Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 70 - The Weight of Truth

The weight of what was about to happen hung heavily over us as we stood outside Yori Nakajima's apartment. I could feel the tension in Bucky's hand, gripping mine a little too tightly. I didn't say anything though—I knew this was how he anchored himself. He needed to feel something real, something tangible, before facing what he was about to do. I let him hold on as long as he needed to.

Bucky stood there, his breath shallow. I could feel his pulse racing just by how he held himself. He looked at me briefly, the look of a man who had fought so hard to right his wrongs, and now had to face the hardest truth of all. My chest ached for him.

"You don't have to do this alone," I said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek. He flinched slightly but leaned into my touch. I saw the pain in his eyes—the weight of his past crashing into his present.

"I do, Em," he whispered, his voice so broken I almost didn't recognize it. "I have to."

I nodded, even though my heart screamed for him to leave, to run from the pain that was about to unfold. But I knew he wouldn't. That's not who he was anymore. Bucky had spent years haunted by the things he had done as the Winter Soldier, trying to make amends in every way he could. Yori was the final name on his list—the hardest one.

"Okay," I whispered back, giving his hand one last squeeze before letting go. I stepped aside, giving him the space he needed.

He knocked on the door, and I could feel him tense even more. His shoulders were stiff, his posture rigid. I wanted to take that pain from him, to shoulder it for even a second, but I couldn't. This was his burden, and mine was my own—the secret I was holding inside me. But I wasn't going to tell him. Not yet. Not with everything else weighing him down.

Yori answered the door with a smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw Bucky. "Ah, Bucky! Emily!" he greeted warmly. "Come in, come in."

Bucky forced a smile, but I could see the strain in his eyes, the battle inside him raging more violently than ever.

"Thanks, Yori," Bucky said, his voice tight, almost mechanical. I knew he was preparing himself for what was coming.

---

We followed Yori into the apartment, the familiarity of it making my stomach turn. I had been here before, seen the easy camaraderie between Bucky and Yori. They had shared meals together, talked about everything under the sun, but never about the one thing that hung like a shadow between them.

Bucky sat down across from Yori, his hands clenched together tightly in his lap. I stayed close, but gave them space. Bucky needed to do this his way, and I had to trust him. But the sight of him sitting there, struggling to find the words, broke my heart.

"What's on your mind, Bucky?" Yori asked kindly, sitting across from him with his usual warm demeanor. He had no idea what was coming, and that made it even harder to watch.

Bucky's jaw clenched. He looked down at his hands, his fingers digging into his palms as if he were trying to hold onto his sanity. Finally, he lifted his head and met Yori's eyes, and I could see the turmoil there—the need for redemption and the terror of what that redemption would cost.

"I have to tell you something, Yori," Bucky started, his voice low and strained. "About your son."

Yori's face changed in an instant. Confusion flickered across his features as he frowned, trying to understand what Bucky was saying.

"My son?" Yori echoed, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Bucky swallowed hard, his eyes filled with regret and pain. "I was the one who killed him," he said quietly, the words hitting the air like a punch to the gut. "I was the Winter Soldier."

The room went silent. Yori stared at Bucky, uncomprehending at first, then the weight of Bucky's words seemed to sink in. His face twisted in confusion, then horror, then disbelief.

"What... what are you saying?" Yori's voice trembled as he stood, his body visibly shaking. "My son... you..." His words faltered, lost beneath the shock.

"I didn't have a choice," Bucky said, his voice breaking, but it was clear even to me that the explanation wasn't enough—not for Yori, not for anyone. "I was under HYDRA's control, but that doesn't change what I did. I took him from you. And I'm so sorry."

Yori's eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment, I thought he might collapse under the weight of it all. I stepped forward instinctively, but stopped myself. This was between them.

"No," Yori said, shaking his head slowly, as if denying the truth could somehow make it less real. "No, it can't be... not you, Bucky..."

Bucky looked at him, his eyes filled with grief. "I wish it wasn't true," he whispered. "But it is. I was the one."

---

The shock hit Yori like a physical blow. His body trembled, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "No," he repeated, his voice breaking. "How could you... how could you do this to me? How could you... take my son?"

Tears welled in my eyes as I watched Yori fall apart, and I wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but I didn't know how. Nothing I could say or do would make this any easier.

"I was... I was a weapon," Bucky said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I wasn't in control. But that doesn't excuse it. I've lived with this... with what I did... every day."

Yori turned away from us, his back hunched as sobs racked his body. He gripped the edge of the table as if it were the only thing holding him upright.

"I trusted you," Yori cried, his voice raw. "I trusted you, Bucky... you were my friend..."

Bucky's face twisted with guilt and shame. "I know," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "And I'm so sorry."

Yori's sobs filled the room, and I couldn't hold back anymore. I stepped forward, placing a hand on Yori's shoulder, though I knew it was a small, meaningless gesture in the face of his pain.

"I didn't want to tell you," Bucky continued, his voice shaking. "But you deserved to know the truth. I owe you that."

Yori slowly turned to face Bucky, his face wet with tears, his expression filled with anguish. "Why?" he whispered, his voice broken. "Why did you take him from me?"

Bucky's head hung low, his shoulders slumped under the weight of Yori's grief. "I wish I had an answer," he said quietly. "But I don't."

Yori stared at him for a long moment, and then, with a sudden surge of emotion, he slammed his hands down on the table, his face contorted with fury.

"Get out!" Yori shouted, his voice filled with so much pain it made my heart shatter. "Get out of my house!"

Bucky stood slowly, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with sorrow. He looked at me for a moment, lost and broken, and I nodded. We needed to leave.

I reached for his hand, and together, we walked out the door, leaving Yori behind with his grief, knowing that nothing we could say or do would ever fix the damage that had been done.

As we stepped into the cold air outside, Bucky stopped, his body shaking. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him as tightly as I could.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky," I whispered, though I knew my words were small, insignificant in the face of everything he was feeling.

"I didn't think it would be this hard," he said, his voice barely audible. "But I had to tell him. He deserved the truth."

I nodded, pressing my face against his chest. "You did the right thing," I whispered, even though it felt like the world had just broken apart.

And still, I couldn't tell him. Not yet. Not now.