When the seasons change
And we're in for colder weather
Look for me on the divide
I won't let you down
When the seasons change
I won't go down
I'll fight through the pain
I'll be there right by your side
I'll never let them bring you down
I won't let you down
When the seasons change
- "When the Seasons Change" by Five Finger Death Punch
"...and his eyes got so big when the sponges started expanding in the water! He looked like he was expecting the little green lion to jump out of the bowl and start growling at him."
Bucky smiled fondly, listening to Steve's account of Jake's adventure with little sponge pellets that expanded into animal shapes when dropped into water. It was so ordinary, but somehow that made Bucky long for it even more. "I can't wait to see him again," he said.
Steve's smile widened, and he leaned forward a little, as if he wanted to reach through the glass between them. "The hearing's tomorrow," he murmured.
"Yeah." Bucky's heart lurched, as it did every time he thought about it. He couldn't decide if he was more excited or nervous. Matt seemed confident about their chances of getting the case dismissed...but then, Bucky had almost taken it for granted that he would get out on bail, and look what had happened...
"What are you looking forward to most once you get home?" Steve asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Bucky thought for a minute. "Hot chocolate. And some good deep dish pizza."
"An odd combination," Steve chuckled, "but I think we can make that happen."
Bucky shrugged. "They're just two things you can't get in here. But really, I'm craving anything that Sam cooks. And even your cooking is better than the stuff here."
"Hey!" Steve pretended to look offended.
Bucky laughed at his friend's expense, and his smile softened as he thought of all the other things he'd get to do once he was free again. "The other thing I really want to do is take a bath. A nice, long soak in the tub...and then maybe you could give me a backrub."
"Absolutely," Steve said earnestly. He looked like he was itching to get started on a full-body massage right then and there. After a moment or two of just gazing wistfully through the glass, he murmured so softly the phone almost didn't pick it up, "It's really happening, isn't it?"
Bucky drew a deep breath. "Yeah." He couldn't keep a stupid grin from spreading across his face. "Yeah, it is."
"Tomorrow night...you'll be home."
Something rose in Bucky's throat till he could barely breathe. Something giddy and hopeful and almost desperate. And for the first time, he really let himself believe it.
For once, when he said goodbye to Steve and returned to the cell block, Bucky's heart remained light. The hours still crawled by, but now it seemed like an actual, finite number that he could count down.
He was a little surprised when Officer Fields pulled him out in the afternoon to take him for an attorney visit. Matt had come by on Monday to go over what to expect in the hearing...but maybe he'd forgotten to mention something. Or maybe there was some last-minute paperwork to fill out.
As soon as he stepped into the visitation room, Bucky could tell that something was different about Matt today. He couldn't put his finger on it immediately—Matt sat there as calmly as ever, and stood to shake Bucky's hand just like he always did.
Once they were alone, Matt leaned his elbows on the table and let out a sigh. Sometimes it could be hard to read his expression, because of the sunglasses, but Matt looked much less cheerful than he had on Monday. "Bucky...I'm afraid I have some bad news."
Bucky's stomach swooped with dread, all trace of excitement and optimism evaporating instantly. "They didn't call off the hearing or something, did they?"
"No, the dismissal hearing is still happening," Matt said. "And the prosecution still hasn't presented any evidence, so it should be a fairly simple proceeding." His jaw clenched as he turned to remove a folder from his briefcase, and Bucky realized that Matt was angry.
"Kenneth Gates must be as confident as we are that your case will be dismissed tomorrow," Matt said, pulling out a sheaf of papers stapled together. "And he seems determined to prevent you from walking free. The prosecution has filed a new complaint." He slid the papers across the table. "They're charging you for the Winter Soldier's crimes."
Bucky's eyes dropped to the thick stack of paper in front of him. Count One – First-Degree Murder. Hand shaking, Bucky clumsily flipped through the pages of this long document. And there, written in bold print on each page, was the list of all the crimes he was accused of.
Murder... Attempted murder... Murder for hire... Terrorism... Acts of terrorism transcending national boundaries... Bombing of government facilities... Bombing of places of public use... Treason...
