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Opening Arguments
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A noose was fashioned in the air, and slowly it was being slipped around T’Challa’s neck. This wasn’t a fair comparison, he thought, considering of course it wasn’t he who was on trial. But nevertheless, he could feel the trap, and had since first stepping off the plane and being escorted, or really, transported, to Stark Tower, where James was permitted to stay for the duration of the proceedings. Something was afoot; nothing felt fair despite them complying with the legal guidelines.
‘’How do you think this is going to go?’’ Shuri’s voice rang in T’Challa’s head as he readied himself for the day. The sun had yet to rise. He’d been up for hours. But anything was better than sitting around staring at the wall, wondering what was to become of James.
Shuri was furious at the all too common viewpoint of James Barnes being thought of as the Winter Solider without taking into account his captivity, not to mention the force HYRDA had had to use to warp him into the warrior in the first place. Her anger had only grown with the extensive media coverage as all the trial details fell into place. Really, it was a miracle she had not marched onto the plane with him and James. She had fully intended to do so, T’Challa knew, recalling all their countless arguments about it, her insisting she ‘’has as much right as you to go. Don’t boss me around, cat-boy.’’ It was finally James who got her to relent.
It had been a simple request; ‘’Shuri, please.’’
Sometimes, the way Shuri would respond to James bothered T’Challa, the clear delineation of the types of respect she held for them. He couldn’t feel that in this case. James didn’t want Shuri there not only to not witness firsthand the evidence compiled against him- which she would see anyway, through the news-, but also to not witness when (If, T’Challa corrected himself furiously), he was condemned.
Because those were the options. Unless the government had constructed a new underwater prison with a location untraceable for one Steve Rogers, James Barnes would not live long after a guilty sentence.
This fact had laid between the three of them as an open secret. And so, Shuri remained in Wakanda as T’Challa and their White Wolf traveled to the United States. One way or another, only one of them would return.
T’Challa studied himself in the mirror. He was clothed in a western suit, crisp and black, tie impeccably knotted at his throat. Who invented ties? Was it lawyers who wanted a quick way to hang themselves should they fail a case?
He breathed heavily. He did not look away from the mirror until he was sure his face betrayed none of the nervousness he felt.
T’Challa exited the room as night light finally gave way to day through his windows. Tony Stark had generously bequeathed an entire room to him- a room being a two bedroom apartment complete with attached bathrooms and spacious living area. Given what he knew of New York real estate, it was quite impressive. It would be even more so with all the touches of modern technology he knew Tony installed throughout, but such adaptations T’Challa had requested turned off. The applications of technology Wakanda employed in the daily life differed greatly from the personal style of Tony Stark, and James did best with less.
Sitting in the living room already was James. T’Challa wasn’t surprised. He’d barely slept. He could only imagine how James had been whittling the hours away.
He wanted to wish good morning, but considering it was far from it, both in the literal and metaphorical sense, any sort of greeting died on his lips. Instead, they nodded to each other, and T’Challa was momentarily frozen in the doorway to the kitchen, wondering if he dared give into his craving for those special iced coffees he knew Tony kept stocked.
He turned to ask James if he wanted anything, but paused when he saw the man’s face; he wasn’t looking at him, or at anything really. Just staring off into the distance. He’d done that a lot in the earlier days of being out of cryo. Not so much recently.
And the noose tightens.
‘’Are you okay?’’ T’Challa asked. His voice was loud in the quiet morning, made even louder by the stupidness of the question.
James’ eyes finally found him. ‘’Yeah.’’ The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘’Big day.’’
T’Challa noticed that, while already dressed in a suit similar to his own, the collar was gapping and his tie was laying across his neck. ‘’May I offer a hand?’’
Now James did smile, and though it didn’t reach his eyes, it made the tightness in T’Challa loosen ever so slightly. ‘’I am down one, so yes, please.’’
T’Challa sat next to him. He brushed against his empty sleeve. They’d left his prosthetic back in Wakanda. Well, the new one Shuri had constructed. What was left of the old one had been requestioned by the court months ago.
T’Challa fumbled with the tie. The formal wear of his country was so much simpler. Not to mention tying one’s own tie was quite a different process to tying another's. He frowned at the crookedness of the finished product. ‘’What is the saying? Second time is the charm?’’ He said as he undid it.
James kept his chin up as T’Challa continued. ‘’You don’t have to stay for this.’’
His voice was so quiet, his mouth barely moved, that T’Challa really only noticed he was speaking due to the bob of his throat as he adjusted the tie. He remembered his face in the mirror, the false calm. He did his best to maintain that expression. ‘’I am a king,’’ he reminded James, eyes flicking to him for a moment. ‘’I do not have to do anything I do not want to. I utilize that to my advantage far more than I should. So…’’ he let go of the tie, studying it. ‘’That should illustrate to you as to my reasons for still being here.’’
They stared at each other a moment, James’ hardened face looking into T’Challa’s worried one. He bowed his head. ‘’Thank you.’’
‘’I stand by my people.’’ The White Wolf had done too much for his family for him to abandoned him now, in this crucial hour.
T’Challa looked at the tie and felt frustration build. He removed it again with a sigh. ‘’It is actually the fifteenth try that makes it perfect,’’ he said, tapping his own tie knowingly.
James chuckled at that.
…
The problem with mankind, Steve thought, was that they always wanted to go faster. First riding animals, constructing boats, trains, and making every adjustment to cars imaginable. His first days in the modern age he’d thought they’d achieved it, what with the plethora of cars he saw and the speeds they went at. But now, he decided it still wasn’t fast enough. ‘’Sam, seriously.’’
‘’Going the speed limit, Steve,’’ Sam replied.
‘’The speed limit’s only a suggestion. You can get away with, say, ten, twenty miles over.’’
‘’Ooh, is Captain America egging me to break a law?’’
‘’Work within the constraints of the law,’’ Steve corrected.
‘’Yeah, cause that’s you. A real rule follower.’’
‘’When the rules make sense. And going faster-‘’
‘’We will get there in time.’’
Steve gave a theatrical wave out the window. ’’Bye, grandma, bye.’’
If he’d been hoping to get a rise out of Sam, he was disappointed. ‘’We will get there in time,’’ he repeated.
Steve adjusted his fingers on the latch on the car roof. He was gripping it not from Sam’s speed (he wished), but because it gave him something to do, something to hang onto, dig his fingers in, and distract him from the growing pressure in his chest as the night gave way to day and the ever closer time of reckoning drew nearer.
Bucky’s Trial was officially mere hours away.
He was supposed to be back at Stark Tower already. A week ago was when they first came back, and he and Tony had gotten the awkwardness of their first in-person meeting since everything that happened out of the way. Then there was just waiting for Bucky to arrive from Wakanda. He hadn’t even wanted to take the mission they’d just been on, but Sam had needed backup, and really it had been something to do that wasn’t simply pacing and cursing HYDRA and SHEILD and everyone else who had ever lied to him and gotten Bucky into this situation.
