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Bucky was pacing the floor of his room like a caged tiger.
After Sharon had announced that she’d pinpointed Dr. Nagel’s location, she’d promptly led them all upstairs to a hallway lined with suites. There, she’d advised them to each pick a suite to spend what little remained of the rest of the night in. Her intentions were to help the trio catch a few winks before going after the mad scientist in the morning, but Bucky wasn’t happy about the arrangement.
As far as he was concerned, the longer they stayed here in Madripoor, the more danger they were willingly putting themselves in. By going along with this little slumber party at Sharon’s, they were practically gift-wrapping themselves for the numerous thugs who were no doubt after the bounty on their heads.
Worse, if they already had the attention of every bounty hunter on the island, it was only a matter of time before the Power Broker got involved, whoever that zany character was supposed to be. Probably just another run-of-the-mill, deranged psychopath who was a few french fries short of a happy meal.
“Fuckin’ Selby,” Bucky cursed under his breath. They hadn’t even been the ones to send a bullet through her chest, and now look at the mess they were in! All of this was her fault. Well, her fault and Zemo’s. If Zemo hadn’t dragged them all out here to this shithole in the first place, none of this would’ve ever happened.
Bucky was starting to regret ever having recruited the slimy, smarmy bastard. He and Sam could’ve figured things out on their own eventually. That is, if they ever managed to hold a single conversation without it dissolving into a full blown argument.
Regardless, if there was one thing Bucky knew better than anyone else, it was that he couldn’t change the past. He’d freed Zemo, and there was no going back now. When his latest string of bad decision making eventually came back around to bite him in the ass, he doubted he’d be able to score a dash through the “H. Zemo” he’d logged in the little book Steve had left behind for him.
Most days, it felt as if that list of names was only ever growing. Cross off one name, two more shall take its place. Bucky doubted he’d ever reach the end of it. He doubted he’d let himself reach the end of it. In his eyes, no amount of good deeds he did would ever be enough to cancel out even a fraction of the evil acts he’d committed as the Winter Soldier.
Because he still was the Winter Soldier. Zemo had been right on the money when he’d said that “something was still in there.” There was some visceral part of him that would always be trapped in that mindset. He’d proven that with how easily he’d slipped back into the role at the Brass Monkey.
And now that Steve was gone, there was nobody else to pull Bucky out of his own head. There was Sam, but Sam obviously wanted nothing more to do with Bucky. He’d made that abundantly clear when he’d handed the shield over to the government. Now, Walker had it. Fucking Walker had Steve’s shield!
This line of thinking was only causing the intensity of Bucky’s pacing to increase.
Bucky strode towards the door. What were you thinking?! How could you just give the shield away like that?! You had to have known it would end up in the wrong hands…
He turned on his heel, heading back towards the floor-to-ceiling window. I know I don’t deserve to wield it… Steve knew I didn't deserve to wield it… but couldn’t you have at least…
Bucky shook his head, trying to physically expel these self-pitying thoughts as he turned back towards the door. He wasn’t owed anything, least of all an explanation. He had no right to feel sorry for himself. But since you did give up the shield, why are you still so headstrong on investigating the Flag Smashers?! Why not leave them to Mr. John “Cap is Back” Walker?! Why risk putting yourself in danger…
Back towards the window. I saw what they can do. I saw that girl smash your stupid little Redwing robot to pieces. They’ll rip your wings off just as easily. What then, huh?! Without your wings, without the shield to protect you…
Back towards the door. What if I’m not there in time to save you? What if I’m not good enough? I’ve lost Steve. I’ve lost the shield. Am I supposed to lose you too?!
The knock at the door nearly sent Bucky through the roof. Once his heart had dropped from his throat back down into his chest where it belonged, he pulled out his gun, and looked through the door’s peephole.
Standing out in the hallway, oddly distorted by the fisheye scope of the peephole, was Sam. He’d since changed his clothes into something better suited for sleeping. Sharon must’ve arranged it for him.