He felt like he'd missed a step going up the stairs. Like he'd almost reached the top, only to discover that the stairs no longer existed and he was plummeting to the bottom of a deep, dark hole.
"This...how...I can't..." His heart pounded furiously in his ears, so loudly that even his own voice sounded fuzzy.
He wasn't going home tomorrow. He was never going home. The U.N. bombing was one thing, because he hadn't even been there and had nothing to do with it...but he couldn't deny that these horrible accusations were true.
He'd done all of those things. He could remember doing them. There was no getting around it this time, not with all that blood staining his hands. Steve could say all he wanted that it wasn't his fault, that Hydra was to blame, but...
Steve's name was there. Bucky focused on the name, written on the page under the heading Attempted Murder. There was a whole paragraph about it, listing dates and locations and details. The defendant attacked Steven Rogers and Samuel Wilson with intent to kill...
Guilty...guilty...guilty...
"...my voice. Bucky, can you hear me?"
Sucking in a deep breath, Bucky clawed his way back from the edge of despair. Wrenching his eyes away from the horrible document in front of him, he saw that Matt had taken off his sunglasses, revealing a concerned expression. Bucky wondered what kind of sounds he'd been making.
"Take a deep breath," Matt advised. "This was a low blow from Gates, springing something like this on us at the last minute, but we're not giving up. It's going to be okay."
"Okay?" Bucky burst out, running a hand desperately through his hair. He could feel the familiar painful pressure of impending panic building in his chest, and no number of deep breaths seemed able to dissolve it. "This...This isn't like the other... I did these things! I don't have an alibi, I-I can't prove I wasn't there, because I was there, and-and-and how can I...I'll be stuck here for the rest of my..."
Nope. That was it. Couldn't do it.
With a loud scrape that echoed off the empty walls, Bucky surged to his feet and started pacing back and forth. It took all of his strength to keep from tearing the door off its hinges and running down the length of the hallway outside.
No, no, can't do that. Won't do any good. Only make things worse.
"If that happens, it will be the greatest miscarriage of justice I've ever seen."
Matt spoke quietly, still sitting calmly at the table, but those words brought Bucky up short. He braced himself against the wall with his hand and stared at Matt, still straining to draw a deep breath without it catching painfully in his chest. After a moment, he managed to force out a breathless question, "Wh-What...do you mean...?"
"According to what you and Steve have told me, you had no control over your actions as the Winter Soldier. You were coerced and tortured into following Hydra's orders, correct? That gives us ample ground to build a defense for you, and show that the blame lies solely with Hydra. As we speak, Foggy is already starting to look into expert witnesses who might be able to testify on the methods Hydra used. We can bring in character witnesses, as well as a psychological evaluation, and..."
As Matt laid out his plan, Bucky found his racing pulse gradually slowing down again. Matt knew so much more about the legal world than Bucky did...he'd dealt with criminal cases before, albeit none quite so huge, so if he wasn't freaking out...
Bucky sank back into his chair, swallowing painfully. "Do you...really think there's a chance?"
"Yes," Matt said immediately. "This case is much more complex than the bombing, and it will take much more time to prepare our defense. But I believe there is a way. And I will keep fighting for you, all the way to the Supreme Court if necessary. I promise." His blind eyes burned with such conviction, it was almost scary.
Drawing a shaky breath, Bucky asked, "Why? Why are you so...why do you care about this so much?"
With a little smile, Matt replied, "There's an old saying in the legal world called Blackstone's Ratio. You may have heard it before: 'It is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer.' I'm a defense attorney. Protecting the innocent is my duty."
Innocent. No one had ever called him that before. Swallowing hard, Bucky said, "I...don't know if I believe I'm innocent. And if I don't even believe that...how is the jury ever going to believe it?"
"Because it's the truth."
And how could Bucky argue in the face of such simple, honest conviction? Looking into Matt's confident eyes and calm smile, Bucky could almost believe it was true. And if he can almost convince me...maybe he can convince enough of the jury too.