Besides, Steve had to admit, sometimes it was nice to simply punch a bunch of bad guys in the face. Especially when he was restricted from punching the people he really wanted to hurt.
Sam made a turn then, approaching an Exit sign Steve didn’t recognize. ‘’This isn’t right.’’
‘’Yes it is.’’
No. No one was lying to him today. ‘’Sam, this isn’t the right way.’’
‘’I know where I’m going, Rogers.’’
‘’I was born in the 1900’s, Sam. Not yesterday. Where the hell are you taking me?’’
‘’We’re going to Stark Tower.’’
‘’Sam!’’ Steve glanced wildly at the GPS in the car; the exit they turned onto added another hour to their route. ‘’We’re going to be late.’’
The silence from the driver told him that that was the point.
‘’Go back,’’ Steve ordered.
‘’Making a U-turn mid highway right now,’’ Sam said while definitely not doing that.
‘’What the hell is your problem?’’
‘’I don’t have a problem. We’ll be late. Deal with it.’’
‘’Deal with it? Bucky’s on trial and you want me to deal with it?’’
‘’You have another option?’’
‘’I will get out of this car,’’ Steve threatened.
‘’You’re why they invented child locks.’’ For emphasis, he clicked a button that echoed throughout the car.
‘’Like that will stop me.’’
‘’You can either shut up and get there tonight, or hitkchick and make it in about three days. What’s your choice?’’
‘’Why are you doing this? I need to be there-!’’
‘’No you don’t!’’ Sam shouted over Steve’s protests. ‘’You don’t need to be there for the opening arguments, okay? No one does. You don’t need to hear how that bitch assed lawyer is going to spell out why Bucky’s a problem. Because if you hear that you will kill him and then we’ll have to do this all over again.’’
‘’Bucky needs me there.’’
‘’No, Bucky needs you here.’’
‘’How would you-‘’
‘’Because he asked me,’’ Sam snapped.
Steve clamped his jaw shut. Bucky, reaching out to Sam, specifically asking him to keep Steve away. Asking him not to be there. Not wanting him there.
Sam seemed to read his thoughts. ‘’He doesn’t want you to hear the opening arguments,’’ he said, his voice softer compared to their previous shouting. ‘’Hell, I think it’s safe to say he doesn’t want to hear them either. This is going to get ugly, Steve, we both know it. He does need you there, but not today. Let him have this.’’
Steve glared at Sam. He kept his attention on the road, but it was more pointed than it had to be. There was nothing to say, and so Steve kept quiet, finally turning to the window and tightening his grip on the handle above him. He could feel his fingers tingling from lack of blood flow. It was almost enough to loosen the ever growing anger building in his chest.
Sam must’ve found the silence unnerving. ‘’I know… I know this is hard.’’
‘’No you don’t.’’ The statement did not invite further comment. Sam didn’t know how hard this was and Steve was glad for him. No one should know what this was like for Bucky. What this was like for him.
Sam’s voice was a whisper. ‘’Steve.’’
Not for the first time, Steve wondered, what with his penchant for healing quickly, what it would be like to cause himself some minor injury and how long it would take to right itself. Nothing major. Just to snap his fingers or yank a tooth from his head. Anything that would serve to curb the fury that was clouding his mind.
‘’When I woke up…’’ Those first days, coming out of the ice… The memory wanted to cut him from the inside out, as if there were an icicle still within him that had not yet melted. ‘’When I woke up and they told me what had happened, how I nose dived into the Atlantic, been frozen for 70 years… all I could think was, ‘I could have saved him’. If I survived that, I could’ve survived jumping after Bucky when he fell from that train.’’
Sam was quiet, perhaps absorbing what Steve meant from that statement; saving Bucky in that moment would’ve saved him from HYDRA, from ever becoming the Winter Solider. It wasn’t a complete save. God only knows the preliminary experiments Zola had done on him back in that base.
‘’His whole life,’’ Steve went on, ‘’He’s looked out for me. And now…god, this is my chance to do that for him. Yet he’s still worried about me, having you essentially kidnap me so I don’t have to hear whatever crap they are going to spout.’’
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. In his mind’s eye, he could still see Bucky, his Bucky. The Bucky before HYDRA got to him, before the war got him; Cocky, smiling, hair combed back and a book under his arm, rolling his eyes and swearing at his sisters and Steve both.
Sam let out a sigh of his own. ‘’You can’t possibly think that he blames you. That any of this could be construed as your fault.’’
Steve scoffed at the disbelief Sam was trying to keep from his tone. ‘’No,’’ he said, the pristine memory of Bucky’s scream as he fell ringing in his ears, ‘’Of course not.’’
…
It wasn’t the largest courtroom Tony had ever been in. He couldn’t decide if this was due to trying to keep the proceedings as contained as possible or for security purposes. Perhaps there was another reason, because the number of reporters he and Pepper had dodged on the way in certainly was an indicator of failure on those two counts.
Barnes had already been escorted to the courthouse earlier and was now probably in some counsel room somewhere. T’Challa was with him.
Tony could feel Pepper’s hand in his, and it was mostly her doing that navigated them into an appropriate bench. Not right up front, not hiding in the back, but also far enough away to leave should they need to. Should he need to.
One could put any spin on this as they like. For better or for worse, this trial was what he’d dreamed of since he was seventeen years old and he’d opened the door to two police officer informing him of a hit and run. It was the trial of his parents’ murderer.
‘’Howard was our friend.’’ Steve’s voice was as sharp and cold as the ice they’d pulled him from and it played in Tony’s head like a never ending record.
Pepper’s fingers intertwined with his, sensing his growing unease, but in his mind, Tony replayed the events from last week.
Steve, coming back to the tower. They’d behaved themselves, kept the united front they needed to amend the Accords and be the team they’d claimed to be before HYDRA revealed their Winter Solider program. They’d made up, or so Tony thought.
But something had built up in Steve as the newly drawn procedures for legal recourse were enacted for the first time in regards to James Buchanan Barnes. His expression hardened, he went quiet, and it was harder than ever to think of him as America’s Golden Boy and not as the dangerous super solider that he was.
That night, Tony had found him on the balcony right outside the conference room. He went to bring him his shield, all too aware of Rhodey inconspicuously sitting at the table. Clearly either he or Pepper both didn’t yet trust leaving him and Steve alone in the same room.
‘’I guess this is yours.’’ Tony handed the shield to Steve, trying not to dwell on the moment back in Siberia, where Steve had dropped it at his feet without ever looking back. ‘’The blood didn’t stain, in case you were wondering.’’
Steve looked away from the city skyline to Tony. Maybe they’d left some ice in Cap when they pulled him out, because certainly Tony could see some in his gaze. He took the shield with no ceremony, something that Tony assumed spoke to his humbleness, but nevertheless invoked a small spark of rage within himself.
He thought they were done, but before he could walk away, Steve spoke; ‘’Howard was our friend.’’
