Bucky sat in the corner, slumped, his eyes unfocused. He held his journal in his outstretched hand, draped over his knees, which he had pulled up against his chest. His mind was foggy, but a few thoughts stuttered through the misty veil.
What did you do?
What did you do?
What did you do?
Why had he saved Steve? He was in danger now, more danger than he had been in when HYDRA had him. Steve would search for him now.
How could he face Steve? His friend, or once-friend, at least, must be disgusted with him. No, not disgusted. But he would be, if he ever found out what Bucky had done.
All those people.
All that blood.
The memories choked him. Why, oh why must he remember them all? Why could he never forget?
Steve's words echoed in his ears. "I'm with you till the end of the line."
Bucky scoffed. If Steve knew, if he knew…
If he knew
What had Bucky done
What was happening?
Why did this happen to him?
Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why…
What was wrong with him?
He had been happy, before.
Before everything.
He had friends and
What else?
A family
A life
A home
A lifetime of laughter ahead of him.
And it was all taken away.
Bucky almost laughed.
All this pain, all this suffering?
It would never have happened if that train handle hadn't broken.
All of this was due to poor train design?
Bucky laughed, then coughed, then cried.
Why
Why
Why
Did this happen to him?
Everything had been snatched away, every laugh and every sob, all feelings, all happiness, all of it, everything that he had, that he could have had, it was all gone. He curled up in the corner, holding his journal to chest, the only bit of his old self he still had. He remembered Steve giving it to him, the black cover shining in the fluorescent lighting, the tears shining in Steve's eyes. It had been the day before Bucky left for the army, just after he had saved Steve- again- from being beat up. It nearly killed Bucky to leave his friend, but he tried his best to feign happiness. He couldn't help wondering, though, what would happen to Steve when he was gone. Steve had moved in with Bucky and his family after Steve's parents had died, though he insisted he would be fine.
Bucky smiled, thinking of how fiercely independent Steve wanted to be, though in truth they had needed each other more than either of them would have cared to admit.
But Steve didn't need anyone now.
Bucky remembered saying goodbye, the tears, fighting to stop crying. Telling Steve not to get into any fights.
Where would the world be now if Steve had taken his advice?
Where would he be now?
Bucky hated himself for blaming Steve. None of this was Steve's fault. It wasn't anyone's but HYDRA's.
But still…
A tear slipped from Bucky's eye. He lay curled up in the corner, the journal, his bit of yesterday, clutched to his chest, sobbing his heart out.
If he even had a heart anymore.