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Hanging By A Threat (breaking point/reluctant caretaker)
***
I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.
The phrase echoes through Bucky’s mind as he jogs through the early morning fog. It’s early, and it’s a Saturday, which means that he pretty much has the entire park to himself as he runs laps around the big lake. The early birds are out getting the worms, singing their songs from the trees. It’s…peaceful.
Bucky’s mind is anything but.
A night full of bad memories and no sleep has him in a bad mood, unable to tune out the surplus of thoughts that he can normally ignore and override on a normal day. He had hoped that going for a run might help clear his head, but so far it’s only given him more time to chew on the barrage of anger and negative feelings that seem to live inside him constantly these days. It’s not like there’s anyone around to share these thoughts with—his mandated therapist doesn’t count, because all Bucky does when he has sessions with her is sit there like a pouty schoolchild while she scribbles in her stupid little notebook until he’s allowed to leave.
He knows that Steve intended for him to stay connected with Sam and the other remaining Avengers after he left. That he didn’t want Bucky to be alone.
Then why did you leave me?
Bucky digs his feet harder into the ground, pushing himself to move faster. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking this way; he and Steve had that hours-long talk about everything before his best friend left to return all of the Infinity Stones. They’d gone over every detail, discussed every angle. Held nothing back, because the two of them didn’t hide things from each other.
Well, at least that’s what Steve thought.
Bucky isn’t the same guy he was back during the early half of the twentieth century. Of course, it wasn’t that he lied to his friend. He just…maybe didn’t tell the whole truth. He felt like he had no right to voice his true feelings and wishes. Because it was selfish, and Steve deserved happiness. He deserved to have that second chance to spend his life with his true love. To have a family, to do all the things he always dreamed of doing. Bucky is fairly certain that if he had asked his friend to stay, he would have returned immediately after returning the Stones, no questions asked.
What Bucky wants doesn’t matter in the end, because he doesn’t deserve it.
Inhale. Exhale. He completes another lap.
So what if Steve’s decision meant that Bucky was left behind to pick up the pieces of his life and move on by himself? It was never Steve’s job to play permanent babysitter. There’s no world where Bucky would ask his friend to choose him over a fulfilling, peaceful life. If there’s anyone who deserves that ending after all he’s given to the world, to others, it’s Steve Rogers.
How many times will he have to reason it out with himself?
The sun is slowly beginning its ascent, lighting up the sky with a myriad of soft colors. The world moves on, blind to the fact that Bucky’s has screeched to a stagnant halt. That he remains stuck wondering what’s next for him—is there anything beyond constant guilt and making reparations for what he did all those years as the Winter Soldier?
Bucky doesn’t know. And he tries not to be bitter about his life, about Steve, and deep down, he doesn’t think he truly is. He’s trying to accept everything that’s happened to him and figure out how to move forward. But yet there are moments that creep up on him, sometimes unexpectedly. Moments where he questions everything. Why did he leave me? What could I have done differently?
Why wasn’t I enough?
These thought patterns aren’t healthy, or at least that’s what Raynor would say. Something needs to change, or it’ll only be a matter of time before he hits his breaking point.
He kind of thinks that he already has.
The thing is, he hates the conflicting thoughts. He hates that he sometimes finds himself angry at Steve, wondering when the end of the line became the end of my line and why the man went through all that trouble to save him—including turning on one of his good friends and getting a bunch of others arrested—when he was eventually just going to leave him behind anyway. What was the point?
Bucky lets his frustration out in a growl as he finally slows to a stop, sweat dripping down his forehead. He drops onto one of those little park benches close by the lake’s edge and just stares blankly across the water, stewing in his thoughts and that feeling of isolation that continues to wrap itself around him. Maybe it’s partly his own doing. Sam still texts him every now and again—probably feels like he owes it to Steve to keep in touch. Although there’s no way the guy feels like he owes Steve that much, considering he got rid of the shield first chance he got. That’s a whole can of worms he’s hardly even begun to open yet.
“Quack .”
Bucky blinks, glancing downward. The source of the sound sits at his feet, staring up at him with curious little eyes.
Bucky silently lifts an eyebrow at the unexpected guest. The yellow and brown duckling continues to sit there.
“Hey,” he finally says.
