Chapter Text
It had been a couple of months since the… incident let’s say. Time seemed to be moving all too quickly and Bob hadn’t known a moments rest for the first couple of weeks. Everyone was so busy moving to the new compound and turning it into a livable space. They had been relocated to a new facility in the countryside, similar to the compound that Thanos had destroyed a few years ago. They figured this way, if anything happened with… well you know… then there would be less destruction and civilian casualties.
He had been forced into various therapy sessions and tests and such since the incident, none of which he liked much. However, now that he had unlocked some of his memories from the void and his mind finally had time to wander he often felt himself thinking about what he saw there. Not all of it, not his own issues or rooms so much, but particularly what he had seen in Bucky’s rooms….
He did not have the most incredible memory (Trauma, various mental illnesses, and drug usage will do that to you), but (with the help of some therapy) there were some things you just can’t forget. Things you can’t unsee. He didn’t exactly mean to see the rooms but he had, and the first time his mind revisited those memories after things had started to settle, he’d thrown up.
The setting of the first couple of rooms had been peculiar to Bob. He had heard things, seen some things on social media alluding to Bucky having been Cap’s friend during World War Two, but he hadn’t really ever given it much thought before now. It didn’t really apply to him nor had he cared much prior to this moment, but he was now forced to reckon with the fact that yes, Bucky was actually over a hundred years old. It was an odd feeling. All of the “New Avengers” had led pretty miserable lives or done some morally questionable things up to this point, but Bucky had already lived through so much more. It made Bob feel guilty sometimes. He felt guilty about how much his own trauma affected him after meeting a man who had been through nearly 3 of his own lifetimes worth of pain and suffering, but he pushed those thoughts down. His therapist had told him it was not fair to compare traumas, and that everyone’s trauma was valid. But it was hard not to ever feel guilty after what he had seen…
The first rooms, they had been dingy, dark, dirty, and suspended in a different time. Bucky looked so young… young and terrified. They had captured him, experimented on him, and by the time Steve had found him he hadn’t much remembered what had happened to him. After that was the fall… the prior experimentation seemed to have allowed him to survive it, though he often wonders if Bucky wished he hadn’t.
Seeing some of these rooms had made Bob curious to learn more about Bucky. Through his research he learned then that years and years of experimentation, torture, murder, abuse, etc had happened to Bucky… his memories were shredded, his mind was broken, he was turned into an obedient killing machine and the few times he dared break the mold and question it, he was tortured some more…. It had taken them twenty years, TWENTY years of torture to break him and begin to mold him into the Winter Soldier…and every time he paired that information with the images he had seen in the void, he threw up again.
Bucky came around the compound sometimes, but hadn’t moved in yet. It was hard to meet eyes with him, I mean it was already hard to make eye contact with most people, but especially hard to make eye contact with the man who had been through so much. It was hard to look at him and not get sucked back into the memories of the rooms. Bob had tried not to feel sorry for him exactly, he knew Bucky wouldn’t like that, wasn’t into pity parties and such, but it was hard when those images of what had happened to him kept him awake at night…. He couldn’t imagine how bad Bucky's own nightmares must be. He figured maybe that’s why he hadn’t moved in yet….
His therapist told him that obsessing over the man was not healthy, and was a deflection of his own issues that he needed to focus on and try to repair, but that was so hard to do now. It did however, help immensely to know that he was not alone.
Val had tried to do something quite similar to him.. sure it didn’t take, or last, nearly as long, and he hadn’t really killed anyone (thank god…) but she had tried to turn him into a “god” which was a cheap way of saying a weapon of mass destruction. She had tried to control him, to break him, she had experimented on him… and then she had tried to kill him. He still did not enjoy living under her nose, but he was aware that he was not allowed to go anywhere else at this time. Thankfully, Yelena was always around to keep an eye out for him, and he was truly grateful for that.
He had asked Yelena about Bucky a few times. Alexei had boasted about the Winter Soldier, had mentioned about how “awesome and amazing” he was, but Bob knew better. He always tried not to make a disgusted face when this happened, as he had clearly seen what they had done to Bucky to make him so “awesome” and he couldn’t agree with the sentiment.
When he spoke with Yelena about it, it had been late, and she had immediately gotten a sad and thoughtful look in her eyes.
“The Winter Soldier…” she’d sighed softly, taking a swig of her drink and tracing her finger around the rim of her glass for a while.
“I knew about him… knew of him, had seen him on occasion but back then I had no idea what they had done to him” she’d admitted.
“To us he was praised as a great hero, an obedient assassin, and we were told we should aim to be like him…” Yelena had told him everything she knew, and he mentally filed it in with all of the other information he had gotten from researching and then later wrote it down in a safe place (It helped him to write things down, since his memory kind of sucked, and his therapist said it might help improve his memory anyway, she didn’t need to know it was Bucky he wrote about).
She hadn’t asked why he’d been so interested to know about Bucky, but her eyes had shown both hints of sadness, and knowing. It was a bit embarrassing how well she could see through him, but he knew she wouldn’t tell.