Steve sat in his reserved seat in the courtroom, staring blankly at his hands clasped in his lap. Over the past 24 hours, his emotions had been swinging like a pendulum between crushing disappointment and blistering indignation. But at the moment, he just felt empty.
Yesterday, he'd been so cheerful as he made his way home from Rikers. He'd gone in and dusted a few things in Bucky's room to get it ready for him. He'd asked Sam to come for breakfast tomorrow and make pancakes.
And then, when he'd been about ready to go to the grocery store with Jake to get the last few essentials to welcome Bucky home...Matt had called. In just five minutes, every hope and expectation Steve had about this day crumbled to dust.
Steve glanced up at Kenneth Gates, who sat at the prosecutor's table, whispering to another member of his legal team. Another rush of anger filled Steve's heart, and he had to look away. Maybe it had only been a matter of time before someone tried to get Bucky convicted for the horrible things Hydra had done through him...but why did it have to be now? If Gates had been intending to open this case against Bucky all along, couldn't he have begun the process earlier? At least then, they wouldn't have lived with this false hope, only to have the rug pulled out from under them.
Forcing himself to unclench his fists, Steve turned his gaze towards Matt, who sat running his fingers along a page of notes at the defense table. Steve hated the helplessness of only being able to sit and watch other people discussing what should happen to his best friend. But the one thing he'd been able to do was hire Matt, so now was the time he needed to put his trust in him and let him do his job. When they spoke on the phone, Matt had sounded stressed but hopeful.
"This is going to be a much longer fight than we were expecting," Matt had said bracingly, "but the last thing either of you should do right now is despair. The prosecution is going to have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Bucky carried out these crimes of his own volition, and we stand a good chance of showing that wasn't the case at all. We're going to make sure that the truth is known and justice is carried out."
Steve believed that if anyone had the skills and the motivation to make that happen, Matt Murdock did. So he'd just have to leave it in his hands.
Finally, everyone stood as Judge Alito entered the courtroom. Once everyone was seated again, she called in the defendant. Just like in the bail hearing, two police officers led Bucky into the room, dressed in his bright orange prison uniform with his hand cuffed to his waist. His eyes met Steve's across the room, and he didn't break their gaze until he had to turn around and find his seat.
Steve had seen him just twenty-four hours ago, but now he seemed...diminished, somehow. He'd been so full of hope yesterday, but now the wind had been taken out of his sails.
Forcing himself not to think about how this day should have gone, Steve tried to focus on the proceedings instead. Once the preliminary formalities were carried out for the record, Kenneth Gates stood and said, "Your Honor, regarding the merit of the motion to dismiss, there is one issue I'd like to address before the Court."
When Judge Alito nodded for him to proceed, Gates continued, "The prosecution has received and reviewed the court order in reference to Mr. Barnes's dismissal of all related charges. We've reviewed that motion and we respect the Court's ruling, but at this time we would ask the Court to retain Mr. Barnes in custody due to additional charges levied against him as of June 28."
Matt immediately stood. "Your Honor, I am not prepared to address anything involving alleged international war crimes at this time. I was not given notice that this was an issue that was going to be brought up in this session. If opposing counsel wants to bring an argument as to the other case, they need to wait until the hearing this afternoon, or they need to send appropriate notice. I am not speaking as to that case here." A slight tension in his voice was the closest he came to betraying how he truly felt about the situation. Steve remembered how angry Matt had sounded when he'd told him what the prosecution had pulled at the last minute.
"And I can respect the defense's position as to the other case, Judge," Gates said smoothly. "I can reserve the other argument for this afternoon if the Court wants."
"Okay," Judge Alito said, straightening her papers. "Let's move on to the defense motion. Mr. Murdock, when you are ready."
Matt nodded. "Judge, I don't have anything to add to my first motion for dismissal. If Your Honor has any questions about the arguments I included in my motion, please let me know."
"All right."
