Run (A Bucky Barnes Recovery Story)

52 Self-Sacrificing

The test results of his blood came back rather confused, as Bucky had expected them to, the next day.

“We don’t understand exactly what makes your blood so unusual,” the paper said. “But it definitely is strange. If you’d like us to do more tests, we can be contacted at-” But Bucky threw the paper away before he was even quite finished. It didn’t tell him anything new.

He met Steve and Natasha at Steve’s apartment that day. He had been thinking the previous night about plans and helicopters and fighting back and something occurred to him. They could have the upper hand in this situation, if they played their cards right. If they could use this information and play along, Bucky realized, they might be able to follow the helicopter back to Hydra’s base. Or, at least, get more information on where to find them. Either way, if Bucky could somehow go along with their plan for a while and ignore the way he felt like throwing up when he thought about it, maybe they could advance their position.

“If they’re pulling out all the stops,” Bucky said to Steve and Natasha over Steve’s coffee table. “Why shouldn’t we? We can take this to our advantage,” Bucky continued. “We could follow that helicopter back to wherever it came from and maybe learn a thing or two from this.” Steve and Natasha stared.

“That’s brave of you, Bucky,” Natasha said finally in a quiet voice. “Clever, too.”

“Absolutely not!” Steve cried loudly. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we find where they planned on taking me,” Bucky said, undaunted. “And show them what we’re made of.”

“I don’t know,” Natasha was saying. “That’s risky. What are you going to do, just let them take you aboard, pretend to be out cold?”

“Don’t you think the idea has merit?” Bucky asked.

“No, it does,” Natasha agreed.

“There’s too many things that could go wrong!” Steve cried. He seemed panicked now that Natasha was agreeing too. “Bucky-”

“So lets work out the kinks,” Bucky interrupted him. “Maybe this way, we can get my arm back.” That was a hopeful thought. Hydra had tried to control him again when they took his arm, tried to claim his very body. He wasn’t going to let them do that. He wanted his arm back.

“But what if something goes wrong, there’s too much on the line!” Steve replied.

“How could we not use this information to our advantage?” Bucky cried in response.

“We are,” Steve said. “We’re getting you to safety.” Bucky stopped, halting the rapid-fire responses between him and Steve. He ground his teeth, clenching his fist and looking away for a moment to gather his temper. He needed to make Steve understand. He looked back now and responded slowly, in a low voice.

“But this is my fight,” Bucky replied.

These are my nightmares and my tormentors.

This is my hell and I need to wash it away myself.

Bucky believed he understood now a little of what Steve felt when Bucky defended him again and again years ago, fists up and tough as nails, but too small to do any damage. Bucky had once felt overwhelming desire to protect Steve, to fight his battles for him. It was a feeling that lingered, that he caught ghost glimpses of at times when he remembered snippets of their childhood. Now, it seemed as though their roles had switched and Bucky felt somehow shameful about it. I had him on the ropes. This isn’t about me.

Right. Cause you got nothing to prove.

Bucky could feel memories beginning to brim around the edges of a dam in his mind and he didn’t know what he would do if it burst. Thinking, he sighed at Steve, who was searching his face, a deep concern in his eyes.

“You can’t take these risks,” Steve said. “You can’t put everything on the line as though we’ve got nothing to lose.”

“But haven’t we, though?” Bucky replied darkly, darker than he’d meant to, staring unblinking into Steve’s eyes, his voice gruff. Steve stared at him and Natasha let out a long breath, leaning forward on the table. Bucky didn’t realize how much he meant it until he’d said it. He really had nothing to lose, other than his freedom, but he would fight to the death for that and death it may be. He had accepted that.

You don’t want to lose me, but geez, Steve, can’t you see you’ve already lost me? A long time ago. There’s nothing else left to lose now.

Steve looked down and scrubbed his face with both hands again like he did when he was upset or overwhelmed and his eyes were growing red. Bucky realized that he knew that Steve had always done that. He even did that when he was a kid. Huh, Bucky thought, watching him. Funny what brings back memories sometimes, bits and pieces, dripping over the dam. It was beginning to give Bucky a headache.

“Look,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. “We get your friends with the wings in on this, work out a foolproof plan, and we end up better off than we started. I want to do this, okay?”

“You’re sure you’d be comfortable with it?” Natasha asked quietly and Bucky nodded. I’ll have to be.

“Yes,” he said and she looked at him as though she wanted something from him. Oh, he realized. She still wanted that promise. He saw again in his head the picture she had painted of the two of them while she curled up under his arm, her warmth and presence comforting him. He wished he could promise her. Bucky stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly on the floor, overwhelmed in an instant with how he was constantly disappointing, consistent in the fashion of letting them down, and his head was splitting and both Natasha and Steve looked up, following him, confused. All Bucky knew was that he wanted to leave. He wanted to run.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha said.

I can’t promise you, Bucky thought.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m going home.”

“I thought you wanted to talk about this?” Steve said, standing too, as Bucky began to back out of the room.

I can’t remember the person you used to love, Bucky thought.

“We will later,” he said. “Goodbye, Steve.” And Bucky whirled around and hurried to the door, slamming it behind him solely because of the momentum he was already picking up, and breaking into a run.

The Winter Soldier walked. He was unconflicted and unworried. He was dangerous and deadly and chaos aligned. But James Buchanan Barnes, the one after the Winter Soldier’s hellfire and decades of massacre, was none of these things. Bucky ran.