Depending on how this conversation went, the small spark of rage could be stoked into a full fire. Tony turned back to him. ‘’And?’’
‘’He was our friend,’’ Steve repeated. ‘’Bucky’s friend. Don’t think I don’t hate how he died. Don’t think Bucky doesn’t either.’’
‘’I remember all of them.’’
‘’He’s going on trial,’’ Tony said. ‘’The amended Accords that you wanted say it.’’
‘’I know that.’’
‘’So don’t try and-‘’
‘’And what?’’ Steve’s tone was dangerous.
Inside, Rhodey was no doubt straining to hear what they were saying. ‘’And take it back,’’ Tony finished. ‘’He’s standing trial, whether he likes it or not.’’
Tony supposed he wanted his words to wound, to do some semblance of damage and wipe that stoic look off Steve’s face. It sort of worked, for Steve laughed. A chilling sound.
‘’Whether he likes it or not?’’ He echoed. ‘’Goddamnit, Tony… who do you think convinced me to come here in the first place?’’
So it hadn’t been his idea. Barnes had convinced him. Of course. Too much to hope for Captain America to be reasonable.
‘’If it had been up to you, what would you have done?’’ Tony asked. ‘’Kept running forever? Never come back?’’
‘’I would’ve kept Bucky safe.’’
‘’Because you know he’s guilty. You know he has to pay.’’
‘’Pay for what?’’ Steve took a step towards him. ‘’He was tortured. What would you have had me do? Forget him? Let SHEILD take him out?’’
Forget him. That was what Tony was hoping for with these recent events. Let Steve forget Barnes. Let Barnes be dead like he was supposed to be. Let Steve be who he was before. ’’You could’ve-‘’
‘’You didn’t let me.’’ Steve threw his hands in the air. ‘’I know things spiraled out of control last year, but for fuck’s sake Tony… don’t pretend if it were Rhodey, you wouldn’t have done the exact same things.’’
Tony paled at that; Rhodey, taken by HYDRA. Rhodey, outfitted in that warrior getup meant to restrain rather than equip him. Rhodey, disappearing from him for years.
‘’When Tony went missing,’’ Steve said, addressing Rhodey, who Tony was only now aware of joining them on the balcony, ‘’What wouldn’t you have done to find him? To bring him home?’’
‘’Cap, I get it, I do.’’ Rhodey sounded tired. ‘’What Barnes went through… it wasn’t fair.’’
‘’This isn’t fair,’’ Steve argued. ‘’He gave his life for his country and this is how it repays him. He was never given a choice. From being drafted, from HYDRA-‘’
‘’He enlisted,’’ Tony corrected.
Another chilling scoff from Steve. ‘’No, the best friend of Captain America ‘enlisted’, because that makes a better story to brainwash the next generation with.’’
‘’The best friend of Captain America died,’’ Tony said, ‘’and you’re holding on to his ghost. Even Barnes sees that, which is probably why he agreed to this trial and you didn’t.’’
The look on Steve’s face could not be matched. For the first time, Tony saw a glimpse of the Steve from Sergeant Peggy Carter’s stories instead of the Steve of his father’s stories; small kid from Brooklyn, never running from a fight, especially in the name of what was right. ‘’Captain America didn’t have a best friend,’’ he stated. Then added, ‘’He killed mine, though.’’
He made to brush past him, but not before pushing the shield back against his chest. ‘’Your father made that shield for Steve Rogers. Not for a piece of propaganda.’’
Then he left, leaving Rhodey and Tony in silence. Tony resisted the urge to throw the shield after him, wondering if it would do the damage he wanted it to. All this for one man, one murderer. He was a piece of Steve’s past life, that much Tony knew. But he had a new life now, filled with people who hadn’t been warped into killers and broken beyond repair. Why did Steve care so much?
‘’I don’t trust a guy without a dark side.’’
‘’Well, let’s just say you haven’t seen it yet.’’
…
‘’The United States Government versus James Buchanan Barnes on the counts of actions preformed by HYDRA’s Winter Soldier. Prosecution, you may state your case.’’
There was much to state, estimated kill counts not even the majority. The prosecution outlined his history, his captivity to HYDRA, his involvement with the events of the former Accords. He even got ahead of the defense on his mental state. Bucky had to admit, he was rather eloquent.
Speaking of mental state, there was a part of him dimly aware as he sat, still as a statue in his seat of defense, that he wasn’t quite all here. There was a strange feeling of unrealism that hung over his every interaction. The world was shaky, his grasp on it more so. How was it that he was here, in this city he supposedly was born and raised in, over half a century later, sitting in defense of what HYDRA had made him do? What they did to him?
How was it that he wasn’t even sure what he wanted the outcome to be?
But no, one thing at a time. He had to get through this one step at a time, day by day. It wasn’t much different from being the Winter Solider, ironically enough. He would see what each moment brought, what would be expected of him, what others would determine about his role in life. If there was to be a life for him at all.
‘’-Countless murders enacted…’’
‘’-Years of conditioning…’’
‘’-Request to enter into evidence Exhibit A…’’
Each statement caused him to fold further into himself in his mind. He would betray nothing on his face. Let them think him cold; his demeanor was the only armor he could wear to these proceedings. If they were to treat him as the Winter Solider, let him sit for these conversations as he had so many times when receiving orders. He would be quiet, still, a blank slate so as not to overwhelm or confuse the handlers.
This courtroom was merely another debriefing.
Of course, instead of recalibration, he could very well be seated in a chair of another sort at the end of all this, similar only in the use of electricity.
It was his defense’s turn.
Jennifer Walters was an attorney who had a unique understanding of his position. Or so Bruce Banner had said. She was doing a good job, the Asset thought, as a few key statements registered in him.
‘’Sergeant James Barnes is a name known to many. He was friend to Captain America, served in the Howling Commandos. In fact, he gave his life in service to his country-‘’
‘’-captured by HYDRA-‘’
‘’-Withstood torture for years-‘’
‘’-stopped the other Winter Soldiers-‘’
True, but even he could feel the divide in the room. Was it enough? Did a few good deeds out number the many bad ones? Could they ever?
More items brought into evidence. He watched the formality of them being passed into the hands of the court.
The judge was speaking. Ordering adjournment for tomorrow, where the first testimonies would be called for.
He knew to wait for the handlers before rising. The eager chatter of the room as soon as the gavel banged rang in his ears. More snippets of conversation pricked him; ‘’who will be first?’’ ‘’Don’t you know?’’ ‘’He doesn’t look very remorseful, does he?’’ He was actually glad when the rough hands took him by the elbow and escorted him to the back.
The door closing behind them shut out the noise, but the jingling of keys and other metals hanging on the handlers’ (bailiffs’, he corrected himself) waist brought a stab of panic to his chest. For a moment, the linoleum tile and wooden paneling on the courtroom walls faded to hard rock and stone, the lights cheap and flickering as sharp voices bit orders to him in Russian.
‘’I will escort him from here,’’ said a voice.
