Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 10 - Breaking the Chains

We spent the hours huddled over the table, mapping out a plan. I went over the psychological tactics I'd use, the steps needed to help Bucky ground himself when he felt the Winter Soldier creeping back in. Steve listened intently, absorbing every word. He was prepared to do whatever was necessary, even if it meant challenging Bucky in ways that would be painful for both of them.

"First, we need to establish a routine," I explained, drawing on my experience with trauma patients. "Something simple that Bucky can latch onto. Routine can help create a sense of normalcy, which is crucial for someone whose reality has been shaped by control and violence."

Steve nodded. "Like physical activity? Training?"

"Yes, but it has to be more than that," I said. "Physical training is part of it, but he needs mental exercises too. Breathing techniques, grounding exercises—things that will help him differentiate between what's real and what's not when he feels the programming trying to take over."

Steve leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "What if he resists? What if he thinks he doesn't deserve help?"

"Then we remind him why he's fighting," I replied. "We remind him that he has people who care about him and that he is more than what they made him into."

Steve was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the plans before him. "This could take a long time," he said quietly. "Months, maybe even years."

I reached across the table, placing my hand over his. "It's going to take as long as it takes. But we're not giving up on him, Steve. Not now, not ever."

---

I walked away from that conversation with a renewed sense of purpose but also an overwhelming fear. I knew what it was like to work with trauma survivors, but Bucky's trauma was on a scale I had never encountered. He had been stripped of his identity, turned into a ghost of the man he once was.

I had always believed in the power of healing, in the capacity for the human spirit to endure and overcome. But the doubts gnawed at me. Could Bucky ever truly be free of the chains that bound him? And even if we managed to break through, what kind of life would he have left to live?

Later that night, I found Steve sitting by the window, the moonlight casting a pale glow across his face. He was lost in thought, staring out into the darkness as if searching for answers that refused to come. I joined him, not saying anything at first. Sometimes, silence was the only comfort we could offer each other.

"You know," he said after a while, his voice a low murmur, "Bucky used to talk about wanting a simple life. A family, a house with a porch, the kind of life where you wake up and your biggest worry is what's for breakfast."

I felt a pang in my chest, imagining the Bucky Steve described—the man before the war, before HYDRA. "Do you think that's still possible?" I asked softly.

Steve turned to me, his expression earnest and raw. "I have to believe it is. Because if it's not, then what are we fighting for?"

I didn't have an answer. But as I looked into Steve's eyes, I saw the hope he clung to—the belief that even the most broken souls could find their way back. And maybe, just maybe, if we fought hard enough, we could give Bucky that chance.

"I'll be there every step of the way," I promised. "For him. And for you."

Steve reached out and squeezed my hand, a silent acknowledgment of the road that lay ahead. It was going to be a fight—a fight against the shadows of Bucky's past, against the ghosts that haunted him. But it was a fight worth waging, and I was ready to face it with everything I had.

We were about to walk into a storm, one that would test our limits and challenge our convictions. But for Bucky, for the man buried beneath the Winter Soldier, I would fight until my last breath. And with Steve by my side, I knew we stood a chance.

"Thank you, Emily," Steve said quietly. "For believing in him."

I nodded, looking out into the darkness once more. "From what you've told me, he's believing in," I replied. And deep down, I prayed that belief would be enough.