CRUEL INTENTIONS, bucky barnes

eighteen

He didn't remember what he'd wanted to say next. Any of his own words were being overridden by Rumlow's:

Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky.

He got all weepy about it, right before they put his brain back in a blender.

There was a good chance that Rumlow was lying. That throwing Steve off and ruining the mission by making emotional jabs was the plan all along. There was no way to know. Steve wasn't sure he'd ever stop wondering. If he'd ever find Bucky in time to find out.

"Yes," Wanda said, patient as ever. "And you're in pain. So tell me about him."

Steve glanced at the time. The burning in his throat made him want to get up and leave. The warmth in Wanda's voice kept him planted where he was. It took him a few moments to collect his thoughts. He didn't think he wanted to tell the story from the beginning.

Not here. Not now. Not before he had to face Tony and the others. Not with Wanda, who had already been through so much.

"There's not much to say," he managed.

Wanda scoffed and turned toward him. "Somehow, I doubt that's true."

Steve fought off a smile and tangled his hands together, studying the dirt that he hadn't managed or bothered to clean from beneath his nails.

"We were friends since the beginning. Almost before I can remember." He looked up and stared absently at Wanda's various posters across the room. He was glad she'd found a home in Tony's new base. He was still struggling to settle down in the wake of Ultron, search parties, and now the Nigeria incident. "It's hard to find parts of my life that he wasn't a part of."

Steve faltered.

"Well, you know, not until recently. The last few years, obviously..." His chin fell back to his chest. "All the digging, searching, you know—"

"It's been hard."

He tried not to laugh at that, but something that resembled a chuckle slipped past his lips.

"Yeah," he said. "But not because of that. Not just because of that. I mean, look at everything that's happened."

"It would be much easier to process if you had someone by your side. Someone who understands." Steve felt her shift. "Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes that's how I feel about these things, but there's no way to know."

Steve looked up to see that Wanda was now the one who was staring absently across her bedroom. It was the first time he'd noticed a picture frame sitting on her dresser. The crumpled, faded photo was much too small for its frame and it sat awkwardly in the middle. It was a photo of the entire Maximoff family. Wanda, Pietro, their parents.

A new wave of sickness and pain knotted up in Steve's stomach. He wanted to apologize. Over and over and over... It wasn't fair.

"Yeah," he replied instead. "Yeah, maybe."

That sat in silence for several more moments. Steve stared at his hands while Wanda seemed to take in the decor of her own bedroom. They both looked back at each other at the same moment.

"His death was not your fault either, Steve." Before he could say anything else or question what she meant, Wanda went on. "Pietro sacrificed himself to save people who deserved to be saved. He was just doing the job. It will haunt me for the rest of my life. But I don't blame anyone. Least of all any of you."

The burning in Steve's throat was starting to return. He didn't want to go downstairs to be subjected to Secretary Ross. He'd rather sit and talk with Wanda who, strangely, seemed to understand.

"Brock Rumlow was not your fault. Whatever happened to your friend wasn't, either."

I wish you knew how wrong you were.

The image of Bucky's fall still haunted him, even now. The end of S.H.I.E.L.D. had reopened old wounds and administered fresh ones. Seeing what HYDRA had done to his best friend had given Steve's mind a whole slew of memories, new and old, to torture himself with.

"It's like you said," she said as she pushed herself off the bed. Steve followed her with his burning eyes. "You can't save everyone. Luckily, there is still time to save quite a few."