The accent was enough to bring him back to the present. The sight of the man’s dark features made a pleasant familiarity arise in him, but his mind took it’s time scrambling for the name.
The bailiffs left them. T’Challa and Bucky walked on along through the back hallways of the courthouse. ‘’There is a car waiting for us,’’ T’Challa said, ‘’Hopefully we will avoid most of the vultures you Americans refer to as your ‘press’.’’ He waited a moment before adding, ‘’Are you okay?’’
Bucky allowed some of his old instincts to kick in; asked a question, answer appropriately. ‘’Fine,’’ he said. ‘’I think it went well, don’t you?’’
T’Challa cast him a wry smile. ‘’If Shuri were here, I do believe she would as of now make a reference to how, in the movies, this would be the time to- how would she say it?- ‘get out of Dodge’?’’
Bucky bit his lip. It definitely wouldn’t help his case if anyone heard him laughing moments after the opening arguments. ‘’She probably would.’’
‘’And what would you say to it?’’
It was a joke. Bucky knew that. Yet he also knew the king of Wakanda had one weakness, and that was that he would go above and beyond for those he held closest to him. When Bucky made the cut on that list, he wasn’t sure. But while the subject of the current court proceedings was up in the air, he knew he wasn’t deserving of anymore of T’Challa’s mercy. No matter how the wounded boy from Brooklyn inside of him longed to finally grasp onto safety.
Bucky clasped T’Challa’s shoulder. ‘’We better not keep Ayo waiting,’’ he answered.
‘’You already have,’’ came her voice from T’Challa’s other side. Soon she was in view, walking seamlessly beside them. Both he and Bucky were far too used to this to be surprised. ‘’I do not wish to linger here. Hurry up, the both of you.’’
T’Challa gave an exasperated, put upon sigh without bothering to remove his smile. His pace took him a few steps ahead of them which allowed Bucky a moment to meet Ayo’s gaze. The woman never failed to look as if she had wisdom out of reach of all of them, and her eyes told him she had heard T’Challa’s statement and his lack of reply. There was respect for him there, but also… fear.
Bucky wondered if she knew better than he did what not running meant for him. For his future, or really, lack of one.
They made it outside. Despite hopes, the press found them, and it was through much bustle and jostling that saw them safely in the car and on the way back to Stark Tower. Photographers desperate to make the front page snapped thousands of photos as their partners shouted questions and shoved microphones in their faces. It was a short walk to the car, yet it seemed to take a lifetime.
Make them stop, the factual voice of the Winter Soldier purred within him, They are interfering in the mission. Remove the interference.
Bucky bit his tongue. He forced himself to focus on the chaos even as the chatter and incessant clicking of cameras threatened to overwhelm him. The flashing of shutters was making spots dance in his eyes. His head was pounding. He was going to pass out, he couldn’t breath, he could hear the goddamn words-
They made into the car. Security on the outside waved the crowds away enough for the driver to navigate to the street. ‘’To call them vultures is offensive to vultures,’’ T’Challa decided in a mutter.
Nothing else was said for the duration of the ride. Bucky kept the palm of his hands pressed to his forehead, shielding his eyes and acting as a counter pressure to the drilling sensation that was currently building in his head.
Oh, that was a bad comparison….
It did not get better even in the dark car with its tinted windows. And they had another hurdle to overcome when they arrived at Stark Tower and were greeted by more crowds lurking around. By the time they actually entered the building and he and T’Challa were back in their quarters, Bucky would have been content to be led to the gallows so long as the promise of being relieved of pain was kept.
He went to his room without a word. T’Challa did not press. The darkness from the blackout curtains that apparently equipped every room of Tony Stark’s was a blessing, but the fear of not being able to see out the windows tore at Bucky. With gritted teeth, he yanked each one open.
The pressure behind his eyes was close to bursting.
In retreat, he crawled under the bed, both for it’s darkness and security. Without his arm, he was down a weapon, but in the event someone did break in, they wouldn’t spot him immediately. He could roll out, snatch the lamp by the bedside table and hurl it as a distraction. He could escape through the window, or better yet, tackle the assailant out it.
Hours passed with him still and cramped under the bed. He tried not to think, to move, to do anything that would worsen the pounding ache in his head. Being completely still allowed the pain to isolate to one side of his head. Unfortunately, it was the side he wasn’t laying on, but he knew if he turned his head now it would only send a fresh rush of blood and pain through him.
A fleeting memory poked him of that rare time he had come to think of as In-between in his life; after being drafted, but before HYDRA, when Steve rescued him and the 107 from their imprisonment. He didn’t remember much, but he did remember wondering what it was exactly Zola had done to him, and why it was causing him to have seizures.
The pain in his head made him wonder if he was going to have one now.
A different sort of ache arose in him then, not of pain, but of longing. Like the Winter Soldier in him had wanted to fight, the Drafted Soldier in him wanted to run. To go. To hide like he was right now under this bed, but somewhere no one could find him. Another country, another apartment like he had in Romania. He did it before, disappearing off the grid. He could again. He wouldn’t be a burden to anyone then. T’Challa, Shuri, Steve-
Steve.
And there was his problem, just as he’d been when he had been 90 pounds of righteous anger and poor impulse control. He could run if it weren’t for him. If it weren’t for the tie to this James Buchanan Barnes he’d been Before. He was someone born in the 1900’s who was completely and utterly alone except for Steve. He loved T’Challa, he loved Shuri. Words could not express all they had done for him. But Steve…. Steve was proof of who he had been. Who he could be again. Steve was his.
He’d lost everything. But Steve… he couldn’t lose him.
Though of course, the argument could be made Steve would be better off without him.
Sleep came after many more hours of still and silent fretting. Bucky was only aware it had occurred when he awoke, disorientation from the lack of pain clouding his mind. When he emerged from under the bed, no longer afraid, he saw something else had changed in the room. He was no longer alone. Sitting in the doorway, his back to the frame, head bent in sleep, was Steve.
…
Testimony
…
Natasha was dressing for battle.
That’s what it was at it’s core. The courtroom was a battle and today she was being sent in as general. Not the hardest job she’d ever done, but perhaps the most personal.
This wasn’t just about Barnes. This was about her, the Red Room, the Winter Soldier program, and everyone who had ever touched HYDRA and consequently helped them. This was A Judgement Day. Perhaps not The Judgement Day; Natasha had long ago abandoned the hope justice for herself and the other experiments. But something would come of this, and she was determined for it to be something good, a victory for the small portion of them who had made it out of HYDRA alive.
Clint walked on one side of her, Laura on the other. Both of them had come ready for battle too, clothed in what do an untrained eye looked like formal wear. But Natasha could see the ease of the garments, perfect for moving unencumbered in. And unless she was very much mistaken, the braid Laura wore in her hair had bow strings woven into it. Where the bows they belonged to were stashed, she hadn’t the faintest idea. Knowing Clint, she’d place money on the vents.
