Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 19 - A Quiet Refuge

The safe house was a modest, rundown cabin in the woods—barely more than a roof and four walls—but it was secluded and off the grid. Steve had found it through an old contact, and I was grateful for the privacy it offered. We needed a place to catch our breath, especially after everything that had happened.

Inside, the cabin was dark and cold. Steve and Sam went straight to work, securing the perimeter and checking the generator for power. I stood near the entrance, watching as Bucky hovered by the window, staring out into the dense forest. His shoulders were hunched, his expression distant. He hadn't said a word since we left the facility.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down on us. We had gotten through the worst of it for now, but Bucky was still fighting a battle inside his head. I knew he was wrestling with the reality of what had happened, the things he'd done while under Zemo's control.

I walked over to him, standing quietly by his side. "Bucky," I said gently. "Do you want to sit down?"

He didn't respond right away. His eyes remained fixed on some invisible point beyond the trees. I reached out, hesitating for a moment before touching his arm. His muscles tensed under my hand, but he didn't pull away.

"Hey," I said softly. "You're safe now. We're all safe."

His gaze finally shifted to me. His eyes were tired, hollow, and filled with a torment I couldn't fully comprehend. "Safe?" he murmured, his voice barely audible. "After what I did... how can you say that?"

I swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to look away from the pain in his eyes. "You weren't in control," I said firmly. "You know that, right? Zemo activated the programming. That wasn't you."

He shook his head, his jaw clenching. "It doesn't matter," he muttered, his voice growing harsher. "Those actions, those... horrors, they came from me. My hands."

I wanted to reach out and hold him, but I could tell he wasn't ready for that. Instead, I took a step closer, forcing him to meet my gaze. "Bucky," I said, my voice steady. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, he looked up. His eyes were a storm of emotions—guilt, anger, fear.

"You're more than the sum of what they forced you to do," I continued. "You are not the Winter Soldier. You're not the monster they tried to turn you into."

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and hollow. "You say that like it's so easy to believe," he whispered. "But it's not. Not when every time I close my eyes, I see their faces."

My heart broke at the rawness of his words. I knew this wasn't going to be easy, that no words of mine could simply erase the years of torment he'd endured. But I had to try. He deserved to hear the truth, even if it was hard for him to accept it.

"I know it's not easy," I admitted, my voice softening. "And I don't expect you to just flip a switch and be okay. But you need to understand this—what they did to you, the way they twisted you, that was not your choice."

He turned away, his fists clenching at his sides. "Then what am I supposed to do?" he asked, his voice breaking. "How do I live with myself?"

I stepped closer, cautiously placing my hand on his arm again. "You keep fighting," I said. "You keep choosing to be the person you want to be, not the person they tried to make you."

He was silent, his body rigid under my touch. I could feel the conflict within him, the struggle to reconcile who he was with what he had been forced to become. I wanted to reach him, to show him that he wasn't alone in this fight.

"Bucky," I whispered, "you have us. Me, Steve, Sam... we're here for you. We're not going to leave you to face this alone."

His eyes flickered with something—hope, maybe, or at least the shadow of it. He let out a shaky breath and finally nodded, though the tension in his shoulders remained. "I don't know if I can do this," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm scared... of what I might do again."

I squeezed his arm gently. "I know," I said. "But you're not alone. Every time you feel yourself slipping, every time you feel that darkness creeping in, you reach out. To me, to Steve, to whoever you need. We're not going to let you fall back into that abyss."

He nodded again, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something else in his eyes—a determination, a faint light fighting to break through the darkness.

Steve walked over, his eyes moving between us. "You okay, Buck?" he asked, his voice careful.

Bucky glanced at me, then back at Steve. "I... I don't know," he admitted. "But I'll try. For now."

Steve nodded, his expression filled with relief. "That's all we can ask," he said. "One step at a time."

Bucky looked back at me, his gaze searching. "Emily," he said quietly, "thank you."

I gave him a small, reassuring smile. "You don't have to thank me," I replied. "We're in this together."

We stood there in the quiet of the cabin, the only sounds the faint creaks of the old wood and the wind rustling through the trees outside. It wasn't much, but for now, it was enough. Bucky had taken a step—a small one, but a step nonetheless. And I would be there for every one that followed.

"Come on," I said gently. "Let's sit down. You need to rest."

He hesitated but finally nodded, allowing me to lead him to the worn-out couch. As he sat down, I knelt in front of him, taking his hands in mine. "We're going to get through this," I said again, looking directly into his eyes. "Together."

He looked down at our joined hands, then back up at me. "Together," he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn't a promise that everything would be okay. It wasn't a vow that the darkness wouldn't return. But it was enough for now, and that was all we could hope for in this moment.