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Something was still in there. Bucky wanted to make sure that thing was sealed, buried deep inside. But there were times when he felt like the thing was trying to claw its way out. Sometimes quietly, but often like loud bangs on the door, like how it was right now.
There was a woman before him, frowning, tears falling down her cheeks. The gentle smile she had given him just a minute ago disappeared into screams of agony, cursing him with full rage - but he deserved it anyway.
Making Amends.
Dr. Raynor had said that this would make him feel better. No. It felt way worse. He didn't want to make amends. All he wanted was to close his eyes and run from this, run from the clear proof of his sins, from all the guilt that was slowly creeping up his body, making it hard to breathe. He felt like shit.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. He had believed that what he had done was for the greater good. It had always been for HYDRA: his family, home, his pride. HYDRA had been his both his nightmare and safety, the place where he could feel small in a good way. He had been there to make history, to deliver God's gift to humanity. In exchange, HYDRA had sheltered him and had borne the guilt and responsibility he hadn't had to. Now they were gone, no one there to reassure him anymore. But Lord, missing them made him sick. How he despised them but also himself.
He let the woman shove him out of the house, as though she was the enhanced one. The bang on the door felt like a slap. Perhaps that was what he needed, a good slap, a punishment. At least he had always known that when the punishment had been over, he had been finally forgiven. He could start over. It had never been quite like this.
That thing that was still in there whispered. "Let go," it said. "We can go back. Not everything is gone."
.
He found himself breaking Zemo back out of prison again.
"I thought you'd be here sooner." The younger man smiled, repeating what he had said at Sokovian Memorial like he had been waiting - as he had known - like that had been a part of his manipulation plan - yet Bucky couldn't bring himself to care. At this moment, this one action alone made sense.
.
They ran away together, a terrorist and an assassin, they didn't need the world to see. Bucky never told Zemo the reason he had broken him out; and Zemo never asked, yet surely understood what was asked of him: someone who knew what to do, someone who guided, someone to blame. Zemo played his role to perfection and never asked for anything in return but a companion to drink some tea together.
That it is, Bucky thought. This works. One solution to keep the thing quiet in its tomb, knowing that he was safe under a shelter. Enough to keep the thing at bay, but one that didn't restrain him completely. He could break a neck if Zemo tried to be funny with him.
That was until he found out about Hydra's reemergence. The thing inside shrieked, swirling like a hurricane and it scared him.
.
“No,” Bucky said, on a balcony, staring at the dark sky where there were no stars, only wind that made rustling twigs. Leaning on the banisters with a cigarette to calm him down, not that it did anything, but he liked to pretend. “I can’t let them have me.”
“Then be mine completely,” Zemo offered.
Bucky turned his head and their gaze met.
That was bold coming out of the Baron, but in Bucky’s fucked mind it didn’t sound as bad as he wanted it to be. He knew Zemo would do anything to keep him, his pet psychopath, if only to spite Hydra. In the most disturbing way, he was certain that he would be safe under Zemo's wings.
Zemo closed their distance, mouth to mouth they shared the smokes - the unspoken “Yes.”
.
.
.
Back he was to his gear stained 'black' with blood, and he kept killing, killing, and killing. But killing had never felt this good, to be useful again with his favorite handler on his side, and the Hydra scumbags below his feet.
Weeks passed, months passed, seasons flew, and he came to realize that he could not think of life more relieving than this: giving himself to Zemo, surrendering all his fears to him.
.
Bucky hadn’t thought it would come to this: Zemo asked him to sit down one time, after their last mission, voice as soothing as ever but it was different. “We have made sure Hydra can’t come back to life, Soldat, or should I say ‘James’? Here I give you a choice. You can have your freedom now.”
He had subconsciously been expecting Zemo to keep him even after everything was over. Why wouldn’t he? Bucky was a perfect soldier, an efficient weapon. Was he not good enough? Worse, inconvenience?
No, Sir. Please, don’t throw me away. I will be better. I like this, I like being with you, I like us. He thought desperately but did not dare to say. Panic crept over him. The dismissal felt like pain pierced through his heart, and he realized that he had fallen too deep.
To his relief, Zemo nodded. “I know, Soldat. I knew you would want to stay,” he claimed, so sure of himself as if that had been a part of his plan.
Still, Bucky couldn't bring himself to care.
All he knew that he was happy.