As they made their way to their seats, Natasha fought the urge to sweep the room in search of Yelena. The last time they’d spoken, she’d made clear her pessimistic point of view about how these proceedings were going to end and how that reflected on the government’s view of HYDRA’s experiments, specifically, themselves. Even so, Natasha knew if she were not here, she was listening closely to the news coverage.
There was something grating at Natasha. And that was she couldn’t determine the exact plan of her enemy. Namely, the prosecution.
Because, in irony or cold calculation, she was technically the prosecution’s witness. It was he who called her, he who prepped her. The questions he asked she had anticipated. As a cold calculating planner herself, Natasha thought she glimpsed his strategy.
He called her as a witness to have control on prepping her, and then hand her over to the defense. And by letting the defense ask questions, he couldn’t get any blame for how he would twist her words. Nor could he alert her to exactly how he would do that so she could give them a heads up. It was a good plan. Natasha would enjoy ruining it.
Because she would. She was not going to help end Barnes.
The prosecution asked the questions just as they’d rehearsed; her name, her connection to HYDRA, SHEILD, the missions she’d undertaken with Barnes.
It was Walters turn. ‘’Ms. Romanov, you said you’ve worked with Sergeant Barnes in recent years. This was after his escape from HYDRA?’’
‘’Yes.’’
‘’What kind of work did you complete together?’’
‘’We worked together on destroying several of HYDRA’s outlying posts.’’
‘’Were these mission successful?’’
‘’Yes, very.’’
‘’James Barnes is not a SHEILD agent. How is it that you shared information with someone who, at that time, was a wanted fugitive?’’
‘’I didn’t share information. He gave the information to me.’’
‘’And you trusted it?’’
‘’Yes, I did.’’
‘’Why? Did you not consider that perhaps it was a trap? That he was still under HYDRA’s control?’’
‘’I knew the Winter Soldier. He might wear Sergeant Barnes’ face, but he is far from him.’’
Walters nodded. ‘’No further questions.’’
As Natasha predicted, the prosecutor rose anew. ‘’You knew the Winter Soldier, Ms. Romanov?’’
‘’Yes.’’
‘’How?’’
‘’We were both experiments of HYDRA. There was… overlap.’’
‘’Overlap… You were of HYDRA’s Red Room program, is that correct?’’
‘’Yes.’’
‘’And Sergeant Barnes was of the Winter Soldier program?’’
‘’Yes.’’
‘’In your own words, Ms. Romanov, what is the biggest difference between these two programs?’’
‘’Objection,’’ Walters said, ‘’The witnesses is not an expert on HYDRA and their various institutions.’’
‘’Isn’t she?’’ The prosecutor asked with innocence. ‘’She herself was under such conditions as the defendant, admitted to working with him several times before and after his imprisonment. You don’t think that qualifies her as an expert?’’
‘’You are asking her opinion.’’
‘’Her objective opinion. I think we can all agree Ms. Romanov is an objective person, no?’’
It was an attack waiting to strike. Natasha tensed in preparation.
‘’That’s enough, councilor,’’ the judge growled at the prosecutor. ‘’Overruled, Ms. Walters. Proceed.’’
‘’Ms. Romanov,’’ the prosecutor continued, ‘’What is the difference between these two programs?’’
‘’I suppose you mean besides the obvious? That the Red Room was all little girls?’’
Natasha took pleasure in the prosecutor’s thin, unamused smile. ‘’Yes. What was the objective of these programs?’’
‘’Besides aiding HYDRA’s goal of world domination?’’ Natasha folded her arms. ‘’In the Red Room, we were trained to become assassins. To be light on our feet, to blend into society, to go unnoticed and collect information and kill the targets we were assigned.’’
‘’And the aims of the Winter Soldier program?’’
‘’To create super soldiers.’’
‘’Who would do what?’’
‘’Kill. Lead armies.’’
‘’How were they different from the Red Room?’’
Natasha knew what he wanted her to say. She was glad when Walters stood again. ‘’Objection. Witness has already answered.’’
‘’Sustained,’’ said the judge. ‘’Councilor, move on.’’
‘’Ms. Romanov, you’ve said the super soldiers were created to kill. You’ve said those of the Red Room such as yourself were created to kill. I assume HYDRA wasn’t being redundant. You worked with the Winter Soldier while in HYDRA’s power. What are the differences between you that made the paring of you necessary?’’
‘’Objection. Witness is being asked to relate the rationale of another person.’’
‘’I’ll allow it,’’ the judge said. ‘’The witness will answer.’’
Natasha kept her gaze hard. ‘’I suppose it was a perceived difference in styles.’’
‘’In what way?’’ The prosecutor asked. ‘’You described you both as meant to kill. Both as assassins. Or is that not correct?’’
‘’No, it is.’’
‘’Then what were the differences in duties when you were paired up?’’
‘’I would do recon. I would find an in with the people in charge. Know how to blend in.’’
‘’And the Winter Soldier wouldn’t?’’
‘’No.’’
‘’Why?’’
‘’I don’t know.’’
‘’No? Is it perhaps the jobs you listed require a certain amount of reasoning, calculation? And the Winter Soldier, for all his power, was not meant to be a free agent?’’
‘’Objection. Prosecution is answering for the witness.’’
‘’Withdrawn,’’ the prosecutor said before the judge could speak. ‘’On these missions, Ms. Romanov, was the Winter Soldier ever left alone?’’
‘’Objection. Relevance?’’
‘’If HYDRA did not trust their own soldier, then how are we expected to do the same?’’
‘’Objection!’’
The judge’s gavel echoed over the protests from the entire court. ‘’I will have order,’’ he stated. ‘’The question is permitted, but let your witness answer, councilor.’’
The prosecutor nodded and turned back to Natasha expectantly.
She bit out the answer with reluctance. ‘’No, he was not left alone.’’
‘’Why was this?’’
She could lie. Because they feared his escape. Because they didn’t trust him to not sabotage the mission. But to do that ran the risk of making it seem like Barnes could’ve escaped years ago, adding to the prosecution’s side rather than going against it. Her opponent was smarter than he looked.
Natasha forced out the truth. ‘’Because he lacked finesse. If things went wrong, improv and cover up wasn’t the soldier’s strong suit.’’
‘’But it was yours? And the rest of the Red Room?’’
‘’We were trained as such.’’
‘’In what? Logic? Reasoning?’’
‘’Yes,’’ Natasha answered before Walters could object again. She knew when they were beat.
‘’Which one, Ms. Romanov?’’
‘’Both.’’
‘’And the Soldier wasn’t?’’
‘’No. He-‘’
‘’He what?’’ The prosecutor pounced. ‘’He what?’’
Natasha sighed. ‘’He wasn’t meant to think.’’
‘’What was he meant to be?’’
Everyone knew the answer to that, but now it would be stated as official in the court transcript. ’’A weapon.’’
‘’A weapon,’’ he repeated. ‘’And it seems he served a long time.’’ He withdrew from the stand. ‘’No further questions.’’
