Soldiers Aren't Supposed To Cry

Chapter 11

"Oh God, okay. You're fine, Buck, you're fine. You've had these before, you can get through it again." The soldier whispers to himself, trying to calm the overwhelming sense of panic running through his body. He attempts to keep talking himself through it, but closes his mouth when the nausea becomes too much to handle. His hands shakily run through his hair, trying to find some grip on reality. Goosebumps form on his arms and he tries to control his breathing, failing as the walls seem to close in. Bucky jumps up from his bed and throws on a shirt, quickly pulling a jacket over it and walking out of his room. He speeds down the hallway, throwing on some shoes before slipping out the back door of the tower. Bucky lightly scratches at his chest, trying to get rid of the burning pain and he wanders somewhat aimlessly through the streets, until the sound of rushing water tells him where he is. The soldier pulls out his phone and shakily dials a number, praying that the kid is still awake.

"Parker Peter, at your service." The teen grumbles, eyes still closed from being woken up at this hour.

"Um, H-hey Peter." Bucky whispers, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

"What's up Uncle Bucky? It's like," Peter pauses, looking sleepily at his clock. "3:19 am. Is something wrong?"

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry." The teen's brows furrow in confusion, and he sits up in his bed trying to process everything

"For what?" Bucky sighs and this question makes the guilt in his stomach worse.

"Everything."

"You have nothing to be sorry about?" Peter answers, the only thing he can think of is almost punching him during that Civil War fiasco.

"Yeah I do, kid. I have a lot of things to be sorry about."

"I don't get why this is a necessary call at 3:20 am."

"I'm saying goodbye, Peter."

"Well where are you going?"

"Home."

"You're going back to Brooklyn?"

"You remember that quote, 'I've grown to realize that sometimes home isn't just a place, but a person.' from that book we read a couple months ago?"

"Yeah, you said it was the first piece of literature you'd liked since the 40's."

"I um, I finally understand that now."

"Wait, when you said you're going home, you don't mean-"

"This is my goodbye Peter, I just wanted to hear your voice again."

"Wait, Uncle Bucky, wai-" And with that, Bucky hangs up, tears slowly making their way down his face as he stares at the blank screen of his phone. He puts his phone in his pocket and stares out, looking at the bright lights of the city that faded as he walked farther away. As he wanders aimlessly on the sidewalk, suffering a smaller brethren of the large panic attack he had earlier, his phone vibrates another five times. Bucky looks at his phone to see a multitude of texts and calls, not only from Peter, but also from Tony, Bruce and Wanda.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Peter told me he's worried about you."

"Uncle Bucky please answer me."

"What's going on? Are you okay?"

He sighs before shutting off his phone again, ignoring the texts and missed calls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come on, come on, come on." Wanda begs, her leg bouncing as she holds the phone to her ear. It rings a few times before going to voicemail, the signature "This is Bucky! Sorry I can't get to the phone cause I'm either making bad decisions or teaching Cap a lesson, leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!" playing quietly through her phone's speakers. "Dammit!"

"Let me try." Nat whispers, pulling out her phone and dialing one of the numbers she knows by heart. It only takes a few rings before a voice answers at the other end, relief flooding through Natasha.

"Yeah?" Bucky answers.

"Jesus Christ Buck, you scared us half to death." Natasha sighs, giving a reassured look to the rest of the team.

"You guys were annoying me so I decided I'd pick up the next one."

"Bucky, where are you? I'm taking you back to the tower." Nat asks, standing up and grabbing her keys, walking to the garage where she jumps in her car.

"How could he say that?" A confused look grows on her face before she responds.

"What?"

"How can Steve say that he wants me to move on, live without him? How can he say that he wants me to do something with my life when I spent 72 YEARS BEING TORTURED FOR REMEMBERING HIM?! HE WAS ALL I HAD!" Bucky cries, his sobs ringing through to the other end of the phone. "All I had, for 72 years, were patchy memories of the same guy. Every night, after having the shit electrocuted out of me, I would cry myself to sleep and dream about this guy I'd never met, this guy I felt so close to yet at the same time a thousand miles apart. How does he think I can move on from that?"

"I don't know Buck, but I need you to tell me where you are."

"Don't you have that tracker thi-"

"You uninstalled it." She pauses, listening closely to the background. Once she hears the sloshing of water, she continues. "I can hear rushing water."

"Nat-"

"Where are you?!" He sighs before giving her an answer.

"I'm on the bridge."