His metal hand clenched the worn red notebook with one hand as he scratched out another name. The notebook seems never-ending, one name after another, page after page. At least once a week, sometimes after a vivid nightmare, sometimes while doing nothing at all, Bucky adds another name to the list.
He remembers someone he hurt or even someone he helped who hurt others. In any case, it's his fault for those people's pain and suffering. He needs to make amends.
All he has to do is follow three easy rules, do nothing illegal, don't hurt anyone, and lastly make amends. It's supposed to make him feel better, it's supposed to stop the nightmares, it's supposed to bring him a small sense of peace. It's all bullshit.
The rules Doce made aren't difficult, just unnatural. For the past 90 years, all he's been doing is killing more people than he could count. Not just for Hydra, but for the Avengers, for the army even. With Senator Attwood, his first instinct was to kill, to hide behind a barrier, and shoot her right through the windshield. It would have been easier, but not worth it. All it would have done is add the names of her husband and children to the list.
Bucky sinks back into the small recliner he was sitting in. The TV is on, but he's not paying much attention. The apartment he rented is small, with only one room with a sink and hardly enough room for a couch, tv, and table. On the far end is the door to a bathroom, nothing extravagant like he'd seen when he was in Wakanda or at the Avengers compound. Not that he really cared, it's just him anyways.
The light glints off of his metal arms as he gently turns the page in his book. He's crossed out at least twenty names so far, but he has many more to go. Each name is a little harder, Bucky started with the easier ones, the people that were used for Hydra, like Senator Attwood. The ones that are not innocent.
Bucky lets out a shaky sigh and runs his hand through his short hair, so many names. Too many names. He lets his eyes fall close and his head falls back against the headrest. He can see Steve's old body, but the same spark in his eye. The one he's always had. 'Bucky c'mon!' his voice was exasperated, angry almost, 'There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me.'
Growing up, Steve had always been the selfless one, the brave one. The only reason Bucky had to save him from fights is that he wasn't physically able to win himself. That's the only thing that changed. After the serum, despite his physique, Steve was still brave and selfless. He's always been the same puny kid from Brooklyn fighting for what is right. He never once abused his enhancements. Bucky wishes he could say the same for himself.
The serum changed him, it turned him from a careless young boy into a heartless man. It turned him from an innocent kid popular with the dames into a cold killing machine. He's not the same kid from Brooklyn, he changed.
Sometimes, Bucky wished that fall off the cliff would have been it. He would've saved himself a lot of suffering. He would have saved the world a whole hell of a lot of suffering. Unfortunately, he can't fix it. He can only follow the three stupid rules. He can only make amends.
Bucky blinks open his eyes and lets out a sigh before opening his notebook and scanning the list of names. In dark bold letters at the top of the next page is his next amend to make.
Peter Parker.