Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 71 - Finishing the List

Sitting next to Bucky in Dr. Raynor's office, I can feel the tension radiating off him. His hands are clasped tightly around the small, worn notebook, the one that has been haunting him for as long as I can remember. He doesn't look at me, his eyes focused on the floor, as if the weight of everything inside those pages is too much to bear.

I rest my hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to do this all at once," I say quietly, even though I know that today, he's determined to close this chapter. "There's no rush."

He glances at me, his jaw tight. "No," he says, his voice rough. "I need to finish it."

I nod, leaning back in my chair, letting him know I'm here. I'm always here. But inside, I'm wrestling with my own secret—the one I've been carrying for three months now. Every time I think about telling him, something pulls me back. It's never the right time. There's always something more pressing, more painful for him to deal with. I can't add to his burden.

Dr. Raynor leans forward slightly in her chair, watching Bucky with that steady, analytical gaze of hers. "How are you feeling, Bucky?" she asks, her voice soft, but probing.

Bucky doesn't answer right away. He's still looking down at the notebook, as if the answer lies somewhere in its pages. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, hesitant.

"It's done," he says, his fingers tracing the edges of the notebook. "I've crossed off all the names. I've... I've made amends."

Dr. Raynor nods, her expression unreadable. "That's a significant step," she says. "How does it feel?"

He hesitates again, his brow furrowing. "Empty," he admits after a long pause. "I thought it would feel different. I thought..."

He trails off, and I know what he's thinking. He thought this would bring closure, that by finishing the list, he could finally move on from his past. But it's not that simple. It never is.

"You've done what you set out to do," Dr. Raynor says, leaning forward slightly. "But that doesn't mean the pain goes away overnight. Healing isn't a checklist, Bucky. It's a process."

Bucky exhales slowly, his shoulders slumping as he leans back in the chair. He looks exhausted, like the weight of the world is still pressing down on him. And in many ways, it is.

---

Dr. Raynor keeps her gaze steady on Bucky, watching him with a mix of professionalism and something that feels more personal—compassion, maybe. She's seen him through so much, through his darkest moments, and I know she understands the weight of what he's done.

"You've come a long way," she says gently, not letting Bucky off the hook, but also not pushing him too hard. "But there's still work to be done. Just because you've made amends doesn't mean the guilt will disappear."

Bucky nods, though his expression is distant, as if he's not quite sure what to do now that the list is complete. "It's just... I thought finishing this would fix things," he admits, his voice cracking just slightly.

I reach out, taking his hand in mine. "It doesn't fix everything," I say softly. "But it's a start."

Dr. Raynor smiles faintly, nodding in agreement. "Emily's right. This is a huge step, Bucky. You've taken responsibility for your past, and that's something most people would run from. But now... now you have to figure out how to live with it."

Bucky's gaze shifts to me for a moment, and I see the conflict in his eyes. He's still struggling with how to be the man he wants to be, how to reconcile the monster he was with the person he's trying to become. I see it every day, the way he carries that weight.

"How do I do that?" Bucky asks, his voice so quiet I almost miss it. "How do I live with it?"

Dr. Raynor doesn't answer right away. She lets the question hang in the air for a moment, giving it the weight it deserves. "You already are," she finally says, her tone calm, but firm. "Every day you choose to be more than what you were. That's how you live with it."

I squeeze Bucky's hand again, hoping he knows I'm here, that I believe in him, even when he doesn't believe in himself.

---

Later that evening, we head to Sam's family home for a small gathering. The scent of fresh seafood and laughter fills the air as we walk toward the docks where Sam's sister, Sarah, is setting up for dinner. The sight of the sun setting over the water, casting everything in a soft, warm glow, brings a sense of peace I haven't felt in a while. It's a welcome change from the heavy weight of everything we've been dealing with.

Bucky is quieter than usual, though that's not surprising. Today has been emotionally draining, and I know he's still processing what happened with Yori, what it means to have finally finished the list. He's not quite sure where he stands now, and I don't blame him.

As we approach the gathering, Sam greets us with a grin, waving us over to the table. "Hey, you two! Glad you could make it."

Bucky offers a small smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Wouldn't miss it," he says, his voice a little flat.

I step closer to Bucky, resting my hand on his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. "You okay?" I ask quietly, leaning in so no one else can hear.

He nods, though I'm not convinced. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Just... thinking."

I don't press him. Instead, I turn my attention to the table, helping Sarah set out plates and utensils as the rest of the group gathers. There's a sense of normalcy here, a feeling of belonging that's been missing from our lives for so long. It's almost surreal, standing here among friends, laughing and joking, while the weight of everything we've been through lingers in the background.

As we sit down to eat, Bucky remains quiet, his gaze distant as he watches the others joke and banter. I know he's struggling to find his place in all of this, in this new reality where he's no longer the Winter Soldier, but he's not quite sure who he is either.

I lean over, placing my hand on his knee under the table. "You're doing great," I whisper, offering him a small smile.

He glances at me, his expression softening just a little. "Thanks," he whispers back, his hand covering mine briefly.

The dinner goes on, the laughter and conversation flowing around us. I watch Bucky slowly start to relax, his shoulders loosening, his face softening as he listens to Sam and Sarah recount childhood stories, their voices filled with nostalgia and warmth. It's moments like this that remind me there's hope. That we're building something new together.

---

But even in this peaceful moment, my own secret weighs heavily on me. I glance at Bucky as he laughs at something Sam says, and my heart clenches. Three months. I've known for three months now, and still, I haven't told him. I don't know why I'm waiting. Maybe it's fear. Maybe it's the uncertainty of how he'll react. Or maybe it's the fact that I don't want to add to the burden he's already carrying.

I shake off the thoughts for now. This is Bucky's night, his moment to breathe after everything he's been through. I'll find the right time to tell him. I have to.

As the night winds down, Bucky seems more at ease, his smile coming more naturally now. He pulls me close as we walk away from the gathering, the cool night air brushing against our skin.

"You okay?" I ask, looking up at him.

He nods, a real smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah," he says softly. "I think I'm gonna be."

And for the first time in a long time, I believe him.