
"Then we're already on the right track."
The 'we' had made Bucky smile.
It became nearly a nightly thing. Bucky would call, and Sam would come over and talk.
Steve would always watch them worriedly the next morning, looking for a difference in Bucky's behavior, an indication that talking to Sam was helping.
Then it became evening meetings, once a week, and Steve would sometimes sit in. Usually, he'd just sit at the kitchen counter (far enough not to hear, but close enough to see Bucky) while Sam and Bucky sat in the living room. Sometimes they'd talk about unimportant things like sports or movies. Sometimes they wouldn't even talk, they'd just sit in companionable silence, usually filled with either books or TV.
Sam noticed certain connections best when the TV was on, when Bucky was distracted enough to let his body language do the talking.
Bucky would look over at Steve and occasionally fidget, his fingers or his foot tapping a little. Sometimes after Steve passed by on the way to the kitchen, they'd share a smile, and Bucky would sing under his breath for the rest of the evening.
"Why do you sing that song?" he decided to ask one night. Bucky had frozen like a deer in the headlights.
"Does it bother you? I can-"
"Nah, man, I love the oldies. Just wondering why it's always that song."
Bucky bit his lip and focused on Bear Grylls sliding down a cliff on the flat screen. He was in some forest, maybe Yellowstone Park. It took Bucky about 5 minutes, before he muttered "I don't know…I just remember hearing the song when it came out and thinking 'sounds like Steve' and I guess it stuck."
The expectant look he passed Sam asked him a thousand questions.
Am I weird?
Is this wrong?
Do you hate me now?
Sam smiled with a little nod. "You're right. Sounds just like Steve."
Needless to say, Bucky sang a lot more often from then on. Sam just sat back and listened, and wondered if he'd ever find someone he could sing a song like that to, even after all those years.