LEGACY: a bucky barnes story

Chapter 28 - Breakthrough

Bucky avoided me for the better part of three days. He spent most of his time amending and rewiring a generator he found. He spoke only to let me know we had power and running water. He spent his other waking hours journaling on his cot. I thought better than to interrupt, so I stayed out of the barracks.

I tried to keep myself busy by snooping in Hydra's nooks and crannies—finding only horrific accounts of the procedures and tortures Bucky endured. The graphic detail of one file in particular left me nauseous. I slammed the file shut and buried it inside a hole in the cement walls, praying Bucky would never find it.

Bucky reluctantly joined me on a market jaunt, but did not speak to me. He regressed back to grunts, nods, and exhalations. With a particularly successful market haul, I ventured communication.

"I'm going to make soup for dinner, will you join me?"

He gave only a slight nod in return, after a perceptible delay. He opened the safehouse door with haste. He left me gripping bags of groceries, watching as he stalked far away from me.

...

I pulled two carrots out of the bag and began to chop. I cleaned them as well as I could from the tap in the kitchen- area of the safehouse. I set aside the carrots and proceeded to dice the onions, potatoes, and green beans. After mincing the garlic, I set the least rusted pot on the burner. I poured a bit of oil in the pot and added the onions and garlic first. The heavenly aroma coupled with slight browning on the garlic edges indicated the rest of the vegetables would the sautéed. Seasoning with salt, pepper, paprika, oregano and rosemary from the market, I sliced the parts of the chicken we still had. Adding it to the pot, I grimaced in remembrance of dear Linda. Why he had to tell me her name is beyond me. I poured the broth and chicken bones in and closed the lid.

...

A few hours later, we silently sipped our soup at opposite ends of the table. I set my spoon down and looked toward Bucky as my stomach churned with anxious dread.

"Bucky, you have to know why I said what I did," I blurted.

He slowly finished his spoonful and gently set his spoon next to his bowl. Raising his head to meet my eyes spanned what felt like eternity. After another eternity, he finally spoke. "I do know, but I thought you felt it too."

Grateful to hear his voice again, I stammered on, "That's just it, I did—do—feel it. I'm just... S.H.I.E.L.D.—"

He tilted his head, eyes blazing. "You know what I think?"

I leaned forward. "By all means."

He cleared his throat. "I think you're afraid to do what you want if it might mean disappointing people."

I shook my head. "Wha-What are you implying?"

"Think about it, JJ. Does the idea of being with me feel wrong because you think so, or because someone else might think that?"

"Bucky—"

"Jaige—do you think that?"

I bit my lip and sighed heavily. "I don't know, Bucky. I just don't know. But if you're to get the help you need—I need to keep a steady focus on you and your memories. Please, can you do that?"

He sat back, raising his head to peer at the concrete ceiling before exhaling sharply.

"If you don't want me, just say that. Don't use S.H.I.E.L.D. as an excuse."

"Buck—that's not fair, you know there's more to it than that—"

"Just say it," he grimaced. "You know what I am and what I've done, and you don't want any part of it. How could I blame you for that? I'd just hoped you felt the way I do. But the shit I've done, what I was capable of—hell, what I'm still capable of—why would you want any part of that in your life? I'm a monster that-who could hurt you at any moment—"

I pushed out my chair and marched straight up to him. Leaning to meet his seated frame, I grasped his biceps firmly, leaning his head closer to mine. Forcing his eyes to meet mine with a swift twist of his jaw, my eyes softened as they melted into his spiraling gaze.

"You are not a bad guy—you're not the villain, the criminal, the monster you think yourself to be. I know what you've done, I read the files. The horror I felt when reading those leaves me knowing I have no grasp of the torment you endured. But the past, God, however many days? You've proven to me—even if you don't realize it—that you are not a monster. The horror I felt while reading was because of how they tortured you, not what you did as a result. They forced you into the role of a monster—but the person behind the mask is not the monster themselves. Can you see the difference?"

He averted his eyes, closing them tightly with a stray tear falling.

"I don't know."

He stood abruptly, forcing me to grip the table before I fell.

"Thank you for dinner. I can wash those later."

And with those words, he left. I couldn't stop the tears that fell. Needing to preoccupy my spiraling mind, I continued to cry as I washed the dishes. I dried my eyes stiffly as I crept to the barracks. Peering my head in, I heard the soft breathing of the sleeping figure inside. I tiptoed to my cot stack and nestled in before drifting off.