Run (A Bucky Barnes Recovery Story)

26 Relate

Eventually, Bucky fell into sleep, although it wasn't without the haunting images of Hydra. When he woke up, there was daylight outside. He had been covered in blankets and comforters of all kinds, but had evidently kicked them off in his fitful sleep. Part of him wanted to grab them all and cover himself back up, but he didn't want to go back to sleep and he could hear Steve and Natasha in the other room, quietly talking to each other. He stood slowly and carefully, as not to make much noise, and pushed himself off the bed. His right hand sang with pain and he looked down to see that it was bandaged. Bucky remembered his haircutting experience and reached up to touch his head, trying to feel how hacked it was. He couldn't see, but it felt pretty bad and he groaned. He'd have to go back to another barber shop, try to get it fixed. He wondered how closely he'd have to crop it. At least it's not in my eyes anymore, he thought with a sort of dark, miserable version of optimism and he couldn't quite make himself smile.

Bucky hesitated in front of the door. He could hear Natasha and Steve's mumbled words through it. Bucky pressed his ear against the door and listened. For a while, they talked about things of no real interest and it was clear that they were both distracted. There was a long silence.

"It's like I did this to him myself," Steve said with a hollow laugh. Of course, they were talking about him.

"Don't be ridiculous," Natasha said gently. "Don't do this to yourself, Steve." Steve was silent.

Bucky looked down and sucked in a breath, pulling himself away from the door a little. He didn't know how to feel. He knew Steve blamed himself, he wanted to make Steve stop and a piece of him amidst the shards that made him up on the inside wanted to yell at him and be angry because how come Steve couldn't see that Bucky was trying so hard not to let himself fall apart? How could he take all the blame for decades when he slept? It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair to Steve and it wasn't fair to Bucky. There's already been so much pain, Bucky thought. Don't sit there and make more of it because you feel bad. Don't... Just be happy, for me.

If anything, if anything at all, Steve Rogers deserved to be happy and Bucky knew that.

Bucky didn't know if he wanted the barrage of words and questions with no answers that he would face when he opened the door, but drawing his strength from some quickly drying well inside of him, he pulled it open and stood there under the frame, listening as Steve's words died in the air and two heads turned to stare at him.

"Bucky, you're awake," Steve said. He stood up and tried to approach him, but Bucky found himself taking a step back for every step that Steve took forward and Steve halted. "Are you... How do you feel?" Bucky didn't answer. He looked away and shrugged. He wanted to know how bad his hair looked. He remembered Steve saying Bucky's appearance used to give him confidence. He didn't feel confident now. "Are you hungry? We made lunch," Steve added gently.

"How long was I asleep?" Bucky asked. He knew he often avoided questions, even little ones, like lunch. He was just finding more and more that he was uncomfortable with small talk.

"A good fourteen hours or so," Natasha said. "It's one in the afternoon now." Bucky looked at the ground and nodded.

"I'm-" sorry. He stopped himself, he didn't go further and the silence that followed seemed to finish the sentiment for him. "We were going to, we were supposed to get started on the mission, but I-" He stopped himself again, but this time because he wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

"What mission?" Steve said and Bucky realized with a settling of the pain over him that he hadn't wanted Steve to know. "Who's sending you on any missions?" There was another silence and Bucky refused to meet Steve's eye. Natasha pursed her lips together.

"Don't worry about it, Bucky, you're in no shape to worry about it, we'll deal with it later," she said quietly.

"I want to know what mission Fury's sending you on," Steve said. He was beginning to sound angry. Bucky looked up at him, feeling hollowed out, and decided to come clean. He wanted to apologize. He didn't want to put this on Steve.

"I just wanted the attacks to stop," he said quietly. "They weren't, they wouldn't stop chasing me, I was, I was, it was like-" hell. Again. "They were going to catch me again eventually. So I... Talked to Fury. Got some back-up. I'm trying to stop them now." Bucky realized as he said the words, his voice dead and his face empty that he didn't sound like he could stop anything. Steve stared at Bucky for a very long time. He looked as though he was putting pieces together and it was killing him.

"Your cheek," he said.

"They were ganging up on me," Bucky said.

"Why didn't you tell me," Steve said and he sounded so... He sounded betrayed. His voice was hurt. He wasn't hardly asking the question, he was just putting the words out there, in the air, like he couldn't bare to have them inside of him. Bucky swallowed as he stared at Natasha's carpet. This was the last thing he had wanted for Steve.

"I was trying to, to-" protect you! "I-I wanted to... Spare you-"

"Spare me?! Spare me," Steve cried loudly, cutting Bucky off. He laughed and Bucky closed his eyes. Steve rubbed his face with his hands. "Spare me," he said to himself quietly, as though he couldn't believe it. "You... You are getting attacked and... You wanted to spare me. Spare me what, Bucky?" Bucky squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He rubbed his eyes with his hand. He wanted to get out of there. He had never wanted anything like this. It was all his fault, he'd said something, he'd scared Steve now, Steve would be afraid for him, would worry about him, when what Steve needed to do was leave him and never turn back. But, Bucky realized, he wasn't letting him. Bucky clung to Steve, even as he pushed him away. Why do I do this, he chastised himself in his head. I deserved... I deserved... All of it.

During the silence, Natasha had stood now. She approached Bucky and Bucky let her lead him out into the open room and sit him down in a chair, her hands on his shoulders, her face blank and her mouth a straight line. Natasha didn't deserve this either, this finding him on the street half-insane, this feeling of responsibility she seemed to have for him, the way she took him in, she didn't deserve it like Steve didn't deserve it.

"Go get your electric razor, Steve," she said and although Steve looked as though he wanted to argue, but he left her apartment slowly and silently. While he was gone, Natasha ran her hands through Bucky's hair and pulled gently at parts, getting out a comb and trying to see exactly how short he had cut it in several places. Bucky sat motionless, appreciating being handled gently, like he mattered, and he knew he shouldn't want her touching him because he didn't deserve that. But he couldn't get up the will to fight her.

"Relapses just happen sometimes, Bucky," she said quietly. Bucky nodded.

"I thought I was...," he said. "I thought I was getting better."

"You are," she replied. "But there are going to be road bumps, there are going to be setbacks."

It was a while before Bucky could respond.

"I don't know if I can do it," he said. Natasha sighed and put her comb down.

"That's why we're here," she replied after a time. "We'll help you."

"You can't help me," he said, like a knee-jerk reaction, and she sighed.

"You have to let yourself be loved, Bucky," she asked and that was when Bucky realized that they really could relate to one another. He just wished it could be over breadsticks and strawberries, not... This.