Bucky was still wearing the all-black pants, shirt, and jacket ensemble that Sharon had supplied when they’d first arrived. He hadn’t even taken his boots off yet, and he wasn’t planning on doing so anytime soon.
Bucky didn’t even bother opening the door, just opted to yell through it. “What?!”
Bucky watched as Sam rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to swing by and go over the plan for tomorrow. You know, since you’re always bugging me about not having a plan. Now c’mon, open up.”
Bucky wished Sam could see him rolling his eyes. It took several seconds to disengage the chain, deadbolt, locks, and latches securing the door, and when he finally managed to open it, he couldn’t help but grumble, “Couldn’t you have just texted me?”
Sam looked thrilled at another open invitation to poke fun at Bucky, “Well, since you’re always ignoring my texts, I figured a more direct approach would be better.”
“Whatever,” Bucky refused to rise to any bait. He tossed his gun on the counter and turned back around to face Sam, who’d pushed his way into the entryway. Bucky was eager to get this little chat over with as soon as possible. “Just give me a quick rundown.”
Sam’s eyes darted off to the side, “Right… about that… there isn’t really much of a plan.”
“That tracks.”
“Yeah, I feel like for the most part, the mission’s pretty self explanatory: We drive to the shipyard. We find container four-two-six-one. We find Nagel. We get what we need to know from him. We zip in, we zip out. Boom! Happy ending.”
“Yup, sounds foolproof to me. You’re a real mastermind,” Bucky was trying to usher Sam back towards the door. “So if that’s out of the way, I guess you can leave now.”
“Could you stop being such an asshole for five seconds?!”
Bucky opened his mouth to retaliate, but then snapped it shut, holding his tongue. He supposed Sam kind of had a point. He wasn’t exactly being fair at the moment, but it’s not like he’d ever admit that. In lieu of an apology, Bucky averted his gaze and huffed out an exasperated sigh. “If there’s no need to discuss the plan, then what are you really doing here? Did you come to talk strategy?”
“Honestly? I came to make sure you were okay.”
Bucky actually laughed at that. As if you’ve ever given a shit about me. Don’t start pretending you care now. “Yeah, sure.”
“No, really.”
“Well, I appreciate your concern,” Bucky’s voice was laced with sarcasm, “but I’m fine.”
Sam wasn’t backing down so easily. “It’s just that you’ve seemed kinda… extra messed up since that whole thing at the Brass-”
“Sam, drop it! I said I’m fine.”
“Oh really? Cause I’ve been listening to your boots clomping around in here from across the hall for over the past hour. It’s impossible to sleep through.”
“Well, I’d hate to interrupt any of your beauty sleep. It’s obvious that you need it.” Bucky crouched down to unlace his boots before pulling them off. “There, happy now?”
“No. I don’t care that you’re keeping me awake. I care that you’re holed up in here by yourself, freaking out instead-”
“I’m not freaking out!”
“Freaking out instead of sleeping!”
“I’m not freaking out, and I don’t need to sleep! I don’t get tired!”
Before Sam could refute such a ridiculous statement, there was a loud knock on the wall adjacent to the suite Zemo had chosen. The tell off merely irritated Sam, but the sudden loud noise had Bucky startling and reaching for his gun again.
“It’s just Zemo being a dick.”
“I know that.” Bucky almost sounded embarrassed.
“Your overreaction said otherwise.”
“Just caught me off guard,” Bucky continued to fume.
“You?! Off guard?!” Sam’s tone was teasing, but he had a feeling he was getting close to the root of Bucky’s problem. Well… the root of one of Bucky’s many problems. “Now how could something like that be possible?”
Bucky slumped down onto the couch, finally displaying how exhausted he truly was. “When I’ve got about a billion different things to be on guard about.”
“C’mon Buck, don’t be so dramatic. There aren’t a billion-”
“Bounty hunters,” Bucky started listing things off on his metal hand. When he ran out of fingers, he moved on to his flesh one.
