Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 52 - Shielded Tensions

The air was heavy as we walked up to Sam's place. Bucky had been unusually quiet all morning, his jaw tight, the tension radiating from him like a coiled spring. I knew this conversation with Sam had been building for weeks, and it was finally going to happen.

We stepped inside, and Sam was already there, waiting, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes flickered over to Bucky, then to me. There was an edge to his stance, something cautious but determined. He was bracing himself for what was coming.

"So," Sam started, his voice low and controlled, "you've been holding this in, haven't you?"

Bucky's eyes darkened, and I could almost feel the shift in the room, like an approaching storm.

"You gave it away, Sam," Bucky said, his voice barely above a growl. "You gave away the shield that Steve trusted you with."

Sam's expression hardened. "You think it's that easy? You think carrying that shield is just some simple choice?"

Bucky's hands clenched into fists, and I instinctively reached out to touch his arm, hoping to ground him. He was teetering on the edge, and I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on him.

"It wasn't about me!" Sam shot back. "I wasn't ready for it. You know what that shield represents? It's not just some symbol, Bucky. It's Steve's legacy. And I'm not—" He stopped himself, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm not him."

Bucky's jaw clenched tighter. "None of us are Steve. But he believed in you. And you threw that away."

I squeezed Bucky's arm a little tighter, hoping he'd hear the unspoken plea in my touch. I knew what this was really about. It wasn't just the shield. It was everything—the weight of his own guilt, the fear of not living up to Steve's expectations, and the constant battle with the man he used to be.

"You're not listening, Bucky," Sam said, stepping closer. "I'm not trying to be Steve. I don't think I can ever live up to him. But I'm trying to do what's right."

"And what's right," Bucky muttered, his voice laced with frustration, "is carrying that shield."

My heart was racing as I watched them, the tension between them building like a storm that was about to break. Bucky's pain was so palpable, and Sam's own struggle was just as raw. It felt like they were both standing on opposite sides of a chasm, and no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't bridge it.

"Bucky," I whispered, leaning closer, "this isn't about the shield."

His eyes flickered toward me, and for a brief moment, I saw the vulnerability beneath the anger. But it was fleeting, and his gaze snapped back to Sam, hardening again.

"This isn't about what you want," Sam continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "It's about doing what's right for the people out there. You think Steve gave me that shield just so I could parade around like some hero? It's not that simple."

"It should've been you," Bucky said through clenched teeth. "Steve trusted you with it, and you let him down."

Sam's expression shifted, something in his eyes softening as he looked at Bucky. "And what about you, Bucky? When are you going to stop living in Steve's shadow? When are you going to stop trying to be what you think he wanted?"

The words hit Bucky like a blow, and I saw him flinch. His fists unclenched, and for the first time, the anger seemed to drain out of him, leaving behind something raw and broken.

---

For a long moment, the room was silent, the only sound the quiet ticking of the clock in the background. I held my breath, waiting, hoping that the tension would ease, that they would find some common ground.

Bucky's shoulders slumped, and his eyes dropped to the floor. "I just... I don't know how to do this," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I don't know how to live without him here. I don't know how to be... me."

My heart ached for him. I knew how much this weighed on him, how deeply he felt the loss of Steve, the burden of trying to live up to something that seemed impossible.

Sam's expression softened, and he took a step closer, his voice quieter now. "None of us know how to do this, Bucky. We're all just trying to figure it out. But that doesn't mean you have to carry it all on your own."

Bucky's head hung low, his eyes still fixed on the floor. I stepped closer to him, placing my hand gently on his back. He needed to feel that he wasn't alone, that we were both here for him, even if he couldn't see it right now.

"I can't... I can't do this without Steve," Bucky murmured, his voice breaking. "He was the only one who ever really believed in me."

"That's not true," I said softly, moving to stand in front of him. "I believe in you, Bucky. I've always believed in you. And so does Sam."

Bucky's eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw the flicker of doubt and pain that he tried so hard to hide. He was holding on by a thread, and I could see it unraveling, piece by piece.

"You're not alone," Sam said, his voice steady and sincere. "We're in this together. You don't have to carry Steve's legacy by yourself."

Bucky let out a shaky breath, and for the first time, I saw the tension in his shoulders ease, just a little. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"I don't know if I can do this," Bucky whispered. "I don't know if I can be what Steve wanted me to be."

"You don't have to be what Steve wanted," I said gently. "You just have to be you. That's enough."

For a long time, Bucky didn't say anything, his eyes locked on mine as if he was searching for something—some kind of reassurance, some sign that he wasn't as lost as he felt.

And in that moment, I realized that I needed to tell him about the baby. He needed to know that there was something more, something to look forward to, something that could give him hope. But the words caught in my throat, and I couldn't bring myself to say them. Not yet. Not like this.

---

The tension in the room finally seemed to break, and Sam stepped forward, placing a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "We'll figure this out, man," he said quietly. "But we have to do it together."

Bucky nodded, his jaw still clenched, but there was something softer in his expression now. He wasn't ready to let go of everything, but at least he wasn't holding on so tightly anymore.

Sam turned to me, his eyes filled with understanding. "Thank you for standing by him," he said softly. "He needs you."

"I'll always stand by him," I replied, my voice steady. "No matter what."

Bucky glanced at me, his eyes filled with something I couldn't quite name—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper. "I don't deserve you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"Yes, you do," I said firmly, stepping closer to him. "You deserve everything."

For a moment, we stood there, the three of us, the weight of the conversation settling over us like a blanket. There was still so much left unsaid, so much unresolved, but I knew that this was a start. A small step toward healing.

"We'll figure it out," Sam repeated, giving Bucky's shoulder a squeeze before stepping back. "But it's going to take time."

Bucky nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at Sam. "Yeah," he said quietly. "We will."

As we left Sam's place, the air between us felt lighter, though the tension still lingered in the background. Bucky was quiet, but this time, it wasn't the same heavy silence that had been weighing on him all day. This time, it felt like he was processing, trying to find a way forward.

I slipped my hand into his as we walked, and he squeezed it gently. For the first time in days, I felt like maybe—just maybe—things were going to be okay.

But as I glanced down at my stomach, I knew that there was still something I needed to tell him. Something that could change everything.

I just didn't know how to say it yet.