Reaching Out | Bucky Barnes

11 | Friday, June 11th

I wake up the next morning with Bucky's arms wrapped around my tors, so I'm careful as I reach for my phone behind me to check the time.

6:43 AM.

I don't feel like running today.

I try to go back to sleep, but no matter how hard I try, I can't.

My eyes land on Bucky as he sleeps and carefully, I wiggle from his arms and crawl off the bed, thankful when I don't wake him. I grab my toothbrush from his bathroom and head across to my room to get ready, not wanting to disturb him. When I'm finished, I groggily make my way downstairs, finding Steve at the island again, sipping a coffee and reading another newspaper.

"Slacking today?"

"I'll make up for it in the gym. Felt like having a slow morning," I say, pouring myself a mug of coffee.

"It's nice to have those days," he nods. "Feels like we don't get too many of them anymore."

My smile drops. "Do you think it will ever slow down for you? That you'll ever be able to take a step back and relax?" I ask, thinking back to Bucky and I's conversation last night.

"I'd like to think it will. That one day I'll be able to settle down, start a family maybe."

"What will it take for you? To step down. Is there a final fight that will be the end?"

"I guess it's when the threat is handled. Or someone else can manage without me."

I nod. "What if there's always a threat? If it doesn't go away? Will you feel that you're enabling them?"

"Evil people will never stop. But good people won't either. If I stop, I hope that there is someone who will take my place," he answers. "What's making you ask?"

I bite my lip and look to my coffee.

Should I talk to him about it?

It's Bucky's business, not mine.

But it's Steve.

He'll understand.

I sigh and glance towards the stairs. "It's Bucky," I say with a lowered voice and Steve lets out a breath of air. "He deserves to live in peace, but the things that were done to him... I want to help, but I don't know how..."

"I know... I feel the same most of the time. I think the best thing is being there for him. Giving him space when he needs it but making sure he knows you're there. But I never know if I'm doing too much or not enough," he shakes his head. "It's difficult."

I nod. "I just wish I could take his guilt away. Show him that those years weren't him. And they don't define him."

"I do too," he whispers. "It will happen one day. One day he'll wake up and it won't be to nightmares or an alarm for a fight."

"I wish he never had to fight again," I whisper.

Steve shrugs. "Fighting helps; gives us a purpose. Plus, it feels like it will let us atone for our mistakes... Sometimes it does, sometimes... Well, at any rate, until we find peace, we fight."

"What if you never find that peace? What if fighting never brings peace?"

Steve stays quiet for a moment. "There has to be an end," he says finally.

I nod and take a sip of my cooled coffee.

I really hope you're right.

As I round the island I warm my coffee, steam escaping the mug as I curl up onto one of the couches across from the kitchen. For the first time in what feels like forever, I scroll through social media; using funny videos and cute animals as a distraction from the war in my mind.