"I do want to let the Court know I haven't received any written response or evidence from the prosecution that they're going to be relying on for this hearing, so I will probably not be able to respond to a lot of what Mr. Gates says. This is a motion that I filed in the beginning of May. Regardless of that, I haven't received anything, but I'm not asking for more time or continuance. Let's just proceed."
"I did not provide a written response," Gates cut in. "The Court did ask that I provide any authority that I was going to use to the defense, but the authority that I'm relying on is that which he included in his motion. I'm not going to be arguing any case to the Court that is not included in his motion, so therefore I have nothing to provide."
Judge Alito nodded to him. "Okay, whenever you're ready."
Gates drew himself up and said in a forceful tone, "Your Honor, we strenuously object to this case being dismissed."
Steve's heart sank through the floor.
The following hour was agonizing. Both attorneys were given half-hour segments to speak, and took turns addressing the other's talking points, legal references, and recommendations. The judge took several opportunities to ask questions, review the documentation, and discuss several points with precision.
But watching Matt tackle every one of Kenneth Gates's thinly veiled attempts to discredit and isolate Bucky as the only possible offender of the Vienna bombing kept every observing member of the audience on the edge of their seats. Matt was calm and thorough with every point he made and every prior legal case or law he referenced, with Foggy beside him for quiet support and quick discussion. It was clear they'd spent the last several weeks doing an exorbitant amount of research into every possible angle that could be so much as implied to keep the charges marching forward. Every justification and bit of circumstantial evidence that was laid out to keep Bucky on the pyre was matched with equally ferocious rebuttals.
Though Steve could see little more than the back of Gates's head, he could tell the man was nervous. It was clear his promises to gather additional and more damning evidence had not gone nearly as well as implied, and it was clear in his behavior that Matt's confidence and defense was a force to be reckoned with. His voice raised at odd points, he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and seemed to only be able to repeat the same two talking points in a variety of different ways. The security camera footage placed Bucky at the scene of the crime, and his military history gave him the necessary skills to carry it out. Gates offered no other evidence to back up his claims or parry the many attacks Matt made against his case. Even the judge started to grow impatient, peering over her reading glasses with an unimpressed expression.
It was difficult to sense what would come next, but when Gates opened his final counter-argument with, "I don't really understand that interpretation from Mr. Murdock, but—" Steve saw Matt's shoulders drop a fraction and a tiny ghost of a smile on Foggy's face. The final nail was in the coffin.
Then, at last, the judge shuffled her papers around one last time and looked up at the men standing at their respective podiums. "After this full review of the evidence presented today both in favor of and against the defendant's accused charges, the Court believes prosecution has not met the burden of proof to provide clear and sufficient evidence of guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. I am going to approve the motion to dismiss, and all related charges are hereby dropped. This case is dismissed."
Steve let out a quiet breath of relief as the bang of the gavel echoed around the room. It wasn't the complete victory they'd been hoping for all this time...but it was still a huge weight off their shoulders. At least they wouldn't have to fight this war on two fronts.
Judge Alito continued, "The defendant, however, will remain in custody while awaiting pre-trial for a separate case, the first of which is scheduled for this afternoon at 2:45 p.m."
While the judge and the attorneys worked out the last few logistical matters and brought the hearing to an end, Bucky turned around in his seat to catch Steve's eye again. Steve tried to give him an encouraging smile, clasping his hands together so no one would see that they were trembling.
The one thought that kept running through his mind was, So much for the easy part.
The day seemed to drag on forever, like a nightmare he couldn't escape. Steve didn't bother going home after the first hearing, and he knew Matt and Foggy would be busy preparing for the next one, so after calling Sam to give him an update, he found a cafe to wait in until the afternoon. He wasn't hungry, so he spent most of the time picking at his sandwich and watching the minutes tick by with agonizing slowness.
But finally, it was time for the other hearing. Because the charges against Bucky were unrelated to the ones Judge Alito had dismissed, his case had to be heard by a different judge. Derek Maddox, who was completely bald except for a thick grey beard, struck Steve as a no-nonsense sort of man with little patience for anything but the facts. Steve couldn't help wondering if things would have turned out differently if he'd been the judge assigned to the U.N. bombing case. Maybe nothing would have turned out differently, but maybe he wouldn't have put up with Gates's hollow speculations.