“They’re all probably still pouring over Low Town. We’re much safer here in High Town.”
“The Power Broker.”
“Probably just a fairytale to keep people in line.”
“All those lowlifes downstairs enjoying Sharon’s little ‘art show.’”
“Just a few drunken partygoers who can’t even get up to our floor level without a key.”
“Sharon.”
“What’re you worried about Sharon for?”
Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? I know my memory’s faulty at best, but she’s definitely acting strange. She isn’t anything like she used to be.”
While Sam did agree with Bucky, he gave a halfhearted shrug. “People change.”
“Rarely have I seen somebody change for the better.”
“You have.”
Bucky gave a humorless chuckle. “Jury’s still out on that one.”
Sam didn’t say anything in response. He’d only be wasting his breath. When it came to Bucky’s recovery, it didn’t matter what Sam or anybody else believed. Bucky had to be the one to believe it for himself.
Bucky took the pause in conversation as an opportunity to continue listing more of who he deemed a current threat. “Zemo.”
Sam really had to restrain himself from saying anything about the fact that Zemo was only here because Bucky had helped him escape from a supermax prison. He swallowed his pride and tried for something more reassuring, “Remember what Sharon said? There’s cameras and motion sensors outside and all along this hallway. If Zemo tries anything, we’ll know about it.”
Bucky wasn’t convinced. Zemo was a cockroach, and he wasn’t someone to be taken lightly. Regardless, Bucky dropped the Baron for the moment. “Let’s see, then there’s the Flag Smashers.”
“We have no reason to believe that any members of the Flag Smashers are here in Madripoor.”
“Try convincing my scrambled brain of that.” Bucky understood what Sam was trying to do, but there were no limits to his paranoia. “There’s also Walker.”
“Oh please, Walker’s not a threat.”
That, Bucky could agree with. “Not by himself, no, but Walker’s the government. That makes him a threat.”
Bucky held up an eighth finger.
Sam had had enough. This wasn’t going anywhere, and he didn’t have all night. “Alright, alright! You’ve made your point.”
“Myself,” Bucky muttered.
A long silence stretched out between the two.
“Bucky…” Sam started before pausing again, considering how he should respond. Again, it’s not like Bucky ever listened to or believed anybody when they tried to tell him how much he was improving. Sam would need to word this carefully.
But before saying anything further, Sam opted to lower himself down onto the couch next to Bucky, leaving a cushion of space between them. Evidently, it wasn’t enough room for Bucky, who shoved himself as far into the armrest as he could go.
“Yeesh, do I really smell that bad?” Sam tried to joke, tried to lighten the mood. He knew the real reason behind Bucky’s movements though. After witnessing firsthand how little bodily autonomy the Winter Soldier had, Sam didn’t blame him.
“Listen, you’re-”
“I already know what you’re gonna say,” Bucky cut him off.
“Then by all means, please enlighten me,” Sam snapped, feeling irritated again. Here he was in the middle of the night, trying to extend an olive branch, and Bucky still insisted on being a dick.
“You’re gonna say that I’m not a threat. That I only used to be a threat back when I was the Winter Soldier. That I’m James Bucky Barnes now, and that that’s supposed to mean something. That I’ve got my mind back, and that I’ve been pardoned, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah… Just more of the same thing that everybody’s always telling me.” Bucky practically spit out that last part, his voice laced with venom, before glaring over at Sam. “Am I wrong?”
Sam gave Bucky a few moments to calm down before adding his own two cents, “Well, my spiel would’ve been a bit heavier on the ‘blah, blah, blah’ parts, but yeah, that was pretty much the gist.”
Bucky hmphed at Sam’s attempt at humor.
“Look… I know you’re tired of hearing it… and I know you don’t believe it yet… but Bucky… you’re not the Winter Soldier.”
Bucky shook his head, keeping his face out of Sam’s view.