The duckling quacks back at him.
“Where’s your family, huh?” Bucky gives the surrounding area a cursory glance, but there’s no sign of any other ducks in the general vicinity. He wonders where it came from.
The creature gives him another pitiful quack and fluffs its fuzz.
Bucky debates reaching down and touching the little creature, but he doesn’t remember if you’re supposed to pick up a wild baby animal. He figures his best bet is to just leave it alone, let it find its way back to the lake a few short feet away.
He presses his hands on his thighs and pushes himself to a standing position, turning to walk away.
“Quack quack!”
Bucky glances back over his shoulder to see the duckling nearly tripping over its own webbed feet as it rushes after him with little waddling steps. He sighs. “Really? You’re gonna follow me now, is that it?” He tries walking a little further, but the duckling chases after him.
“Stop following me,” he says, as if it can understand him. He searches around a bit more, but aside from a few ducks swimming on the far side of the lake, there’s no sign of any other ducklings around.
The duckling lets out a series of quacks and runs in a little circle. It’s then that Bucky notices the odd angle of one of the creature’s tiny wings. He frowns.
Bucky has never been one to sit around and watch someone else suffer. He always was an animal-person anyway—never one to pass up a stray dog on the street without giving it a pat or a few extra scraps if he happened to have any. So there’s no way that he can just leave this abandoned, defenseless little animal to fend for itself.
Bucky tells himself he isn’t prepared to take in an injured baby duck. He’s barely capable of taking care of himself , for goodness’ sake. He doesn’t know how to set a wing, especially one so small. He tells himself all of that over and over again—even as he reluctantly scoops the duckling up and makes his way back to his apartment.
It snuggles up in the crook of his elbow immediately, quieting down and closing its eyes. “Cute” isn’t a word near the top of Bucky’s vocabulary, but he’s not going to lie—it is kind of cute.
“Don’t get used to this,” he warns. “I’m finding the nearest wildlife sanctuary and dropping you off there.”
Unfortunately, it’s just his luck that it’s the weekend, and a quick online search reveals that there are no rehabilitation facilities nearby that are open or able to take the duckling in until Monday. So naturally, it falls to Bucky to research how to set a broken duck wing and care for said duck, since he’s apparently going to be stuck as the caretaker for this thing for the next day and a half.
After he immobilizes the wing as best he can with supplies he digs up in his near-empty apartment, he tries to put the duckling in a small cardboard box with a blanket and a bowl of water. However, the little duck does not take to kindly to its new confinement; it lets out a series of desperate quacks that make it sound like a murder is occurring unless Bucky is within its line of vision, meaning that Bucky is forced to let it follow right at his heels for the remainder of the afternoon. He doesn’t know how or why the stupid little bird imprinted the title of “mama” on him—of all people—but it is decidedly attached and there’s not much he can do about it.
“Okay, Duck,” he says, deciding the simple name is as good as any. It stares up at him expectantly. “Preemptive warning, if you leave any surprises on my floor, you and I are going to have a very long talk.”
Duck lets out a long quack.
The rest of the day is spent doing—well, not much, really. Bucky can’t leave the duckling alone, not if he doesn’t want his landlord to show up at his door with a list of noise complaints from his neighbors. It’s not like he has a big to-do list or anything anyway.
He tries calling a few other wildlife places further out, but still no luck. Seems like he’s stuck with Duck for now. Which he can’t exactly complain about—as long as he’s right next to Bucky, Duck is a perfectly well-behaved guest. Plus, it’s something to distract him from the buzz of bad thoughts that clutter his mind.
They eat lunch together, and then they spend most of the day watching TV—or rather, Bucky watches TV while Duck races back and forth on the floor in front of him like a tiny speed demon, letting out happy little sounds every so often. He has no clue where such a small creature stores so much energy, but as long as Duck is content, everything is fine.
He has to remind himself not to get attached. It won’t be long before Duck is being cared for by professionals and set back out into the wild. The duckling isn’t staying—just like everyone else in Bucky’s life.
He thinks that maybe it’s time to start accepting that fact.
***
The giant featherless duck is a little strange.
Duck continues to trail him around for the remainder of the day, but the odd creature doesn’t do anything very interesting—except at one point, he puts Duck in a small tub filled with water, which is fun to splash around in.