Well, we can't change that now, Steve reminded himself. Besides, the final verdict is up to the jury, after all.
For the most part, the hearing that afternoon was similar to Bucky's arraignment several weeks ago. Matt announced that the defense would plead not guilty, and then made similar arguments as he had the last time about why Bucky should be allowed out on bail, at least under house arrest. He also brought up the danger to Bucky's personal safety that he'd already encountered in Rikers.
Steve wasn't particularly surprised when Judge Maddox denied him bail. Every single one of the charges raised against Bucky were felonies that would keep him in prison for the rest of his life, probably without even a chance of parole, if he was found guilty. And even though Steve knew Bucky wouldn't run from this, the judge had no way of knowing that for certain. From his perspective, it was a lot safer to simply keep Bucky right where he was.
From Steve's perspective, it felt like the bitter end of a cruel joke. It felt like they'd already decided he was a hardened criminal, and all that was left was to lock him up and throw away the key.
His hands wouldn't stop shaking, all through the hearing. How were they going to fight this? As skilled of an attorney as Matt was, could he really convince twelve people that, even though Bucky had carried out every one of those terrible crimes, he was not to blame?
It was hard enough to convince Bucky himself that he wasn't guilty. Steve had been working on that for well over a year, and he still wasn't sure how successful he'd been. How much harder would it be to convince complete strangers who only knew that Bucky had been accused of a bombing?
He wished he could hold Bucky and reassure him that everything was going to be all right. He wished Bucky could hold him and convince him of that too. Instead, all they could do was sit there and listen to other people argue over his fate.
Sam sank back into the cushions of the couch with a tired sigh, resting his head against the chilled glass of lemonade in his hand. It had been a long, exhausting day—for him, but probably even more so for Steve, who sprawled across the other couch, staring glumly into space. He was still wearing the suit he'd worn to the courthouse, though he'd discarded his jacket and tie and undone a couple buttons on his shirt. He looked like he'd been wrung out and hung up to dry.
To be honest, Sam felt a bit like that himself. For one thing, he'd spent the entire day with Jake instead of just the morning. In itself, that wasn't really a problem, but Jake had seemed on edge the entire day, as if he'd picked up on Steve's sour mood. Or maybe it was just the change in routine that bothered him. Whatever the case, Sam had also had to deal with one of his temper tantrums, in which Jake had climbed onto the kitchen counter and thrown all the contents of one cupboard onto the floor. Fortunately, neither of them had been hurt. Unfortunately, the cupboard Jake had picked was the one with all the glasses, so Sam had to be extra careful cleaning up the mess.
That would have been stressful on the best of days, but Sam had also been worrying about Bucky all day. He wished there had been some way he could have gone with Steve, even though he knew they wouldn't have been able to talk to Bucky at all. He missed that idiot's stupid face. He hadn't seen him at all since that video call on the day of Peggy's funeral.
By the time Steve had come home, Sam had been nursing the beginnings of a headache from all the stress. But it was Wednesday evening, which meant he had a job to do. So he had to just grab a quick bite to eat and head off to the VA to lead his Wednesday night session. The discussion had been good, but emotionally taxing. The gruffest, toughest guy in the group, who'd said he was only there because his wife made him go, had broken down completely when he told them all that his ten-year-old daughter had said she hated him. He was making progress, but Sam knew it would be a long, uphill climb before he'd be able to truly connect with his family again.
With a sigh, Sam took a swig of his lemonade, wondering if he should have gone for something stronger instead. Another spark of pain stabbed at his temple, like his body was poking at him to go downstairs and fall into bed. But he didn't want to leave just yet. He and Steve hadn't had much of a chance to talk about what had happened, but now that Jake was in bed and they were both free, they could finally discuss everything at length.
"Hey," he said wearily, catching Steve's attention, "how you holding up?"