“Back at the bar, you were only playing a part. The fact that it’s bothering you so much is proof that you were only playing a part. You aren’t really the Winter Soldier.”
Still nothing. Sam would have to go with the make-light-of-this-shitty-situation route again.
“I had to play a part too, and think about it: do I look like I’m suddenly gonna start dressing like a pimp?! Runnin’ around drinking snake hearts outta shot glasses?! Hell no! I’m not really that Smiling Tiger jackass. I’m me.”
Bucky’d started to laugh halfway through Sam’s comparison. “You couldn't act for shit.”
“Hey!” Sam jumped to his own defense, but he was laughing too. “I was doing just fine ‘til that call from Sarah came in.”
Their chuckles soon trailed off into silence. It’s not like the issue had been resolved. Far from it in fact. It would take more than a shared laugh between… friends, if that’s what they could call themselves… to work out all of their issues, but at the moment, there was a truce between them. Only time would tell how long it would last.
“Alright,” Sam rose from the couch, tabling their conversation for the time being, “I’ll leave you to get some sleep.”
“Sam, I… I won’t… I can’t sleep.”
Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest. Not in a confrontational way. Not in a judgmental way. Simply in a way that expressed his interest in the conversation. His interest in helping Bucky work through this obvious problem. “Why not?”
“Gee, I don’t know, maybe because of all the different threats I mentioned to you not five minutes ago!” It was easier for Bucky to let his hackles rise than to admit his true feelings. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down now. Not if it meant leaving Sam vulnerable.
“What if I keep watch?”
“What?” The suggestion threw Bucky. You would do that for me? Why? It’s not going to help, considering my real problem is ensuring your safety, but still.
“I could keep watch. Just until you fall asleep or something.”
Bucky scoffed, deflecting. “Pssh, what’s next? A night light? Maybe a glass of warm milk?”
Sam shrugged. He wasn’t going to let Bucky joke about this. “If those are items that would help you sleep.”
Bucky was getting more prickly by the second. “I don’t need you keeping watch.”
“Well, I’m not leaving till you get in bed.” Now, Sam’s arms were crossed in a confrontational manner.
“You’re gonna be waiting a long time.”
“Fine, then I guess we can both be sleep deprived tomorrow.”
Bucky couldn’t allow that. He would be fine without sleep, but Sam? Sam was only human. If Sam wasn’t well rested, there was more risk of him getting hurt. It wasn’t a risk Bucky would ever be willing to take. Looks like he’d have to bite the bullet on this one.
Bucky shot off the couch and griped all the way to the guest bedroom. “I can’t believe you’re making such a big deal over this. Over Nothing!”
Sam followed him to the doorway. “You not sleeping isn’t nothing.”
Bucky plopped down on the bed and scowled at Sam.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Buck.”
Bucky showed his metal middle finger off as Sam left. He tuned his enhanced hearing to the sounds of Sam’s fading footsteps, doors opening, and doors closing, to make certain that Sam made it back to his own suite safely.
The entry door to Bucky’s suite was no longer locked, but he wasn’t overly concerned. Sam had been right, hadn’t he? Nobody would be getting into Bucky’s space without first being spotted by Sharon’s advanced surveillance system. There was no reason to worry. Maybe Bucky really could allow himself to sleep.
Or maybe that was just this comfy bed talking.
Bucky’d fully intended on getting up as soon as Sam was out of sight, but now, just sitting on this California King, he realized how desperate his body was for sleep. When was the last time he had slept? Three days ago? Four?! The fact that Bucky couldn’t recall was a pretty big tell in and of itself.
It’ll only be for a few minutes, just to rest my eyes, Bucky placated himself as he laid down atop the comforter, finally surrendering to the pull of the bed’s magic spell…
…
“What’s the offer?” Selby smiled from where she sat cross-legged on her couch.
“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum… And I give you him… Along with the code words to control him, of course... He will do anything you want.”
