Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 4 - The Weight of the Past

I was sitting in the common area at the Avengers facility, my eyes scanning the pages of a mission report that seemed to blur together after the hundredth page. The hum of the building around me was soothing in its own way—a reminder that we were in the calm between storms, at least for now.

"Mind if I join you?"

I looked up to see Steve standing there, holding two steaming mugs of coffee. He had this look on his face, one I hadn't seen often. It was a mix of hesitation and something deeper, something that made my chest tighten with concern.

"Of course," I said, gesturing to the chair beside me. "What's on your mind?"

He set the mugs down on the table, sitting down with a heavy sigh. He didn't say anything for a moment, just stared into the dark liquid in his cup like it held the answers to every question he'd ever had. I waited, sensing that he needed time to gather his thoughts.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I saw him, you know. Bucky."

I blinked, taken aback. The name was familiar, a ghost from Steve's past that he rarely mentioned unless he had to. "Bucky," I repeated slowly. "As in... the Winter Soldier?"

Steve winced at that, and I immediately regretted my choice of words. I reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"No, it's okay," he interrupted, his eyes meeting mine. There was a storm behind them, a torrent of emotions fighting to break free. "It's just... that's not who he is. Not really. Not to me."

I nodded, letting him continue. He took a deep breath, staring down at his hands as he spoke.

"I thought he was gone," he said quietly. "For so long, I thought Bucky was just... gone. And then I found out what they did to him. How they used him."

I could hear the anger in his voice, the guilt that had been festering for years. This was more than just about a friend. This was about the part of Steve that still believed in loyalty and duty, that still believed he could save everyone if he just tried hard enough.

"I was there, you know," he went on, his gaze distant. "In that alley, all those years ago. I watched him fall. I thought I lost him then. But finding out he was alive, and not just alive but... twisted into something else by HYDRA..." He trailed off, his jaw clenching. "I should have been there for him. I should have saved him."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his regret. I squeezed his arm gently, unsure of what to say. How do you comfort someone who's carrying the burden of a past they can't change?

"Steve," I began, choosing my words carefully, "what they did to Bucky... it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known."

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. "But I should have. I should have been there for him, Emily. I should have... done something."

His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, I saw a glimpse of the young man he used to be, the man who had watched his best friend fall and blamed himself ever since. I felt a pang in my chest, a deep empathy for the pain he was carrying.

"Steve," I said softly, "you did everything you could. And Bucky... he's not lost. Not completely. You've seen that."

He looked at me then, his eyes searching mine for something—hope, maybe, or a reason to believe. "I want to believe that," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to believe that he's still in there somewhere."

"He is," I assured him. "And if anyone can reach him, it's you."

---

He dropped his head into his hands, his broad shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was finally too much for him to carry alone. "What if I can't?" he muttered, his voice muffled. "What if he's too far gone? What if I try, and it's not enough?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the gravity of his words. Steve was the most determined person I knew, the one who always found a way to keep fighting no matter the odds. To see him this uncertain, this broken, was like watching a pillar crumble.

I reached out, tilting his chin up so he had to look at me. His eyes were red-rimmed, his expression raw. "Steve, listen to me," I said firmly. "Bucky is still in there. He's been fighting all these years, and yes, he's been through hell. But he's still your friend. He's still the man you knew. And I know he still knows you."

"How can you be so sure?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "How can you be so sure that there's anything left of the man he used to be?"

I felt my eyes well up with tears, not just for Bucky but for Steve, for the man who never stopped believing in the good in people. "Because," I said, my voice trembling, "he's survived this long. That means there's still a part of him that hasn't given up. A part of him that's still fighting, just like you."

Steve's face twisted in pain, and he closed his eyes tightly. "I've lost so many people," he choked out. "I can't lose him too, Emily. Not again."

My heart ached for him. I knew Steve had faced more loss than anyone should have to endure. And Bucky was more than just a friend to him. Bucky was his brother, the one constant in a world that had changed beyond recognition.

"You won't lose him," I promised, my voice fierce. "Not if you don't give up. And I know you, Steve. You don't give up on the people you love."

He opened his eyes, staring at me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "But what if it means going against everything else?" he asked. "What if trying to save Bucky means breaking the rules, defying orders? What if it means... going rogue?"

I hesitated, knowing what he was really asking. This wasn't just about finding Bucky. It was about what he was willing to do to save him. And what it might cost.

"I can't tell you what to do," I said slowly. "I can't tell you what's right or wrong here. But I can tell you this—if you believe that Bucky is worth saving, if you believe that there's still good in him... then you fight for him. You fight with everything you have, even if it means going against the rules."

Steve swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. "I just... I just don't know if I'm strong enough," he admitted, his voice breaking. "Not for this."

I leaned forward, my gaze locking with his. "You are, Steve," I said, my voice steady. "You are the strongest person I know. And strength isn't about not being afraid. It's about facing that fear head-on, even when it feels like it might swallow you whole."

He stared at me for a long moment, and I saw something shift in his eyes. A flicker of resolve, a spark of hope. "Thank you," he whispered. "I... I needed to hear that."

I nodded, feeling a tear slip down my cheek. "You're not alone in this," I reminded him. "You have people who care about you, who will stand by you no matter what. Including me."

He managed a small, grateful smile, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "I know," he said quietly. "And that means more than you know."

---

As I sat there with Steve, holding his hand, I realized just how deep his pain ran. This wasn't just about a friend. This was about holding onto the last piece of himself that still felt real. In a world that had changed beyond recognition, Bucky was the one constant, the one link to the man Steve used to be.

And for Steve, saving Bucky wasn't just about redemption. It was about hope. Hope that even in the darkest of times, we could find our way back to the light. Hope that no matter how far we fell, there was always a chance to stand back up.

I watched as he slowly pulled himself together, drawing strength from the conviction that had always set him apart. I knew that he was still scared. Still uncertain. But he was also determined. Determined to fight for the person he believed Bucky still was. And I knew, in that moment, that he would go to the ends of the earth to bring his friend back.

And I would be right there beside him, every step of the way.

---

Sitting with Steve that night, I saw him not as the hero, not as Captain America, but as a man. A man who loved deeply, who carried the weight of his choices like scars on his soul. A man who had lost so much but still had the strength to hope.

And that was the man I believed in. The man I would fight for.

For as long as he needed me.