‘’Ms. Walters?’’ The judge called, ‘’Do you wish to cross examine?’’
Ms. Walters rose slowly. ‘’The defense rests, your honor.’’
‘’The witness may step down.’’
Inwardly, Natasha seethed. The prosecutor was already back to his seat, shuffling through some papers, looking unperturbed and even smug. She caught Barnes watching her, looking blank as ever.
Say the word, she thought, And I’ll kill him.
It wasn’t mind reading per se, but the slight shake of Barnes’ head told her he understood her intentions. The Red Ballerina was not to kill in the name of the Soldier.
Except it wouldn’t be for him, not entirely. It would be for all the people in all of HYRDRA’S programs who didn’t make it. The ones who missed their chance of escape as these very officials in this courtroom shook hands with HYDRA undercover agents, ignoring the red flags and inconsistent stories for the chance at furthering their careers. This prosecutor wanted to talk about thinking? About comprehension? How much comprehending does it take to realize that if you shake the devil’s hand, your own gets stained with blood?
‘’Ms. Romanov? You may step down.’’
Natasha did so.
...
Video Evidence
…
‘’The following is video evidence demonstrating the types of procedures HYDRA officials inflicted on Sergeant Barnes over the course of imprisonment. These procedures were highly dangerous, involving electrical charges, enacted by unqualified personal, and- I’m sure I don’t need to point out- without consent.’’
The video was going to be played anyway. By the defense introducing into evidence, they had the chance to preface it. That’s what Walters said, anyway. But really, there wasn’t enough prefacing in the world to explain that grainy, dull picture only clearly outlining his half naked body strapped to a chair, gagged with a mouth guard and his face obscured by equipment. Nor could it accurately prepare the court for the screams that emitted as a consequence.
The tapes had been recovered from abandoned bases. Apparently, the research done on him had been circled around various HYDRA hideouts. This clip must’ve been early on, mostly because he didn’t quite recognize the background, and he thought he looked a little too angry. Pierce had liked him quiet and docile during recalibration. This must’ve been back before he broke.
If he’d eaten that morning, he was pretty sure vomit would be crawling up his throat by now. He wasn’t watching the screen. Regardless, images were threatening to overcome him, flickering in his mind. Memories of how they ‘tested him’, gauged how well they were doing, how far gone he was. In the early days, it had been a rebellion every time they were disappointed. And then it changed to him being disappointed along with them, because maybe if he were gone mentally he would be free.
Yet seventy years later, he was still here.
He leaned over to Walters. ‘’I want out,’’ he whispered through gritted teeth. Without hesitation, she motioned to the bailiff. They had discussed this beforehand, her assuring him he could leave if he needed to. At the time, he thought her a liar, or at least naive. He couldn’t leave, couldn’t let anyone see his weakness. But now he didn’t care.
‘’Who is this, Soldat?’’
‘’Answer, Soldat.’’
‘’So you know her? No? Then you won’t mind if we hurt her?’'
‘’No? You don’t like that? Then admit what you know of this person or suffer the consequences.’’
It had been a good system to gauge what he remembered. A good, cruel, despicable system. After all, to break something, you had to understand it, explore it. His mind had been comprehended and turned inside out, so the better to use it against him and dissolve it piece by piece.
The bailiff escorted him outside the courtroom where he collapsed on a bench. He put his head in his hands, past caring what the man thought of him. Let him think him weak, let him think him embarrassed by shame or overcome with guilt. God, could this just stop? Could this please end?
Which way? Which way? The age old question rang in his head. Would this end with him being alive or dead?
What was he now?
He didn’t know how long he sat there before he realized he wasn’t alone. Someone had sat next to him on one side, another on the arm on the other side. Both left him plenty of space. Once registering their presence, it didn’t take much to decipher who they were. ‘’Can I help you?’’
‘’It was a boring film,’’ Natasha summarized in a flat tone.
Bucky realized he should probably inquire as to what the mood was within the room, whether the video was working for the defense or against it, but he found himself asking only about one person’s opinion. ‘’Is Steve still in there?’’
‘’Yes,’’ T’Challa answered.
Of course he was. Because Bucky Barnes at one time knew Steven Rogers better than Steven Rogers knew himself, and he knew that he was watching that video as a from of penance, in horror and anger and disappointment in himself. That thought was almost enough to make Bucky rise and go back in that room with head held high on the chance that it would lessen Steve’s pain.
Almost.
Whatever HYDRA had injected into him was supposed to make him into their version of a super solider, but they had gone wrong in more ways than one. Bucky couldn’t take this hit. Not now. Not anymore.
…
The courtroom was emptying. A recess had been called, presumably for people to get lunch but most by now were probably losing their breakfasts. Rhodey watched as one of the bailiffs removed the video equipment, hands shaking and unplugging everything, as if that would protect them from the memory of what had been played.
Steve was still sitting. Sitting upright and unmoving, as he had been since the video had first been popped in. When it started, his eyes had only been on Bucky, gauging how he was doing, and Rhodey couldn’t deny his own relief when the man removed himself before the footage went on for long. No matter anyone’s position on this matter, no one could him expected to sit through that. He had expected Steve to follow him, before a certain segment of the video revealed to him why that was impossible;
‘’Do you know this person?’’
They’d used Steve to gauge Bucky’s mind. Asked Bucky if he recognized Steve’s face. The grainy footage was mostly on Bucky and whatever mad scientists that were working on him, so whether they used pictures or footage of him, Rhodey didn’t know. But he caught Bucky’s muffled replies, reluctantly delivered in pain so as to avoid more pain. He caught the scientists muttered words about ‘impact of Steven Rogers’. He caught Steve’s ever still face, sitting on the courtroom bench looking like it was he who was on trial.
‘’You know me.’’
‘’No I don’t!’’
He couldn’t, because knowing him meant pain. Knowing him meant punishment, recalibration. Knowing him meaning taunting him with the hope of escape.
When the crowds had finally dissipated, Rhodey rose from his seat. He approached Steve’s bench. ’’Cap?’’
He turned slowly, focusing on him through the haze of thoughts that were no doubt spinning in his head. ‘’Yes?’’
Rhodey watched him rise. A moment of doubt flickered through his mind, remembering he was talking not only to Captain America, but also a boy who had been born and raised in the 1920’s. But he didn’t get to where he was in life by not noticing what was right in front of his face. ‘’I’m sorry.’’
‘’What for?’’ It sounded like his usual innocent tone, but there was a hardness to his face that always occurred in regards to Barnes. It was like by putting him on trial, they were putting Steve on trial. Worse, like they were trying to take a part of him away. And Rhodey suspected that was exactly what it felt like from his perspective.
‘’You asked Tony,’’ he began, ‘’What he would do if it were me.’’
Steve blinked, remembering the conversation. ‘’And?’’
‘’And you were right. He would do the same things you did, and I would do the same things for him,’’ Rhodey said. ‘’But in a way, it’s different. You and Bucky, me and Tony. I think a more apt description would be if… if they’d taken Pepper. Right?’’