Zemo walked behind him as he spoke, touching his arms and showing him off like he was the latest hot commodity. It took everything Bucky had not to rip the Baron’s hand off his chin. He wanted to be angry, but in truth, all he felt was fear. He hoped he was hiding it well enough.
Selby and Zemo continued their exchange, Sam and Bucky merely bystanders.
“Oh, the bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.”
“What is it that you are proposing?”
Wait…
“For starters, a demonstration, if you will. Proof that he’s still the good little soldier Madripoor remembers him to be.”
Wait! No! Something wasn’t right! This was different…
Selby was staring at him, ogling him, looking him up and down like he was prized livestock. Like she couldn’t wait to have him at her disposal. She would use him in any way she liked, either for herself or to whomever she rented him out to. She’d force him to maim or kill. She’d force him to commit… even less desirable acts.
This couldn’t go on. Bucky would refuse.
“Very well, if you insist,” Zemo turned to Bucky, and started spouting commands in Russian. And Bucky… no, the Winter Soldier, started following those commands to a tee! Something about how Zemo was relinquishing control to Selby. How Selby was to be his new handler.
Selby ordered him to his knees, and he dropped to them without question. Selby’s men were gathering around him, and whatever words came out of Selby’s mouth next would seal his fate. Would determine whether he was to be beaten or forced to pleasure them. It was practically the same thing.
In his mind, Bucky was screaming, but his body was obeying.
“Bucky.”
All the while, Sam was just standing there, watching. Allowing all of this to happen. Never stepping in once to save Bucky from what he desperately needed saving from.
“Bucky!”
Selby’s smile was predatory. “Winter Soldier, re-”
“Bucky!”
…
Bucky shot bolt upright in his bed with a gasp, attempting to swing his metal arm out in defense. Unfortunately, the prosthesis had managed to get tangled up in the blankets, despite Bucky never having burrowed beneath them in the first place.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Sam backed away from the bed with his hands up. “It’s just me! It’s Sam!”
Bucky stopped his frantic movements, panting out a few breaths before shouting, “Jesus, Sam! What the hell’s the matter with you?! I could’ve killed you just now!”
“I heard shouting. I figured you were over here having a nightmare, so I-”
“Yeah, that’s what happens when I sleep: I have nightmares! I shout! It’s nothing to write home about!” Nothing worth barging in here and jeopardizing your own safety over. Bucky was trying to disentangle himself from the sheets, but he only seemed to be making it worse.
Sam was getting tired of watching Bucky struggle. “Here, let me-”
“No, I got it!”
“Quit it! You’re just gonna-”
“I don’t need your help!”
Eventually, the pair was able to bicker their way through freeing Bucky of his confines. The comical finagling required to do so somehow resulted in Sam sitting next to Bucky on the bed. They were much closer to each other now than they had been on the couch, and the natural dip of the memory foam mattress only accentuated that. Their legs were brushing together from where they were dangling off the side of the bed.
Sam and Bucky both realized this at the same time, and rather than verbally acknowledge anything, they instead did what they did best: communicated via a staring contest.
Don’t make it weird.
It’s only weird if you make it weird.
Bucky sighed, running a sweaty hand through his cropped, sweaty hair. “I’m good now, so you can go.”
Sam ignored the dismissal. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Bucky kept his expression as flat as his voice.
How could he ever explain to Sam that whenever he closed his eyes, he couldn’t separate his own racing thoughts from intrusive ones? That he couldn’t differentiate between memories and nightmares?
How could he ever bear the shame of admitting what a coward he truly was? How disgusting he was? How petrified he was at the idea of falling into the clutches of another handler ever again?
God, what would’ve happened if Sarah’s phone call hadn’t interrupted?! What would Selby have demanded?! Would Sam have even lifted a finger to-
Sam let out an obnoxiously loud yawn. Surprisingly, it didn’t make Bucky jump like every other bump in the night had thus far. “Welp, if you’re not gonna talk about it, I’m gonna get some sleep.”
