The Hurt And The Healing: Bucky X OC

Chapter Nine: A Terrorist, An Assassin, And A Well Dressed Black Man Enter A Bar

Bucky Barnes did not like Sam Wilson. The charm, the snappy one liners, the confidence that he knew what he was doing even when he clearly didn't, it drove Bucky crazy. He knew why Steve liked Sam, he even agreed with Steve that Sam should have the shield if something were to go wrong and Steve could no longer be Cap. But that didn't mean that he had to like Sam. Star spangled man with a plan to get us all killed. That was Sam...

And John fuckin' Walker.

To be fair, Sam was far less irritating than Walker. When Walker came running out onto the football field, marching band playing Steve's song (Steve's song), and fireworks going off, it reminded Bucky of that stupid Stark Industries promo video he watched on the Youtube. All it was missing was some scantily clad women doing a kickline. When he thought about how hard Steve had worked to stop being a dancing monkey, only for the shield to end up back on a stage, it made everything around him go white with static.

I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James Bucky Barnes.

And the therapy session. Why did Raynor bring Sam into the session? Didn't she see how hard Bucky was working to keep it together, keep a grip on himself, and not let the world see him as a ticking time bomb? Sam had fought the Winter Soldier, the last thing that any of them needed was Sam realizing how close the Soldier was to yanking back control and driving both him and Bucky off a cliff.

I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James Bucky Barnes.

And Zemo. The arrogant prick acted like Bucky owed him an apology. If anything, Bucky owed him a bullet to the head for King T'Chaka, for what he had put T'Challa and Shuri through. But here he was, sitting on a private plane being lectured by a wanted terrorist and Sam on his music taste.

"It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience." Bucky and Sam both turned to look at Zemo, as if to ask how an aristocrat from Eastern Europe developed such a strong stance on Motown music.

"He's out of line, but he's right. It's great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye."

"I like Marvin Gaye." That was true. Bucky did like Marvin Gaye. He just didn't listen to it unless Steve was the one to start playing it.

"Steve adored Marvin Gaye."

He also liked vinegar pie, but Bucky didn't go around trying to convince people it was the best thing since the New Deal.

"You must have really looked up to Steve," Zemo began. Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He didn't have the energy for Zemo's mind games today. "But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America's Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals," Zemo continued at his own risk. Bucky might have been waiting to smack him around until later, but Sam was not clued in on that plan yet.

"Watch your step, Zemo," Sam said slowly, looking over at the recently freed war criminal and most likely questioning why he was going along with this plan.

"They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws," Zemo plowed on, ignoring the two veterans glaring at him. "From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right?" he asked, turning to face Bucky. "As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon? Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?"

I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James Bucky Barnes.

"That is why we're going to Madripoor," Zemo concluded, satisfied that he had pushed enough buttons.

"What's up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it's Skull Island," Sam asked, glancing over at Bucky with a worried look on his face.

"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s," Bucky answered. The Winter Soldier had done several missions there over the years under different masters. Bucky wondered if anyone there remembered the Dream Street Massacre of '05.