"Me?" Steve said with a trace of bitterness. "I'm doing fine."
Sam snorted at the obvious lie, but didn't push the matter. "It's disappointing...to put it mildly. Guess we're in it for the long haul now."
"I should've known," Steve mumbled. "Should've known it was too good to be true. It's like we're...destined to keep getting separated."
"Okay, drama queen," Sam said with a roll of his eyes. "If you want to have a guilt trip about not being able to see the future, be my guest. But there's nothing wrong with hoping for the best, you know. Besides...you can just as easily say that you and Bucky are destined to keep finding each other."
"There's that silver lining you're always looking for," Steve said with a half-hearted smile. The smile slipped off his face almost immediately, though. "I...don't know how we're going to make it to the trial, Sam."
"Because you were both banking on Bucky getting out today?" This was starting to feel a bit like a therapy session, what with Steve lying on the couch off to the side and everything.
Steve let out a heavy sigh. "You know...we talk every day...and I try to keep him up to date with everything that's happening at home, but...it's not enough. There's a lot of stuff we just...don't bring up. 'Cause there's not enough time, or because all our conversations are being recorded... I don't know. I guess I was just waiting till he got out and then we could just talk about it all. But now..."
"You'll have to wait a lot longer till you can talk freely like before," Sam supplied when Steve trailed off.
Steve's jaw worked as he stared fixedly up at the ceiling.
"You know, I don't think you can keep putting off those conversations," Sam said gently. "It's going to be a long wait, and you can't just...not talk about anything important for months and months. That's not going to do either of you any favors."
"So what do I do?" Steve muttered.
Sam sipped thoughtfully at his lemonade. "I'd just start with telling him how you feel about all this. Let him know what you're going through. That invites him to open up too."
"But I don't want to drag him down either," Steve said with a frown. "He has it bad enough without listening to my problems."
"He's your best friend, dude. I bet you anything he wants to hear about them anyway. Besides...you're the only one he can really talk to about what he's going through. It might not be quite like it was before, but it's still better than waiting all the way until the trial to talk about the stuff that really matters, right?"
"Yeah...I guess you're right."
Sam crossed his ankles and downed the rest of the lemonade. "I'm always right."
"Hey, man, you was on the news."
Bucky looked up, feeling as though he'd just woken from a long, troubled sleep—only to find that he was still in the middle of a nightmare. He found himself sitting at a table in the cell block, with only a vague idea of how he'd gotten there from the courthouse.
Korey plopped into the seat across from him. "You really ain't goin' home yet?"
Bucky's heart twisted, and he shook his head. He'd told Korey the day before that he might be leaving, but he shouldn't have bothered. He should have known better.
"Oh." Korey looked like he was trying not to make it obvious that he was relieved. But he'd never been very good at hiding what he truly felt.
They sat in silence for a while, because there was nothing to say. Bucky couldn't decide if he was trying to remember everything that had been said in both of his hearings today, or trying not to think about it. The only thing he really knew was that he was exhausted, and he wanted the day to be over. Or...maybe he just wanted to fall asleep and not wake up...
The relative peace of the afternoon was suddenly broken by the tromp of boots through the door and yells of, "Get down! Everyone on the floor, hands on your head! Now!"
With a curse, Korey threw himself face-first onto the floor, clasping his hands on top of his head. Bucky followed suit a moment later, catching a glimpse of the guards advancing into the cell block, decked out in riot gear. For a desperate second, he wondered what he'd done wrong, but as he peeked over at them, he realized that, for once, they weren't here for him.
The guards appeared to be searching for contraband. Led by Officer Petty, they tore the entire cell block apart from floor to ceiling, searching every crack and crevice for illegal substances, weapons...anything at all that the inmates weren't supposed to have. It was a long, arduous process, and the cold floor became very uncomfortable very quickly. But at least it distracted Bucky from his thoughts.
As they completed the search of each cell, the guards would tap the shoulders of the men it belonged to, letting them get up so they could be locked in for the night. Slowly, the minutes ticked by and the central area began to empty.
