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“He doesn’t want to see me, Sam.”
“I know. But go, anyway.”
That phone call from Sam was how Bucky found himself staring at a door on a cool morning. Bucky adjusted his tie as he fidgeted on the matchbook porch of Isaiah Bradley’s home. Bradley’s grandson Elijah had already opened and closed the door in his face, but Bucky heard them talking inside. A moment later, the door opened, and Elijah gave him a hard glare before opening the security screen.
“Looks like it’s your lucky day…again.” The kid stepped aside.
“Thanks.” Bucky walked inside. The living room was small and dim. Isaiah was on his feet in the center of the room, staring straight at him.
There was something in the other man’s face that was different than the last time they met. The last time, Bradley was gloating and angry, boasting about taking half of Bucky’s arm in Korea and wondering if Bucky was there to kill him.
That time, Isaiah wanted nothing to do with him, and Bucky understood why. Hell, some days, he wanted nothing to do with himself. His brain felt like a traitor more often than not.
“Isaiah.” Bucky gave the man a nod, feeling him out. “Thanks for letting me in.”
Isaiah gave him a long look, his gaze traveling down Bucky’s suit and back up to the tie. “So, you decide a Congressman is who you’re going to be?”
The lump in Bucky’s throat went down hard. “Well, I’m giving it a shot.”
“Sam send you here?”
“He asked me to talk to you.”
“About the brainwashing thing?”
Bucky took a breath full of bitter memories. “Yeah.”
Isaiah nodded, his shoulders sagging. He gestured to the sofa and eyed his nephew, who was hovering near the door. The kid disappeared into a bedroom.
Bucky sank onto the cushion, clasping his hands on his lap. He stared at the black and gold of his vibranium hand. That fight with Isaiah in the bar came back to him, as fresh in his mind as if it had happened yesterday.
Bradley sank onto a chair facing him. “I owe you an apology.”
That wasn’t how Bucky thought this conversation was going to start. He looked up at the man. “What?”
Isaiah’s eyes glistened. “When you were here last, I laid into you pretty hard. I went on about how much I had suffered. They kept me locked up for 30 years, took my blood, did experiments on me.”
Bucky nodded, hoping Isaiah would continue and spare him from trying to formulate a response. What the government did to Isaiah was unforgivable.
“When I attacked the President, I wasn’t in control. I don’t even remember doing it, although bits and pieces have come back to me. Was it like that for you?”
God, how he wished. “At first. I remember it all now.”
I remember all of them.
Most nights, he wished he didn’t.
Bradley nodded, something solemn and pensive. “They did that to you, too, didn’t they? Experimented on you? Kept you a prisoner. Only it was 70 years. And they made you kill people just like they made me attack the President.”
Bucky’s throat was too tight to speak, so he nodded.
Bradley took a breath. “Yeah. I now know what that’s like, at least a little bit. They only did it to me once, but I felt like….” his voice trailed off, and he shook his head, his eyes brimming with tears. “Sometimes…” he cleared his throat, “I hear that song in my head, and I break out in a sweat.”
Sometimes Bucky heard the trigger words in his head, and sometimes, he’d wake up with his heart pounding, convinced there was someone in his room, speaking them, and it always took him a second to remember that he was free, and the words held no power over him…
Although, if he were being honest, that was a lie. The words still held power over him. They couldn’t control his mind, anymore, but they had left a mark that would never go away.
Shit. What was he doing? Sam sent him here to help Isaiah, and he was wallowing in his own past. He took a breath and straightened his shoulders, looking Isaiah in the eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know that.” Bradley nodded, but his eyes told a different story.
“Do you?”
The flicker of uncertainty in the other man’s face gave away the answer.
Bucky cleared his throat and leaned forward. “I thought I was weak, that it was my fault they broke me.”
Isaiah’s chin snapped up, spilling tears onto his cheeks. The words had hit their mark.
“You still think that?” Isaiah asked.
Bucky nodded. “Sometimes. I know in my head that it wasn’t my fault. Knowing it and feeling it are two different things.” He leaned forward. “Take it from me, Bradley. Forgive yourself for being human. He didn’t just get to you. He got to a lot of people. You may have the serum, but you’re still a human being, not a machine. That’s why he was able to do what he did. Because you’re human. It’s on him, not you. When you really believe that, you’ll be able to sleep better.”
Bradley raised a shaky hand and wiped quickly at his face. “You and I damn near killed one another in that bar.”
Yeah, they had. He could almost smell the sparks from his demolished arm and feel the current snapping through his spine and brain. “I won’t lie. I’ve had a few bad nights where I think back on that time and wish you had killed me.”
Bradley dropped his gaze to the floor. “When I failed to eliminate you, they decided I was more valuable as a lab rat. That’s when they locked me up.” He looked up. “What’d they do to you?”
The memories came so quickly that they brought the taste of bile to Buck’s throat. He could still hear his own screams, the sound of the saw as it cut through what remained of his metal arm. They’d put him through what felt like an eternity of “reconditioning.”
He clenched his hands into fists and shoved the memories down into a dark hole. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
“You didn’t have a choice when you killed those men. I know that now, better than I did before.” Isaiah stood up and extended his hand. “I called Hydra your people. They never were. Thank you for your service, Sergeant Barnes.”
Bucky blinked up at the man. It took him a moment to find his legs. When he got to his feet, he met Isaiah’s firm gaze and shook the man’s hand. Here they both were, two guys tasked with killing the other, shaking hands in an entirely different century.
It was surreal, but also…hopeful. Bucky wasn’t sure how much he’d helped Isaiah, but Bucky knew just how alone it felt to have one’s mind stripped away. No one could really understand what that was like unless they’d experienced it. If Bucky made Isaiah feel a bit less alone in that, the trip was worth it.
“If you ever want to talk more,” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, “call me, anytime.”
Isaiah took the card with a nod, glanced down at it, smiled, and slipped it into his pocket. “You’ve got a business card and everything?”
“No one uses those, anymore.” Elijah interrupted, appearing in the doorway of the bedroom, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame.
“I don’t know why not,” Bucky said. “They’re useful.”
“Just trade digits with your phone, man,” Elijah lamented.
Bradley chuckled. “Kids these days wouldn’t know what to do without their phones.”
Bucky smiled at that. “Tell me about it. They’ll never know the freedom of hanging out with friends, unreachable until it was dinnertime.”
“And we knew to be home or else,” Bradley finished.
“Yeah, that we did.”
Isaiah smiled again, giving Bucky a long look, this one bordering on mischief. “Thanks for paying me a visit, Barnes.”
“Anytime. I mean it.”
“So, Sergeant,” Isaiah jabbed his chin at Bucky, “I know a lady you might like. She’s partial to you. Nice gal. She used to be one of those Widows. Her name’s Ruth. She works in D.C., and from what I hear in the polls, that’s where you’re heading. You should look her up.” He raised his eyebrows. “I can arrange an introduction.”
Bucky shook his head, a smile forming beneath cheeks that were suddenly hotter than the rest of him. “I’m not sure dating’s in my future.”
“She already knows about your past, so the hard part’s over with.” Bradley crossed his arms. “Unlike me, you’re still young, Barnes. Don’t let life slip through your fingers. That’s my advice to you.”
It was good advice. Bucky knew that, even if he didn’t know quite how to take it. “Thanks.” He extended his hand one more time, and Isaiah took it. Their handshake was firm, cementing what Bucky hoped was a new friendship. “I’ll keep that in mind.”