Steve flinched. Flinched. Captain America, who habitually threw motorcycles at Nazis- flinched. Because this might be the 21st century, but they were currently in a government building debating if they should make the victim of said Nazi’s pay for their crimes.
A pause filled the air. Steve jerked his head. A nod. ‘’Yes.’’
He sat back down on the bench, his head in his hands, a mere glimpse of the turmoil Rhodey was only now beginning to see. When Tony had gone missing, he had been furious, terrified, searching night and day and directing countless teams, prepared to search the entire earth if it meant finding his best friend. Pepper had been on the other end of the phone, doing the same from where she was back in America. But while he had been looking for his other half, she had been looking for her world. Even back then, when they had both been too professional and stubborn to admit what they had, their world’s had revolved around each other. That’s how it was with the person you loved, your soulmate; they irrevocably changed your world, and without them, that world came crashing down.
Rhodey knew that firsthand.
He could only imagine what it was like to learn that lesson, make your peace with it, and then have your world come in and out of focus with each return of your love. First Bucky had been captured, died, then returned to Steve in the modern day and age, only to disappear again. And even after finding him anew, getting him safely away from HYDRA, here they were, threatening to take him away again.
The press were printing stories about how it was a miracle Bucky hadn’t killed anyone in this courtroom? Rhodey thought the marvel of self restraint once again fell to Steve Rogers. ‘’I’m sorry.’’
Steve made no reply. There was none to make to what Rhodey recognized to be such an unfulfilling sentiment.
…
Miraculously, the bathroom was empty save for herself. Wanda had slipped away from her group without a word, wanting only to splash water on her face and regain feeling in her body. It seemed she’d gone numb all over in the course of the last few hours. She was standing by the sink, fingers clutching the counter, trying to garner the strength to turn on the faucet, when something within her gave out.
She threw up into the sink, choking on tears.
‘’Do as we say.’’
‘’Trust us.’’
‘’Remember the cause.’’
‘’Do not trouble yourself about them, they are nothing to you .’’
‘’Ms. Maximoff…’’ Vision’s voice was to her left. ‘’Wanda… are you-?’’
Wanda forced a trembling breath out. ‘’This is the women’s bathroom, Vis,’’ she scolded, her voice wavering.
He didn’t move. Wanda closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. The smell from the sink wasn’t helping her not to be sick again. She had a strong desire to simply fall to the bathroom floor and let the building sobs in her chest encompass her. More memories flickered through her head, her and Pietro contemplating what it was that made the handlers treat them differently then the Soldiers and the Red Room girls.
Why they got sequestered cells instead of a shared locked room.
Why they got two meals instead of one.
Why when they bled they were permitted to bandage the other.
As a girl, Wanda had believed the lies. She and Pietro were special. They were worthy to undertake these powers and bring about change. Perhaps even the handlers believed it. That didn’t mean they still didn’t view them as freaks. And, had she and Pietro refused, had had somewhere else to go other than HYDRA, that they wouldn’t have been taken by force.
She and Pietro were always going to end up like this. There had never really been a way of escape.
But this was only part of her pain. There was another, sharper secret, that tore at her and consumed her with guilt.
Wanda finally managed to run the sink water. She let it run over her hand, cold and reassuring, before washing her face. It shut off with a click. ‘’We had missions together,’’ she confessed, her voice a soft echo in the bathroom. ‘’With the Soldier… sometimes.’’
Vision was a quiet audience. ‘’Once, I looked into his mind.’’ Wanda remembered receiving the request and thinking nothing of it to comply with it. ‘’It was empty, Vis. His mind- what they did to him- the chair-‘’ she faced him, trying to find the words to describe how thoroughly the HYDRA agents had done their job. ‘’It was like they ripped the doors off the hinges to every thought, bordered every memory up. A house raided and covered in cobwebs. The mind of a dead man. The only thing that kept him alive was his heart. Otherwise, he was a corpse walking. The perfect weapon.’’
She shook her head, hand pressed to her mouth. That emptiness and darkness was what the handlers had wanted her to use her power to inflict on others. Read their minds, learn their fears, and then use them to render them insane. Empty. Afraid to think.
Vision came closer, reaching tentatively towards her. Wanda let her head fall against his chest as his hand went to her hair. She tried to comfort herself with the fact that this was real, she wasn’t there anymore, Bucky wasn’t there anymore, and there was no more Winter Soldier program or Red Room or any of it anymore.
But there was a con to growing up, to becoming an adult and taking ownership of one’s self. Namely, that Wanda couldn’t bring herself to believe in lies anymore.
…
…....
…
It all ran together.
More evidence. More testimony. Ayo, as the representative for his being free from HYDRA’s technology. A psychiatrist as to the state of his mind. More evidence. More arguments. Objections, sidebars, The courtroom was a pot of water boiling ever hotter, and tempers were fraying.
He was called to the stand. They had debated whether this was a good course of action. For his part, he doubted whether it would be affective for either side. He’d seen the papers; pictures of him looking cold and aloof, reading THE WINTER SOLDIER; COLD IN THE FACE OF DEATH? And other such frozen related puns. Maybe they weren’t far off. He certainly felt frozen.
His mind was playing tricks on him. Due to stress or the bouts of evidence the prosecution kept turning up in regards to past crimes, he didn’t know. Voices whispered in his ear, pleas of mercy from his victims. And the Soldier underneath it all, bristling with contempt for all this nonsense. What handlers are these that they argue among themselves with what to do with me? Weak.
He was on the stand. Questions were asked of him. He answered them. Did he answer them well? He didn’t know. He was at a loss as how to speak of such horrific things while garnering sympathy.
Even if he knew how, would he want it?
‘’Sergeant Barnes, do you remember this man?’’
‘’This woman?’’
‘’This child?’’
He didn’t know their names. They never gave names. At least, not to keep. But he hadn’t been lying when he said he remembered all of them. Even now he could identify their screams, the looks on their faces as he came towards them. Some of them had items he remembered clearly; a locket of a love, a book they were returning, a note they were writing. Others uttered last words, thinking him the type of killer who could pass on a message.
‘’Please, tell them I love them.’’
‘’Tell them I’m sorry.’’
It was always some variation. Apparently, at the end of life, all that matters is love and regret.
His spiral of thought processes didn’t register to the court. He answered yes or no. He maintained eye contact with whoever was speaking. He did not mince words. He spoke factually. He did not risk glancing at the jurors. Mostly because, out of the corner of his eye, a few too many of them resembled past victims.
Time was skipping past him. He realized this must be that dissociating thing that therapist had mentioned. He recognized it long enough for himself to fully lean into it. Let the world fade away. Let this shell he wore- be it James Barnes, the Winter Soldier, whoever he was- take over and carry him through the day. One way or another, this would be over soon. He would be over soon.
