Nightingale (Sequel to Solider Boy)

Sixteen

When Bucky opened his eyes, the world was blurry and covered in shadows. When he tried to sit up, he felt hard straps hold him down. He was restrained, but the aches in his body told him that he hadn't always been that way. The attempt had failed and somehow, he'd gotten lose. Great.

"He's coming to," Bucky heard Steve's voice and tried to respond, but he couldn't find words. His mind was still too slow. "Buck can you hear me?" He still couldn't find his voice, so he merely nodded. Steve smiled though he looked very tired. "Great. You feeling okay?"

"I...don't know." His body was sore, but nothing seemed to be broken or otherwise severely damaged. "What happened? What'd I do?" He remembered some vaguely, people screaming, being knocked to the ground and then nothing. The rest would hit him later, he knew that but he didn't want to be ambushed by the memories; he preferred to be prepared. 

"The treatment didn't work and the restrain on your arm snapped. You got out."

"Oh shit."

"Hey," Steve interjected quickly as he sat down next to him, "it's not that bad. No one was seriously hurt. Worst injury was a bump on the head. We're all fine."

Bucky slumped forward as the weight came off his chest. The worst injury he'd given was just a blow to the head. That had been more than what he'd been hoping for. It could have been worse, so much worse. "Who'd I get?"

"Honestly? Just Mel. She was walking past when-."

"What?" Bucky said, his feeling of relief gone.

"Mel was the one who got the worst of it," Steve repeated. "She was in the sim and leaving the lab when you got out. She's okay though. She was even here while you were out, wanted to look over your chart."

Steve's tone was light, happy even. He was smiling, as though amused by the strange behavior of Sharon's friend. But Bucky couldn't feel any joy. He couldn't feel any relief. He couldn't feel anything, save the creeping disgust and guilt that was running rampant through his body. He'd been an idiot. He thought things hadn't been that bad, but he was wrong, he was so wrong. The only way this could have been worse was if she'd been killed.

"What did I do to her?" 

"Bucky-?"

"What did I do?" He was scared to hear the answer but waiting to find out would be even worse.

Steve jerked away at his sudden shout. "You grabbed her by the throat. I tackled you, she got dropped and hit her head. That's it. She got checked out by one of the doctors and she's fine; no broken bones, concussions or anything more serious than a few bruises." 

Bucky didn't reply. His mind was in overdrive. Images of Melody flashed into his mind, things he'd never seen but he didn't need to. The way he attacked her today was not an unknown entity, for years it had been a part of her life. So frequent she still had nightmares about it over a decade later.  Her mother had taught her to hide the bruises on her neck.

And now it had happened again, but this time, it wasn't John who'd hurt her. It was him. He was the monster. The knowledge was like a physical blow and shame warmed him from the inside out. She had spent the better part of a decade being abused, being beaten and Bucky had promised himself, promised her no one would ever lay a hand on her again. I broke my promise. Someone hurt her. I hurt her.

"Bucky?" Steve's voice reached him, but it sounded as though he was hearing him under water. "Bucky?"

"Please go," he said, amazed that he was even able to speak. "I need to be alone."

"Buck-."

"Please." Bucky wasn't arguing with Steve. He wasn't even angry. He had no room to be angry with Steve and his stubbornness. The only person who deserved anger right now was him, the only person he had any strength to be angry with was himself.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked and Bucky saw his expression was no longer stubbornly set as he prepared to fight. He was just concerned.

"Please go," he said again, his voice dull and defeated, even to his own ears. There was a crinkling of paper and Steve got to his feet. Several steps later and the sound of the door sliding open and then closing reached Bucky's ears. He looked up from his lap, stomach twisting with regret and anger. He bowed his head, tears building up in his eyes.

Melody loved him, she trusted him to keep her safe. She trusted that he would never hurt her like John had. And she'd been wrong to do it. Bucky had done to her exactly what John did so many times before. He'd gone back on the one of the only three promises he'd ever made to her. Bucky had promised her that she would never have something like that happen to her again. And it had, and worse still, it had been his hands doing it. 

Bucky blinked, feeling tears burn his face. He reached into his pocket, the small ring inside suddenly ten times heavier. He stared at the small band, but it didn't motivate him now, as it had when he'd first pulled it from his nightstand. Now it just filled him with guilt.

He'd found something, finally to work towards. Something concrete that freedom could give him.  A future with Melody.  Despite all this attempts, he'd never been able to get the image of her wearing his mother's ring out of his head. Bucky knew it was improbable, that she was not that woman anymore than he was that sort of man. And yet he couldn't go of how badly he wanted that vision to be real.

He still did but now he knew it would never come to pass. Not even if he did get this junk out of his head. He had been someone who she felt safe with, safe enough to fall asleep in his arms, but it wouldn't be like that now. Some part of her, because of this would be afraid of him-and nothing would change it.

  Bucky closed his hand around the ring, straightened his shoulders and tried to breathe. The action was harder than it should have been.

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