Since he wasn't allowed to raise his head, Bucky couldn't tell when they were searching his and Brad's cell. He wondered what would happen when they found Brad's stash. He wasn't sure what exactly Brad had on hand at the moment, but it was fairly safe to assume the guards would find something there that wasn't supposed to be. Would Bucky be considered guilty by association? Or would Brad's insistence that he keep all of his belongings in his own bunk actually come in handy for once?
Since Bucky didn't have a left arm, it wasn't too hard to peek out and watch what was happening around the stairs, which was all he could see from his angle. As the search progressed, a few inmates were cuffed and marched off to the bing, presumably because of contraband found in their cells. To no one's surprise, Brad was one of them. Bucky watched the big man slouching his way down the stairs, holding his cuffed hands awkwardly because of his still-healing arm.
Bucky's enhanced hearing caught a quiet sigh of relief from Korey, and he couldn't deny that his heart lightened a little too. The last thing he wanted to do today was have to deal with Brad.
When Officer Petty approached him, Bucky's heart sank. He was going to the bing too, wasn't he? But when Petty tapped his shoulder, he just barked out, "Get up. Get your stuff. You're moving to 307."
Bucky didn't immediately understand what he meant, but got stiffly to his feet and did as he was told. Petty stayed right behind him; Bucky could feel his scrutiny every step of the way.
Cell 215 was completely ransacked. The bedding had been ripped off both bunks, and bits of paper and trash were everywhere. It was clear at a glance that Brad's 'store' was completely gone. Bucky hastened to gather up his own belongings. He was worried for a moment that they'd taken away the letters Steve had sent him and the pad of paper he used to write to Mabel, but it turned out they'd just been stuffed into his small bag of commissary items.
Finally, with Petty clicking his tongue in impatience at how long it took a one-armed man to gather up his scattered possessions, Bucky managed to get all of his things together. He followed Petty's directions up the stairs to the third level, to an empty cell.
As he clumsily arranged his stuff on the top bunk, Bucky wondered what had prompted the move. Had they finally realized what a recipe for disaster it was for him and Brad to room together? And who was his next cellmate going to be? He doubted he'd get the cell all to himself...
"Get in there, Johnson. Come on, let's go!"
Bucky turned to find none other than Korey standing in the cell, his arms full of bedding. He grinned, his whole face lighting up as he dropped his things on the bottom bunk to give Bucky a fist bump. As soon as the cell door clanged shut behind them, locking them in, Korey said in an excited undertone, "Dude, we cellies now? It's my lucky day!"
Despite himself, Bucky found a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. All anxiety about the move immediately evaporated. Whoever had made the decision to put the two of them in this cell must have realized that the two outcasts would do better together than apart.
"Wait, you ain't givin' me the bottom bunk, are you?" Korey bounced around the tiny room like a little kid, unpacking his stuff in a haphazard, distracted sort of way.
Bucky shrugged. "I'm used to the top by now. Unless you want it?"
Korey hastily shook his head. "Nah, it's just...I ain't never slept on the bottom before. Y'know, it usually goes to guys who been here for ages..."
Bucky stepped up on their little table and deftly swung himself into the top bunk. "You were here before me. That gives you seniority."
Korey snorted and gleefully began making his bed. "You're the senior one here, Grandpa!"
Bucky dangled a leg over the side of the bed and pretended to kick Korey—then quickly pulled it back when Officer Petty banged on their door on his way past, yelling at them to be quiet. Korey sniggered a little when Petty left, but they both fell silent after that.
As Bucky settled down in his bunk, which was no more comfortable than the previous one had been, he listened to Korey moving around below him. He closed his eyes and let his tense shoulders relax, knowing he didn't have to endure either silence or the strained quiet of a cellmate who hated him. It wasn't as good as where he'd been hoping to spend this night, of course...but he still slept better than he had in a long time.
O Lord, how many are my foes!
Many are rising against me;
many are saying of my soul,
"There is no salvation for him in God."
- Psalm 3:1-2