Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 18 - Battle of the Soul

The lights flickered in the hallway, casting long shadows across the cold, sterile floor. I stood there, my breath shallow as I watched Bucky struggle against the guards trying to subdue him. He was back under Zemo's control, and every muscle in his body was tense with that same cold fury I had seen before.

"Get him under control!" one of the guards shouted, but it was useless. Bucky was too strong, too well-trained. He flung one of them across the hall like a rag doll, the sound of bodies crashing into walls echoing through the facility.

"Steve, what do we do, he keeps relapsing?" I whispered urgently, my hands trembling. Steve's jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on Bucky as if trying to reach him with sheer willpower alone.

"Sam's on his way," Steve muttered. "We need to stop him before he hurts someone—or himself."

I nodded, though fear gripped my heart. This wasn't just a fight; it was a battle for Bucky's very soul. And the thought of losing him to that darkness forever was more than I could bear.

Bucky's eyes darted to us, cold and calculating. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of recognition, but it vanished as quickly as it came. He charged toward us, his metal arm raised to strike.

"Emily, stay back!" Steve shouted, stepping in front of me.

"No," I said firmly. "I'm not leaving him."

Steve didn't have time to argue. Bucky was on him in an instant, the force of the impact sending Steve skidding back across the floor. He blocked Bucky's next blow with his shield, the clang of metal against metal reverberating in my ears.

I watched in horror as they exchanged blows. Steve was holding his own, but I could see the pain in his eyes. This was his friend, his brother, and he didn't want to hurt him. I could see Steve's restraint, his hesitation, and I knew it was only making this harder.

"Bucky, stop!" I screamed, my voice raw. "This isn't you!"

He ignored me, his focus solely on Steve. My heart ached as I watched them fight, knowing that the man I cared about was trapped inside his own mind, unable to break free.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, and I turned to see Sam running toward us. "We have to stop him!" he yelled. "We can't let him go on like this!"

"I know!" I shouted back, feeling the desperation in my voice. "But how?"

Sam glanced at me, his eyes filled with worry. "You have to try again, Emily. You got through to him before."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Okay," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. "Okay."

Bucky had Steve pinned against the wall, his metal arm pressed against Steve's throat. Steve was struggling, his face turning red as he tried to push Bucky off. My heart pounded in my chest as I moved forward, my eyes locked on Bucky.

"Stay back!" Steve managed to choke out.

"No," I said again, my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me. "Bucky, look at me!"

He didn't react, his grip tightening around Steve's throat. Panic surged through me. I had to reach him. I had to break through the programming.

"Bucky, listen to me!" I yelled, desperation in my voice. "You're not the Winter Soldier. You're James Buchanan Barnes! You're more than what they made you!"

He hesitated, his grip faltering for a split second. Steve took the opportunity to shove him back, gasping for air. Bucky stumbled, shaking his head as if trying to clear away the fog clouding his mind.

I took a deep breath and stepped closer. "Bucky, please," I said, my voice softer now. "You can fight this. I know you can."

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw the man I knew—the man who was struggling to break free. But then, just as quickly, the coldness returned. He charged at me, and I barely had time to react.

"Emily!" Steve shouted, but I held up my hand, stopping him.

Bucky was inches away from me now, his arm raised to strike. I stood my ground, refusing to move, my heart racing. "If you're going to hurt me, then do it," I said, my voice trembling. "But I know you don't want to. I know you're in there, Bucky. Fight it!"

He froze, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself back. His arm hovered in the air, inches from my face. I could feel his breath, see the conflict in his eyes.

"Bucky," I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. "I know you don't want to hurt me. You don't have to be what they made you."

His face contorted with pain, his jaw clenching as he fought against the programming. I took a step closer, reaching out to touch his hand—the one that wasn't metal, the one that still felt human.

"I'm right here," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Come back to me."

For a moment, everything was silent. His arm dropped to his side, and his shoulders slumped. I saw the tears in his eyes, the sheer agony of what he had been forced to become.

"I..." he choked out, his voice breaking. "I can't..."

"Yes, you can," I said firmly, holding his hand in mine. "You can fight this. You're not alone."

Steve and Sam moved closer, ready to intervene if needed, but they stopped when they saw the change in his posture. Bucky's eyes softened, the coldness giving way to pain, regret, and something else—something that gave me hope.

He fell to his knees, his grip on my hand tightening as if I were the only thing anchoring him to reality. "Emily," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'm... so sorry."

I dropped to my knees beside him, pulling him into my arms. "It's okay," I murmured, holding him close. "It's okay. You're here now. You're with us."

He buried his face in my shoulder. I held him tightly, feeling his pain, his fear, his guilt. But also, I felt his humanity, the man who had been buried beneath the Winter Soldier for so long finally breaking free.

Steve knelt beside us, placing a hand on Bucky's back. "You're not alone, Buck," he said quietly. "We're here. We'll always be here."

Bucky nodded against my shoulder, his grip on me never loosening. I knew this was just the beginning of the battle for him, the struggle to reclaim his life and his identity. But in this moment, he had taken the first step. And I would be there every step of the way.

"You're not the Winter Soldier," I whispered into his ear. "You're Bucky Barnes. And you're going to be okay."

He didn't respond with words, but he didn't need to. The way he held onto me, the way he let Steve and Sam support him—it spoke volumes. He was here, with us. And for now, that was enough.