His wing feels a lot better now, although whatever is wrapped around it is a little itchy. His belly is full after Big Duck provided him with some tasty snacks.
Despite all of the good things that have happened today, there is something bothersome going on, too. Big Duck seems a little sad. Not quacking much. His language is different. He says stuff to Duck like “you’re kind of cute, you know” and “I know how it feels to be left behind.” Duck can only quack sadly in response, unsure how to make his friend feel better.
Eventually, everything starts to get dark, and Duck knows that it’s time to go to sleep. He’s had a long day, and he’s already drifting off. He can’t even protest when he is dropped off in that annoying walled prison that keeps him away from his friend. He sleeps for a while, exhausted from being alone out by the lake and running around after Big Duck most of the day.
However, it isn’t long before he wakes up and decides it’s high time that he sees his friend again.
“Quack, quack, quack!” he demands, fluttering his good wing and waiting for the attention he craves.
Thankfully, his friend appears only moments later, the—feathers?—on the top of his head all ruffled and silly. Duck quacks again.
“You are seriously the most annoying creature I have ever met,” he grumbles. “...except for maybe Sam.”
Duck doesn’t know what he’s going on about, but what matters is that he picks Duck up and carries him over to where he must have been sleeping. This place is much more comfortable, with soft fuzzy things that remind Duck of his old nest. He immediately snuggles up next to Big Duck, already falling back asleep. He could get used to this.
It isn’t all that long later that Big Duck starts making some odd noises. Duck startles awake at the whimpering sounds, watching as the bigger creature’s chest heaves, quick, distressed gasps leaving his mouth.
This is not good. Duck lets out a little alarmed quack, rushing up to his friend’s face in a flurry and nudging him with his beak. Wake up, wake up!
Big Duck’s eyes snap open suddenly, and a shudder runs through his entire body. He blinks for a few seconds, his gaze settling on Duck’s, mere centimeters from his face.
It’s quiet for a few moments, save for the sound of labored breathing. Then Big Duck whispers, “Th—thanks, buddy.” He reaches out and strokes Duck softly over his head and down his back, which feels nice.
Satisfied that his friend is okay, Duck settles back down, nuzzling his beak against Big Duck’s face in a comforting gesture.
Big Duck makes another weird noise, but this one sounds a little happier. He curls one of his featherless wings around Duck, and they both fall back into a restful, dreamless sleep.
***
Bucky definitely didn’t think he’d be sad to see the needy little duckling go, but by the time Monday morning rolls around, he finds himself questioning if it’s really necessary for him to bring Duck to the wildlife center. He knows that it’s important that the duckling gets actual veterinarian care to make sure his wing heals properly—and that it’s able to eventually be rereleased. Plus, he can’t keep a pet long-term, at least not until he gets his life together.
Still, even knowing all that—and looking up reviews and choosing the best wildlife rehabilitation organization in New York—doesn’t make it any easier to go drop Duck off. He’d somehow gone from reluctant caretaker to pet parent in a matter of hours—not that he’d admit it out loud to anyone.
The duckling sits in his lap the entire drive there, keeping up a continued monologue of quacks. It’s more entertaining than annoying.
Things move quickly once they arrive, and the lady who meets them at the facility is extremely kind and informative. When she notices the obvious connection between the two, she lets Bucky know that he’s welcome to come by and visit whenever he wants.
Soon enough, Bucky is setting the duckling on the counter, ready to hand it over the staff.
Duck quacks, not unhappily, as the lady—Cynthia—reaches a hand out and pets it gently.
One corner of Bucky’s mouth turns upward in a half-smile. “Bye, buddy,” he says.
He’s about to turn to walk out the door when Duck lets out a sudden quack. The little duckling races back across the counter to where Bucky stands and nuzzles his face against Bucky’s hand.
“Yeah, you’re not so bad, yourself.” Bucky pats his new friend one last time. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
Duck quacks.
Bucky leaves, trying to ignore the way his heart squeezes as he exits the building.
Sometimes letting go is hard, but at the end of the day, it’s for the best. Duck will get the chance to heal and then go out and live his best life.
Bucky hopes that maybe one day, the same will be true for him, too.