“Here? In my bed?” Bucky questioned in disbelief. The sheer ludicrousy of Sam’s statement completely pushed the lingering remnants of his nightmare from his mind.
“Why not? This bed’s more than big enough for the both of us. Plus, I’m too tired to make the walk back across the hallway.” Before Bucky could say anything, Sam was crawling over to the empty side of the bed. He flopped down onto it, his head landing squarely on the pillow. He kept his eyes closed in order to avoid seeing the murderous rage on Bucky’s face.
“Fine! Sleep wherever you want!” Bucky threw himself down onto his own side of the bed.
“Gladly.”
Once Bucky’s agitated breaths petered out, there were exactly twenty three seconds of blissful silence and stillness before Bucky was moving. He was constantly shuffling against the sheets, trying to find a comfortable position.
Sam’s brow scrunched in irritation, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Do you have to keep moving around so much?”
“I’m trying to get comfortable.”
“Ow!” Sam’s eyes flew open. “Something just jabbed me in the stomach!”
“That was my arm.”
“Then take it off! Why’re you wearing that thing to bed?!”
“No, I mean that was just my regular arm.”
“It better have been an arm,” Sam grumbled, having to start up his own bout of shifting and shuffling to readjust. “And quit stealing all the covers!”
“I’m not!”
“Yes you are! You’re doing it every time you roll over onto your back.”
“I’m not on my back! I can’t sleep on my back.”
“Can’t or don’t?”
“Can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t sleep on your back?! Everyone can sleep on their back!”
“Pregnant women can’t.”
“Well, are you a pregnant woman?”
“Of course not! I was giving an example.”
“Just go to sleep, Buck.”
Once they were both finally… finally situated, Sam closed his eyes for good, drifting off to sleep.
…
Bucky just couldn’t do it.
Whenever his mind started slipping towards unconsciousness, he’d be whipped back into full awareness by some alarming auditory stimulus. With every startle, his heart would jump or skip. A pit in his stomach would open wide.
The air conditioner turning on, the air conditioner turning off, water traveling through the pipes, the random cracks and creaks as the building settled, it didn’t matter. All of it was impossible for his enhanced hearing to ignore. Impossible for his mind not to interpret as an imminent threat.
There was a pop.
Bucky opened his eyes and sat up. He did a visual sweep of the room, and began listening intently for any other noises.
There it was again! Another pop! That had to be the sound of someone breaking in. Bucky had to do something. He needed to keep Sam-
Before he could jump into action, Sam’s strong arms came up to wrap around him. Bucky froze, then allowed himself to be gently pulled down flat. He expected the hands to immediately move away, but they stayed where they were, enclosing him into a safe, warm cocoon.
Bucky was in complete shock. This had to be some obscure form of sleepwalking. There was no other explanation. Sam would never willingly keep his hands on Bucky for this long otherwise.
It’s not that Bucky didn’t enjoy the feeling of a comforting touch, it’s just that he wasn’t used to it. Steve had always been quick to give out a hug or a clap on the shoulder, but Sam had yet to initiate such a gesture. Needless to say, this was a huge step up.
The hold itself didn’t feel restraining. It wasn’t making him claustrophobic. Bucky would be lying if he said it wasn’t pleasant. So, rather than risk waking an obviously sleeping Sam, Bucky… reluctantly … decided to go along with it.
Bucky’s posture was still rigid, as he kept himself in a state of constant vigilance. He wouldn’t give in to the alluring pull of relaxation this time. He would keep Sam-
“Bucky, it’s okay,” Sam wasn’t nearly as asleep as Bucky had thought. “You're safe… I’m safe too. Just go to sleep.”
Whether the sleepily stated affirmations were true or not, laying in Sam’s arms, Bucky had never felt more safe and secure. He exhaled fully, and the tension drained from his body as he settled into Sam’s hold. He closed his eyes, and drifted off into a gentle, dreamless sleep.
It was the most peaceful sleep he had ever known.