Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 55 - The Serum

It was late afternoon when we gathered at the safe house again. The air in the room felt heavy as Sam laid out the details of what we had learned. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the way Bucky tensed up at every mention of the super-soldier serum.

"There's more of them out there," Sam said, shaking his head. "Flag Smashers are using the same stuff that made you and Steve who you are, Bucky."

The room went silent as the words hung in the air. I watched Bucky's reaction closely. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, eyes fixed on some distant point on the floor. I could see the storm brewing behind those blue eyes, the internal struggle he was always carrying with him—worse now, with the serum involved.

"So, what's the plan?" Sam asked, looking between the two of us.

I stayed quiet, but Bucky finally spoke, his voice rough and strained. "We stop them," he said, his fists clenched. "We stop them before they become what I was."

I winced at his choice of words. Bucky never forgave himself for his past, and the idea of others using the same serum to spread more chaos was clearly eating him alive.

"I get it," Sam said carefully, reading Bucky's expression. "But this isn't about you. We're not going to let this get out of hand."

Bucky didn't respond. He just stared at the floor, lost in his own thoughts. I felt an overwhelming need to comfort him, to remind him he wasn't alone, but I wasn't sure how to reach him in moments like these.

I stepped closer, resting a hand on his arm. "We'll figure it out, Bucky. You're not responsible for what they're doing."

He didn't look at me, but his hand came up to cover mine, a silent acknowledgment of my presence. "I know," he muttered, though it didn't sound convincing.

---

Later that night, the tension between us was palpable. Bucky was pacing back and forth in our small room, his movements restless, like he was trying to outrun the thoughts swirling in his head. I sat on the bed, watching him, my hands resting on my stomach. The secret I was holding felt heavier every day, but I didn't want to add to his burden—especially not tonight.

"They're using the serum," Bucky said, stopping in front of the window. "Do you know what that does to people? What it did to me?"

I stood up, walking over to him. "Bucky, you're not that person anymore. The serum didn't define you."

He shook his head, his fists clenched at his sides. "You don't understand. That serum... it takes away your choices. It makes you a weapon."

I reached out, placing a hand on his back. "You've fought every day to make your own choices, to be the man you want to be. That's what matters."

His shoulders slumped, and for the first time that night, he looked at me. His eyes were filled with so much pain, so much doubt. "What if I can't stop them? What if it happens all over again?"

I swallowed hard, my own heart aching for him. "You're not alone in this, Bucky. You've got me, you've got Sam. We'll figure it out. You don't have to carry this by yourself."

He exhaled sharply, turning away from me to stare out the window. The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable. I wanted to say more, to tell him that I believed in him, that I loved him, but it felt like my words weren't enough to break through the wall he had built around himself tonight.

Instead, I stayed quiet, giving him the space he needed, even though every instinct in me wanted to reach out and hold him, to tell him about the life growing inside me—the future we were building together, even if he didn't know it yet.

---

An hour passed before Bucky finally sat down, his body sagging against the edge of the bed. I joined him, our legs almost touching but not quite. He hadn't said anything, but I could see he was exhausted—physically, emotionally, mentally.

"I hate this," he said after a long moment, his voice barely a whisper.

"Hate what?" I asked gently.

He stared down at his hands, as if they held all the answers. "Hate that no matter how far I get from my past, it always finds a way to pull me back. The serum, the Winter Soldier... it's like a shadow I can't shake."

I rested a hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. "You're more than what they made you, Bucky. You've proven that over and over again."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Have I? Because right now, I don't feel like I'm doing enough. I don't feel like I'll ever be able to make up for what I've done."

My heart broke hearing him say that. I wanted to tell him everything—about the baby, about how I believed he could be the father he wanted to be, that we had a future beyond all of this darkness. But I held back, unsure if he could handle it right now.

"You're doing more than you know," I said softly, leaning my head against his shoulder. "Every day you choose to fight for what's right, to protect people... that matters. That's enough."

He didn't say anything, but his hand found mine, squeezing gently. For now, that was enough.

---

As Bucky drifted off to sleep beside me, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my hand resting on my stomach. Every day, the secret I was holding felt heavier, but I just couldn't bring myself to tell him yet. Not when he was carrying so much already.

I had imagined the moment so many times—how his face would light up when I told him he was going to be a father, how we'd laugh and cry together, planning for the future. But now? Now it felt like we were caught in the middle of a storm, and I wasn't sure if adding this to his load would be a blessing or a curse.

"I'll tell him soon," I whispered to myself, gently rubbing my stomach. "When the time is right."

But deep down, I wasn't sure when that time would come. I just hoped it would be soon—before it was too late to celebrate the life we were creating together.

For now, I would keep my secret, and I would be his anchor. Because that's what he needed most, even if it wasn't what I wanted.