Run (A Bucky Barnes Recovery Story)

88 Memories

The Winter Soldier relived his entire life over and over and over, now that he knew the whole story. He tried, like Steve encouraged him to do, to focus on the good memories. The times when he was happy and whole. And he did make an effort to think of them often, to smile, to remember being more than this, but more often than not, he was dragged under into memories of murder and pain and staring at metal bars and cement walls.

And it was difficult not to think about it. He dwelled on it, he wallowed in it. Remembering was a certain sort of torture he could give himself and he gave it to himself often.

He remembered missions on American soil, blending in just so with his American walk and his American accent, the perfect, unassuming asset. Gunshots, blood, and not caring. Not caring at all. Then handlers, restraints, and cryofreeze if they didn’t need him anymore. He wasn’t a human being. He was a weapon and he wasn’t allowed to have things like emotions or relationships or opinions.

And sometimes, sitting there, staring off and remembering, he felt again as though those things were out of his reach and he felt inhuman.

“James Buchanan Barnes, are you listening to me?” Natalia. The Winter Soldier looked over at her and then fell over himself, scrambling, as his first instinct was to put distance between himself and her. He pressed his back to the opposite wall and looked at her, feeling like he was a weapon. He existed to kill and even though he was slowly trying to tell himself in his head that he was Bucky and he had no mission and he wouldn’t hurt her, he still felt uncomfortable with her that close to him.

James Buchanan Barnes

James Buchanan Barnes

“Yes,” he said. Natalia was staring at him.

“Did I startle you?” She asked.

James Buchanan Barnes Bucky James not a weapon; a person

“Yes,” he repeated himself and although she didn’t quite look like she believed him, she let it go. She was leaning over the kitchen counter, her elbows up, her hair in her face and he knew he couldn’t let himself tuck it behind her ear for her. Not until he had come back to himself a little more.

“Why did you leave?” She asked. He looked at her and then shook his head.

“I just… I needed to… I… Time to think. I needed time to think,” he said, and although this wasn’t untrue, it wasn’t the entire truth, he had realized as he thought more on his memories. That wasn’t all of it. The truth was, he felt too much like the Winter Soldier. He felt too inhuman and volatile and he couldn’t remember that he was free and safe. Instinct pulled at him to run, like he had at the very beginning, to be on the street, pulling hoods over his face so he couldn’t be seen and staying sleepless nights in shady motel rooms. That was what had drawn him to crawl out of his window, made him leave Steve and Natalia. He’d just felt like he should. Natalia nodded acceptingly and Bucky felt himself relax.

“You know what else I want to ask,” she added after a while and Bucky nodded, wetting his lips almost nervously and running his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I know,” he said and pursed his mouth together, looking at the ground. “There’s not a lot there, though,” he said. “Of us.” It was still painful to remember some things, like a receding headache. Not as bad as before, but still a lingering, dull ache that subsided every time he drew on his new-found memory. However, thinking about Natalia in the Red Room still brought up a painful stinging, a sharp kind that twisted inside him and there were so many holes. He remembered her so vaguely. Natalia nodded again sadly and shifted against the counter.

“I didn’t think there’d be much,” she said. “I just wanted to know.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said.

“And I don’t blame you,” she replied, looking up at him, and then she was moving around the counter and coming closer to him and he felt okay enough to let her put her hands on his waist and look up into his face. “I’m just so sorry. You deserve to know.” He didn’t know how to respond, so he only looked down at her and felt empty. It was funny now, this empty feeling, this dead feeling, because he thought that it all might be fixed when he was full again of his memories, but now it was instead worse. It was like the emptiness was heavier with his memories because it meant even with them, even more whole on the inside, he might never be okay. He would never be fully ‘fixed’. And the emptiness of years as the Winter Soldier compounded on top of him until he could now remember every second feeling dead. It was all at once overwhelming and distressing.

Soon after, Bucky was shipped a replacement arm from Stark Industries and he squared his feet and gripped the counter for balance and grit his teeth while Natalia helped him click it in. But this time, the burst of pain was expected and Bucky was able to handle the way he could taste the bright, sharp pain even inside his mouth like he’d bit something bitter and the way electricity, or at least, something that felt like being electrocuted, rocketed through his chest and when it began to dull, he realized he had pulled back a little and the fingernails in his right hand were digging into his skin. But he could move both hands and arms now, he felt, at least, a little more whole.

“Be careful this time,” Natalia said to him as he inspected his new left fingers, and he nodded a little.

“Okay,” he agreed, then Natalia seemed to get some sort of idea, but he was too occupied with his arm to notice the spark in her eyes until he heard it in her voice.

“Promise me,” she said and he almost smiled. “Promise.”

“I promise I’ll be more careful,” he said to her and, since he hadn’t lifted his eyes from his hand, she twisted her fingers in with his and he noticed gratefully how she was patient with the way his fingers were delayed and jerky about wrapping gently around hers. He wished he could genuinely feel her hand, but when he looked over into her face, he realized he could settle with feeling the warmth of her smile.