Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 63 - Beneath the Weight

The sun was setting, casting a blood-red hue over the square. The day had felt endless, one brutal moment bleeding into the next. Bucky's face was set in a grim line as we walked together, side by side. He hadn't said much since the confrontation with Walker, and honestly, I couldn't blame him. I was still reeling from it myself.

When we finally saw Walker standing ahead, my stomach churned. He was standing there, the shield still gripped tightly in his hands, his entire body tense and rigid. The shield—the blood on it hadn't been cleaned. It was still there, a reminder of the horror that had unfolded. My eyes couldn't stop staring at it. The weight of that blood felt suffocating, as though it was closing in around us.

"We need to get that shield back," Sam said, his voice low as he joined us. "He's not fit to carry it anymore."

Bucky nodded, but his eyes never left Walker. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel it vibrating through my own body, every instinct screaming that something bad was about to happen.

"I'll handle it," Bucky said quietly.

"No, we handle it together," Sam replied, stepping forward, his shoulders squared.

As we approached, Walker's eyes locked on us, and I could see the madness in them, the darkness that had overtaken him. "You don't deserve this," Bucky called out, his voice a low growl. His words were sharp, each one dripping with disappointment and anger.

Walker's jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the shield. He looked at Bucky, then at Sam, and finally, his gaze landed on me. "You need to stay out of this, Emily," Walker sneered, his eyes flashing with anger. "This is between me and them."

I didn't back down. "This isn't about you, John," I replied, my voice steady despite the fear gripping my chest. "This is about what the shield represents. And right now, it represents everything it shouldn't."

His face twisted into a sneer. "You think you know what this shield stands for?" he snapped. "You think you can decide what it means?"

"Steve knew," Bucky said, stepping forward, his eyes hard. "And you're not him."

For a moment, the fury in Walker's face was palpable. He took a step toward Bucky, raising the shield slightly as though he was preparing for a fight. I could feel my heart race, my palms clammy with fear. I knew Bucky could handle himself, but Walker was unpredictable now. There was no telling what he might do.

---

Suddenly, the tension snapped like a taut wire. Walker lunged at Bucky, and everything erupted into chaos.

Bucky moved quickly, dodging the first swing of the shield. The clang of metal echoed through the square as Walker swung it again, harder this time. Sam rushed forward, trying to intervene, but Walker was relentless. He fought like a man possessed, his movements wild and uncontrolled.

"Bucky!" I shouted, my heart in my throat as I watched the fight unfold. The sound of metal against metal was deafening, and every time the shield came down, my entire body tensed. I felt helpless, standing on the sidelines, unable to do anything but watch. I wanted to step in, to help, but I knew I couldn't. This was their fight.

Walker threw a punch, catching Bucky across the jaw, sending him stumbling back. But Bucky recovered quickly, swinging his Vibranium arm to block the next attack. The two of them clashed with a force that shook the ground beneath their feet. I could see the strain on Bucky's face, the desperation as he fought to disarm Walker without causing more harm than necessary.

Sam, meanwhile, circled around, trying to catch Walker off guard. "We don't have to do this!" he shouted, but Walker wasn't listening. He was too far gone, too consumed by his rage.

Walker swung the shield again, and this time, it connected with Bucky's side. He grunted in pain, but he didn't back down. Instead, he used the momentum to his advantage, grabbing Walker by the arm and flipping him to the ground. For a moment, I thought it was over.

But Walker wasn't finished.

With a roar of fury, he kicked Bucky off him, scrambling back to his feet. The shield was back in his hands in an instant, and he swung it toward Sam. Sam barely had time to react, using his wings to deflect the blow, but it sent him sprawling to the ground.

"Enough, Walker!" I screamed, my voice hoarse. "This isn't what the shield is meant for!"

He ignored me, his attention focused solely on Bucky and Sam. I could see the madness in his eyes, the way his movements were growing more erratic with each passing second. He wasn't going to stop. Not until he had destroyed everything in his path.

"Bucky!" I shouted again, panic rising in my chest.

Bucky's eyes flicked to me for a brief second before he focused back on the fight. He dodged another swing of the shield and then lunged forward, tackling Walker to the ground. The two of them grappled for control of the shield, the sound of their struggle filling the square.

It was brutal. Every hit, every punch felt like it was tearing something apart inside of me. Watching Bucky fight like this, watching him struggle against a man who was supposed to represent everything good and noble—it broke something in me.

Finally, with one last surge of strength, Bucky managed to rip the shield from Walker's grasp. He stood over him, chest heaving, the shield in his hands, his eyes filled with both sorrow and anger.

---

For a moment, everything went still. The fight was over, but the silence that followed felt heavier than the battle itself.

Bucky stood there, staring down at the shield in his hands. The blood that stained it was a stark reminder of the cost of this fight, the weight of the legacy that had been tainted by Walker's actions. I could see the conflict in Bucky's eyes, the way his hands trembled as he held the shield.

"It's not supposed to be like this," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "It was never supposed to be like this."

I stepped forward, slowly, carefully, as though approaching a wounded animal. "Bucky," I said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "You did what you had to do."

He didn't look at me, his gaze fixed on the shield. "Steve believed in this. He believed in what it stood for. And now... now look at it."

I could see the pain in his eyes, the way the weight of the shield seemed to press down on him. It wasn't just about the fight. It was about everything the shield represented, everything that had been lost.

"This isn't the end," I said, my voice steady even though my heart was breaking for him. "You can still honor what it was meant to stand for. You can still carry on Steve's legacy."

He finally looked at me, his eyes haunted. "I don't know if I can," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "I'm not Steve. I'm not the man he was."

"You don't have to be Steve," I told him, stepping closer, my hand resting gently on his. "You just have to be you. And you've already proven that you're worthy of that shield."

He stared at me for a long moment, as though trying to process my words, trying to believe them. "It feels tainted," he said quietly, his gaze flicking back to the blood on the shield. "Everything Steve stood for..."

I shook my head, squeezing his hand. "The shield is a symbol, Bucky. It's the man who wields it that defines what it stands for. And you? You've fought so hard to be more than what they made you. You've chosen a different path, and that's what makes you worthy."

His eyes softened, the tension in his body slowly beginning to ease. He looked down at the shield once more, and I could see the shift in him, the slow realization that maybe—just maybe—he could be more than what he had been.

"I'll try," he whispered, his voice barely a breath. "For you."

I smiled, tears brimming in my eyes as I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. "That's all I ask."

As we stood there, in the aftermath of the battle, I knew that this was just the beginning. There was so much more ahead of us—so much more to fight for. But for now, we had the shield. And together, we would find a way to carry on the legacy that Steve had entrusted to Bucky.