Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 12 - Trust on Thin ice

The safe house was dark and musty, with a heavy scent of dust and disuse clinging to the air. It was hidden deep within the city, nestled between abandoned warehouses where no one would think to look for a fugitive and his accomplices. Steve had led us here with quiet efficiency, every movement calculated and practiced. He'd been through this routine before. We all had, in one way or another.

Bucky sat in a chair in the corner of the room, his gaze locked onto the window. He hadn't spoken much since we'd escaped Bucharest. I knew this was a lot for him to process, and I had to remind myself to give him space, to let him come to terms with what was happening on his own. But the silence weighed heavily on all of us.

Steve was pacing again, glancing between me and Bucky. It was as if he was trying to bridge an invisible gap between us with his eyes alone. Finally, he broke the silence. "Bucky, this is Emily. She's the one I told you about."

Bucky's gaze shifted from the window to me. His eyes were hard and cold, a stark contrast to the man I had read about in the files, the man Steve had told me stories about. Those eyes had seen things, done things, that had left marks deep in his soul. I felt a shiver run through me as I met his stare. It was like looking into the eyes of a man trying to remember what it felt like to be human.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Bucky, I know you have no reason to trust me, but I'm here to help you. We both are." My voice came out steady, which surprised even me. I'd rehearsed this conversation a thousand times in my head, but now that I was standing in front of him, everything felt precarious.

Bucky didn't say anything. His eyes flickered briefly to Steve, searching for a hint of deceit, a sign that this was a trap. Steve met his gaze with a steady, unwavering look. "She's with us, Buck. I trust her."

I swallowed, feeling the weight of Steve's words. Trust was a fragile thing, especially for a man who'd had his sense of self torn away again and again. I needed Bucky to see that I wasn't here to control him or fix him. I was just here to help him figure out what he wanted for himself.

"Bucky," I began again, my voice softer this time, "I know you don't know me. And I know you probably have every reason not to trust anyone, especially right now. But you need to know that I'm not here to judge you or to force you into anything. My job is to help you find a way back to who you want to be. Whatever that looks like."

His eyes narrowed slightly. For a moment, I thought he was going to dismiss me outright. Then, he finally spoke, his voice rough and edged with distrust. "You think you can just walk in here and help me... find myself? You think it's that simple?"

I shook my head. "No, it's not simple. None of this is. But you don't have to go through it alone. You shouldn't have to."

He turned away, his jaw clenching. I could see the war raging inside him, the internal struggle between wanting to believe that someone could help him and the overwhelming fear of being used again.

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. "Bucky, you know what Hydra did to you better than anyone. But you also know that you're not what they made you. You've already started finding your way back. Emily can help you keep moving forward."

Bucky's gaze shifted back to me, and I held it, refusing to look away. I needed him to see that I wasn't afraid of him, that I wasn't going to run if he lashed out or if things got difficult. I wasn't here to fix him because he wasn't broken. He was a man who had been through hell and was still fighting to crawl out of it.

"I'm not here to fix you," I reiterated, my voice calm. "I'm just here to help you sort through the pieces."

Bucky studied me for a long moment. The tension in the room was suffocating, every second stretching out like an eternity. Finally, he exhaled, a sound that was more resignation than relief.

"You're with Steve," he said slowly. "That's the only reason I'm not pushing you out that door right now."

It wasn't acceptance, but it was a start. I nodded, understanding. "That's enough for now," I replied gently. "We take this one step at a time."

Steve relaxed a fraction, stepping back slightly as if to give us more space. Bucky's eyes returned to the window, his shoulders tense, but the energy in the room shifted. The walls around him hadn't come down, but maybe, just maybe, a door had opened.

---

Over the next few hours, Steve left us alone to talk. He knew that if Bucky was going to accept my help, it had to come from a place of his own choosing. I took a seat on the floor, giving Bucky space. He remained in his chair, eyes distant.

"Steve tells me you were a nurse before all of this," Bucky said after a long silence. His voice was guarded, but there was a hint of curiosity there, like he was testing the waters.

I nodded. "I was. A long time ago. Before S.H.I.E.L.D.," I replied, keeping my tone light. "Worked mostly with trauma patients. People who had... been through things they didn't ask for."

He glanced at me briefly, and I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Recognition, perhaps, or understanding. He turned his gaze back to the window. "Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?"

It was a fair question. I had asked myself the same thing countless times since this whole ordeal began. "Because I believe in second chances," I said simply. "And because no one deserves to be defined by what was done to them against their will."

He was quiet for a moment, his jaw tightening. "You don't know what I've done."

I leaned forward slightly, my voice firm. "I know what was done to you. There's a difference, Bucky."

He flinched, just the slightest movement, but it was enough. Enough to tell me that my words had struck a nerve. He was silent for a long time, and I let him sit with it, not pressing for more than he was willing to give.

"I don't know who I am anymore," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the most vulnerable I'd seen him since we arrived. "I don't know if there's anything left to save."

My heart ached for him, for the man who had been reduced to a shadow of his former self by forces beyond his control. "You're still here," I said softly. "And as long as you're here, there's something worth saving."

Bucky didn't respond, but his eyes closed for a moment, his hand flexing into a fist and then relaxing. He was fighting, and it was a fight that he was waging every single day.

We fell into a silence that wasn't quite as heavy as before. It was as though a crack had formed in the walls he had built around himself. It wasn't much, but it was enough to let a sliver of light in.

---

By the time Steve returned, the tension in the room had lessened, just a fraction. Bucky didn't look as though he was ready to bolt at any second, and that felt like progress.

Steve glanced between us, his eyes questioning. I nodded slightly, a silent assurance that things had gone as well as they could for now. Bucky would still have his defenses up for a while, and that was okay. It was a process, one we would go through step by step.

"We need to stay low for a bit," Steve said, his voice breaking the quiet. "Figure out our next move. We have some time here, but we have to be careful."

Bucky nodded, the lines on his face easing slightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

I looked at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Good," I said softly. "Neither am I."

As I stood up to join Steve by the table, Bucky's gaze followed me. There was still skepticism there, still a mountain of mistrust that we would have to work through. But underneath all of that, there was a flicker of something else. Maybe, just maybe, a flicker of trust.

And that was enough for now. Because sometimes, the hardest battles weren't fought with fists or weapons. Sometimes, they were fought with patience, understanding, and the belief that even the most broken of people could find a way back to themselves.

Bucky Barnes was still in there, somewhere beneath the layers of pain and programming. And I was going to help him find his way back, no matter how long it took. Because in a world that wanted to define him by his past, he deserved a future.

And I was going to be right there with him every step of the way.