The one forgiven sin 《Sambucky》

00.07

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James Buchanan Barnes woke up with a start, his rips where he had gripped them with his metal hand were painfully aching beside his paranoid breathing. He remembered them. All of them. But, god, he wished he didn't. He wished he didn't know how many people he had killed. He wished he didn't know how to kill someone with nothing but a needle nearby. And he wished he didn't remember their tearful eyes whenever he...

But well, here we are.

He would love to sit in the chair if it meant he would be made unaware of those things.
But HYDRA had been destroyed. By him. Steve Rogers. The man that knew him. The man he watched in the Smithosanian. The one he had been friends with. Or so the history books.

He had trouble remembering his childhood, but now, a year after the last wipe, snippets were slowly returning to him. If only those were the only thing....

Slowly, achingly slowly he stood up, to slur into the kitchen. A sideways glance told him it was not even four in the morning, which meant he hadn't even slept for two hours. But well, after that nightmare he sure as hell wouldn't try again.

His eyes locked onto the napkin he had stolen from the man that had found him. He had hacked into his phone (His password was password) and had written down Steve's number out of his phone. He didnt want to steal from one of the purest souls he ever met, but he wanted to have the option to reach out if he wanted to. That man, Sam, had done more for him than he could ever imagine. Those eyes, those oh so kind honeybrown eyes... He should ask for help.

He wouldn't.

He couldn't face them after all the crimes he had committed. No. He would stay away.

•□•□•□•

He did not stay away. In fact, he joined the fight. Not by choice, anyway. He rarely seemed to do something of his will nowadays.

He was about a 100% sure he, had he still been the Sargent in WW2, would have shown them his middle finger, turned on his heels and walked away, his hips dramatically swaying behind him as he walked.

But he no longer was that man.

So, without putting up a fight, he simply joined them in a battle, afraid of the catsuit wearing man on his enemy's side. That man was a power to reckon with, and he did not want to piss that guy off, if possible.

Well, no, he was afraid of all of them. They all were weirdly stronger than him, by lengths. Which was so weird. He was used to be a deadly weapon, everyone had feared him for decades, yet, here he stood, afraid to make a wrong move and get shut down by T'Challa. Who believed he killed his parents. Or get elimininated by Tony Stark. Whose parents he did kill. Yikes.

But, if he was totally honest with himself, he also feared the people in his team. The flying woman, Wanda, for example. She was... way more powerful than he ever was. Or their leader. Steve. He had seen him rip apart Nazis with bare hands, his uniform bloodied to the brink. He remembered Steve throwing that shield and breaking necks with it.

The fight was short, which was remarkable, the most powerful beings fighting each other was probably the shortest fight he ever witnessed. But, oh well.

They ended up in Siberia, where they re-met with Zemo, a man Bucky was sure to get material for a new nightmare from. Or rather, a memory.

Because he showed them a road Bucky recognised. He showed them the mission report of the 16th December 1990.

Before he could voice out his fear, or maybe a well deserved apology, a metal fist collided with his jaw, and his body started talking instead. His mind was scrambled eggs, but his hands never forgot their way. They never could.

Fists collided, hits were swung, and a feral cry rang inside of his head. It took him several minutes to realize the cry was his own as he had to watch his arm get ripped apart. Twice. Bucky lost his arm once again. Will the fighting ever stop? Will he ever find some kind of peace? He highly doubted that.

•□•□•□•

The catsuitguy, King T'Challa of Wakanda, as it turned out, was remarkably nice once he wasn't after your throat, Bucky noticed. The guy offered him safety inside his kingdom, simply because he regretted hunting the wrong man. That did not stop Bucky from still getting anxious near the King. But he definitely was thankful for the offer.

He just didn't want to cause pain anymore. For anyone but himself.

Which led him to wanting to put himself on ice. Again.

The king seemed hesitant, but his sister, Shuri, surely began working on a cryo chamber.

Just before going under, he asked to see Steve and Sam again. Steve was not even close to bring happy for Bucky's decision, stubbornly declaring Bucky wasn't in control and shouldn't be deemed responsible for his actions, but that wasn't what the one armed man wanted to hear.

Somehow, Sam knew that. He smiled at Bucky from across the room with apologetic eyes, and Bucky did his best to return the gesture. Yet, a smile felt weird, he hadn't smiled in so long, all he could imagine was a disgusting grimace.

He tried getting a lot more emotions into this half smile, emotions he never would be ready again to voice out.

Thank you, thank you for finding me, thank you for showing me kindness, thank you for touching me while knowing my crimes, my past, thank you for supporting my decision, thank you for being here right now.

Thank you for looking at me and not seeing a weapon.

And those oh so welcoming friendly eyes told him Sam got the message. Sam understood.