My Name Is Bucky

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Two weeks had passed and Steve was getting worse. Like, real worse. He could hardly look at me without getting this deep, sombering look in his eyes. It haunted me. He didn't sleep with me anymore. No, no no that was the wrong choice of words. Let me restart. He didn't stay in the same room with me. He decided I would have his bed and he slept out in our makeshift bed in his living room. I don't think he ever slept.

I'm not sure if it was the looming situation or Steve's absence, but the thoughts started to come back. The intruding thoughts that told me this would be over if it ended. If I ended it. That's all it would take. And many times I considered it, but my mind would drift towards Steve. He told me he'd already lost me many times. I made a self promise to never lose Steve again.

I sat in my room, frantically writing into my journal as the memories came back. Bucky was becoming clearer, as if I opened the curtains in a blackened house. Something always felt off, though.

Anyways, I wrote in my journal. Some memories of Steve came back. A lot of my memories have to do with Steve. But something I didn't expect to reappear was my memories of HYDRA. Obviously, I was traumatized by the events, and writing them down seemed to be the only thing that helped.

The memories weren't contained in my mind. They creeped up my spine and shocked my nervous system. They crawled into my ears and whispered commands. They took over my fingers and made the pull the trigger. I twitched, trying to control my breathing as a poured every detail of the murders into my journal.

I looked up before his knuckles even hit the door. If I looked like how I felt, I'm surprised Steve didn't run away immediately. The pain in his eyes shone through as he looked at me to speak.

"Bucky," not buck. Not the nickname I had come to adore, "your lawyer is here." His mouth twitched as if to say more, but he never did. He left the room.

I stood up and walked to the kitchen, where I saw a red headed man with red circle glasses on seated at the table. Sam stood next to him and Steve was nowhere in sight.

"I want Steve," I told Sam. I couldn't figure out our dynamic, but we acted like how I remember my sisters and I acting. My head pounded.

"Yeah, I know." He paused. "I want him too. But he can't be here."

"Why-"

"I don't know." Sam snapped, but I knew it wasn't filled with anger. "He used to tell me everything-"

"But now he says nothing." I finished his sentence for him and nodded gently.

I turned to the man who sat at the counter. He was presumably and most likely my lawyer. By the looks of the glasses and the walking cane he held in his hand, he was blind. But the twitch of his fingers and gentle tilt of his head when I was speaking told me there was more than meets the eye.

I walked in front of him, looking at him directly in the eye even if he couldn't reciprocate the action. "Hello, I'm Bucky Barnes. And you are?"

His head snapped up, but his face angled slightly away from mine. "I'm Matthew Murdock and I will be defending you for the trial."

I sighed. "You defend criminals a lot, Mr. Murdock?"

A smirk pulled at his lips. "No. And may I just say, you are a killer, that's certain. We know you did these crimes. There's tons of evidence stacked against you. No, I didn't take this case because you were innocent. By all means, you're not. I took this case because of your...interesting circumstances."

Sam and I shared a glance. My metal arm seemed to flex on its own, becoming uneasy with the idea of me losing the trial.

Matthew continued. "HYDRA is a very top secret organization. However, I have found a multitude of resources in this very complex that I can build up a winning case. Natasha has agreed to take the stand. I understand you two were trained in the same room?"