He couldn’t have told what happened on the stand not five minutes after stepping down from it. By the time they were back at Stark Tower, he’d forgotten he even took it. But the dread was still in his chest, the voices still in his ears. That night, he locked his door and slipped under the bed, even when he clearly heard Steve out in the hallway. There was no comfort to be had for him tonight, nothing he deserved. He had had his days in court. Let these victims have their say in his mind tonight.
One way or another, this would end soon.
One way or another.
…
Closing Arguments: Prosecution
…
‘’It is no secret that Sergeant Barnes has indeed suffered much at the hands of HYDRA.
‘’He was captured, tortured, and inflicted to horrors beyond all comprehension. We honor his sacrifices, the deeds he preformed in service to his country. There is no doubt in my mind and I am sure in yours that he did not ask for what he was put through.
‘’But that is not why we are here today.
‘’We are here, because crimes were committed. Murders. The Winter Soldier has over two dozen confirmed kills to his name. There are three dozen kills that are speculated to have been preformed by him. And these are only the ones we know about.
‘’We have forensic evidence. We have witness testimony. In any other trial, we have the means of proving that that man sitting there killed these people. This would not be a trial. This would be a closed case.
‘’So, why are we here? Why are we debating?
‘’It is because, I think, at our core, we are a society prone to second chances. We wish to save those who are victims and punish those who are villains. Sergeant Barnes is indeed a victim, but he is also not without blame. And he is also not without change .
‘’You’ve heard Ms. Romanov state that the Winter Soldier was not meant to think, but to act as he was ordered. You’ve heard from medical experts that his mental state after withstanding such treatment is far from stable. Do any of us really believe that this man could escape such horrific treatment and be able to function in our society? Is this a man we want free in our society? It this a man we can trust?
‘’And what of the families of those who lost loved ones to the Winter Soldier? The victims not of HYDRA’s political advances, but the ones whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time? What about justice for them? Peace, for them?
‘’I urge to sympathize with those victims, but I feel I must remind you that your job as jurors is not about sympathy. It’s about facts. And the facts in this matter are that Sergeant Barnes was the Winter Soldier. And as that person, regardless of his desire to become it, did in fact do so. And as such, people have died. The question of guilt is an astounding, deafening, yes .’’
…
Closing Arguments: Defense
…
‘’It’s true. There is much the prosecution has said that is factually true. There is forensic evidence confirming the Winter Soldier as the perpetrator to many, many murders. There are eye witnesses prepared to testify in regards to the actions he preformed. But, there is something missing from this case that is present in all other murder trials. At least, the ones that result in a conviction. And that, is motive.
‘’HYDRA created the Winter Soldier. They ordered that Soldier to kill specific people for reasons only known to themselves. My client had no motive to kill any of those people. He had no means save for the ones his captors forced upon him. And as for opportunity- well, they manufactured that too, freeing him from their chains and muzzles long enough to get the job done.
‘’The prosecution states that the Winter Soldier was intended to be a weapon. Yes, he was. In seeking justice, do we prosecute the gun that was fired? The bullets that killed the victim? No, we prosecute the one who fired the weapon. Who took aim. Who loaded the gun.
‘’Sergeant Barnes was fashioned into a weapon. HYDRA is the one who aimed and fired it.
‘’Despite all this, despite the years of conditioning and torture, Sergeant Barnes sits before you today, a jury of his peers, his fellow US citizens, his government, and asks for your consideration of his plight. He asks you to protect his freedom like he protected yours when he answered the call to serve his country back in 1943. The prosecution says we are a society prone to second chances, yet one of our veterans had to flee to another country to get the help he needed in order to finally be free from the shackles of HYDRA’s power.
‘’But like they said, your job as jurors is not to sympathize, it is to rule based on facts. And the facts are these; Sergeant James Barnes would not be here today if he had not answered the call of his country to help protect the freedoms of others. Are we really going to rule in favor of what HYDRA’s organization already spent over seventy years inflicting on him? More imprisonment? More penance? For motives that do not belong to him?
‘’I’m sorry, but that is not justice. That is aiding and abetting the crime of an institution that is against everything our government claims to uphold. I want no part of it. I assume neither do you.
‘’I know James Barnes never did.’'
…
Verdict
…
‘’The defendant will rise.’’
Defendant. That was him. Asset, Soldier, Winter, James, Bucky- all these names, but defendant was the first he’d come to truly hate. Loath. It made his mouth go dry and his legs shake.
But he did rise. He met the judge’s icy stare with his own. He was on standby; not called to action, not given a mission, but he would be soon. He must be ready.
One way or another, this was about to end.
The judge looked to the 12 people that stood to her left. ‘’Madam Foreperson, how does the jury find the defendant?’’
‘’We the jury, on the counts of actions taken by the Winter Soldier, find the defendant James Buchanan Barnes…
‘’Not guilty.’’
The noise was deafening. It rang in his ears. Some people were shouting, others gasping in horror, others cheering. The judge was banging her gavel for silence. Bucky didn’t see. His head was down, his one hand holding on to the table, leaning his weight onto it because it was currently the only thing keeping him upright.
Not guilty. Not guilty.
Not guilty.
‘’Bucky.’’ Steve was beside him. He clasped his shoulder and Bucky let himself fall against him, shift his weight to him, head hidden. The noise had not died down, but even if it had it would not stop the ringing currently in Bucky’s ears, the disbelief that was covering everything, making this whole moment seem unreal.
Not guilty.
Not guilty.
Once again, they were being jostled through crowds. T’Challa joined them, and Bucky could see the smile on his face, the relief, the joy for him.
Not guilty.
Not guilty.
They reached the doors. There was no keeping the crowds back today. Everyone was clamoring for attention, cameras and microphones being shoved in their faces as their owners asked for opinions, reflection, anything to spice up the headlines they were dying to write.
The headlines that would read; Not Guilty.
Tony had wordlessly distracted a good portion of the crowd, his position and prestige too good of an opportunity to pass up, even for a picture of him, the most deadly prisoner, who was as of now, free. But there were many reporters to go around, and in between them, protesters, much louder and angrier than the few supporters who were cheering at a much safer distance.
Steve was clutching his arm. Ayo was on the other side, acting as a protector for him and T’Challa both.
Bucky couldn’t breath. Something was wrong.
Not guilty.
Not guilty.
When the shot rang out, panic united the crowd. Steve stepped in front of him, T’Challa behind him- a good guess, thinking him the target. Maybe he would’ve been next. But no, the target had been the prosecutor who failed to convict him. Unfortunately, the shooter had not failed in their mission.
The sniper would be caught later that same day. Steve would let him know how the man confessed, just another angry person who didn’t understand. He would tell him how he didn’t have to worry. He was safe. He had won.
But he hadn’t. He understood now, thanks to that shooter. For in that moment, seeing the dead man who only yesterday had been the center of attention in the court, his closing arguments perfectly outlining exactly why James Barnes deserved to pay for the Winter Soldier’s crimes, he knew what emotion had come crashing over him when the verdict was read, it’s power so strong it nearly knocked him off his feet.
It was guilt.
…
The End
…