Demilitarization

14. I Was Alone, Falling Free, Trying My Best Not to Forget

Steve was awakened by a hoarse scream.  He scrambled out of his chair, where he’d been dozing, and opened his door.  He hadn’t been asleep for very long, and was disoriented.  He forgot, as he sometimes did, his size and his momentum almost caused him to fall when he hit the tile of the hallway.  Still, he caught himself and hurried to Bucky’s room.  Unlike before, there had been only one scream.  There was silence now.  It worried him more than continued screaming would have.

            “Bucky!  James!” he called, pounding on the door.  There was no response, but he found that the door was unlocked.

            It was good that the room was unfurnished.  Everything in it had been upset and thrown around the room.  Bucky was standing, crouched, in the corner by the window, looking almost feral in the moonlight.  His bright blue eyes were piercing and Steve was strongly reminded of when he chased the Soldier across the rooftop after he’d shot Fury.

            “You need to let me go, Steve.”

            The voice was calm, but didn’t sound like Bucky.  It sent a chill down his spine.  “Why?” he asked, his anguish obvious in his tone.

            “I can’t stay here.”

            “Why not?”

            Bucky leaned forward, growing agitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot.  “I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” he said softly, despairingly.

            “You don’t have to hurt anyone,” Steve began, confused.

            “But I will,” Bucky snapped.

            “Please, tell me what’s going on,” he begged, stepping inside the room and shutting the door behind him.

            Bucky leaned back, away from the moonlight.  He folded his arms over his chest, but was soon moving them again, restless.  “I remembered more,” he said at last.

            “What did you remember?”

            “Meeting Howard Stark during the war.”  Bucky was silent, eyes unfocused.  Steve waited, watching his friend.  “And… seeing him after the war.”

            “What do you mean?” Steve asked, brow furrowed.  A sense of dread filled him.

            Bucky took a deep, shuddering breath.  “What do you think I mean?” he asked.

            Steve ran his hand through his hair, and began to pace.  “It wasn’t an accident?” he responded after a few moments.

            “Nope.”

            “Does Tony know?” he wondered.  Bucky just looked at him.  “He might not let you stay when he finds out.”

            Bucky laughs, a short bark born of bitterness.  “Might not?”

            “It wasn’t your fault,” Steve asserts.

            “Yes, it was,” he replied flatly.  “It was my mission.  It might have turned out differently had it been anyone else’s.”

            “Bucky…” he said, voice breaking.

            “I don’t know what you expected, Steve.  I don’t think there’s any coming back from this.  I told you: Bucky isn’t here anymore.  I wish he was.  But it’s just me: a soldier who doesn’t want to fight anymore.”