Author's Note: Angst incoming!
Shannon, Bucky, and Sam are in the kitchen. The microwave clock reads 1:15am. They've been sitting in silence for an hour now, none of them knowing what to say. Shannon is digging into the rest of her leftover birthday cake and drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle while Bucky paces around the room. His jaw is clenched and pulsing beneath the skin. Every time he looks over at Shannon and sees the tears brimming in her eyes, more anger seems to boil in his guts. It feels endless and it makes him sick. How can someone do this to her?
"Buck, you're making me nervous," Sam says.
"I can't sit down."
"Well, you can't do anything right now," Shannon replies.
"I know that, Shannon!" He snaps.
"Hey! Don't yell at me!" She hisses angrily. Bucky stops in his tracks, muscles tense. "I'm not the one who ruined the night. Besides, you're not the one who has to shell out thousands of dollars for a lawyer now. This is what I was trying to avoid."
Bucky's shoulders slump and he leans on the back of the chair.
"I know." He hangs his head. "I'm sorry. I just fucking hate this guy."
She reaches up and squeezes his hand.
"Believe me, Buck," she sighs. "I know the feeling."
She gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and looks at the clock.
"I'm going to bed. I don't want to be conscious anymore."
"I'll be up in a bit," Bucky promises.
Shannon kisses him softly and smiles against his lips.
"Don't be too late," she whispers.
"I won't be. I love you."
"Love you too."
She not so discreetly squeezes his butt as she walks past him. Bucky chuckles and sits back down at the table across from Sam. They wait until they hear the bedroom door close. Bucky picks up Shannon's fork and stabs at the cake, shoving it into his mouth.
"What's the plan?" He asks.
"I say we use the week to get intel on him. Anything we can dig up that might help us or Shannon. I brought my laptop."
"I want to know everything about him," Bucky replies. "Address, work, his routine - I want to know what he eats for breakfast. I want to know his friends, his family, his neighbors. All of it."
"You're not killing him," Sam warns.
"I didn't say that." Bucky leans back and takes a generous swig of whiskey. "But I do want to scare him into dropping both lawsuits."
"He's entitled to sue for alimony, especially if Shannon makes more money than him and he was displaced by the Blip."
"Okay, fair. But to say that I broke up their marriage?"
"Prevented them from reconciling by intimidating him."
"Whatever," Bucky scoffs. "You and I both know that's utter bullshit."
"I know," Sam replies. "This asshole is unstable."
Bucky's lip curls into a snarl.
"I'll show him unstable."
Sam stares at him and tilts his head.
"You're gonna go Winter Soldier on this dude, aren't you?"
Bucky knows it's a joke, but he can't help but feel like there's an ounce of worry in Sam's voice. He tries to laugh it off.
"Dr. Raynor gave me three rules to follow for my list of amends."
"Which are?"
"Don't do anything illegal, don't hurt anyone, and to make the apology. But I won't be apologizing to that shitbag."
Sam grabs the fork out of Bucky's hand and takes a huge bite of cake.
"If we're going to do this, we can't make it harder for Shannon. We get him to drop the adultery lawsuit. That's the priority. That kind of shit could mess with your pardon, Buck."
"I know."
They both fall into a long, somewhat uncomfortable silence. Sam keeps watching Bucky like he's not sure what's going to happen second to second. Bucky hates that look - it's the look he's gotten from everyone his entire life. Well, everyone who knows about his past, anyway. It's a look that tells him that he can only be trusted to a certain point; that when shit hits the fan, everyone expects him to launch into Winter Soldier mode. There is a part of him that wants to, but it sits in the deepest, darkest part of himself that Bucky never wants to unearth again. He's a different man now. That much he knows for sure. Bucky's jaw clenches.
"Stop looking at me like that, Sam."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm a ticking time bomb."
"I didn't say that."
"You were thinking it."
Sam frowns.
"Why do you always assume the worst about people?"
Bucky lets out a hollow laugh.
"I don't know, Sam. Maybe because I've been the personification of someone's worst nightmare my whole life? I've got a lot of experience in that field, you know."
"Well, I wasn't thinking that you were a ticking time bomb."
"Then what were you thinking?"
"That it's almost 2 in the morning and we could both use some sleep."
Bucky sighs and rubs his face.
"I'm sorry, Sam."
"Hey, man," Sam replies as he scoops up the cake and puts what's left of it in the fridge. "You're stressed out. I get it. But don't let that cloud your judgment. We'll grab intel on this dude and we'll take care of this the right way, okay?"
He holds out his hand and Bucky grasps his forearm, pulling him into a hug that seems to take Sam by surprise.
"Thank you," he whispers.
"I got your back. Even if you are a pain in my ass."
Bucky shoves him away and swats him on the arm.
"Good night, Buck."
"Night."
He takes one more swig of whiskey before he puts it back into the cupboard and heads upstairs. When he pushes open the bedroom door, Shannon is on her side with her back to him. Bucky creeps into the bathroom to splash some water on his face and brush his teeth. He changes into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and hears Shannon's voice.
"You're going after Will when we get back, aren't you?"
"I thought you'd be asleep."
She rolls over to face him.
"Can't." Shannon props herself up on one elbow. "Am I right?"
Bucky stares at her. He contemplates lying to her, but can't bring himself to form the words.
"We're just trying to help."
"I don't think it's a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because I think I need to fight this alone. I never wanted to drag you into this."
"You didn't drag me into anything, Shannon. I chose to stay with you, to love you. But I'm not going to sit by and watch him take your money, your time, and your sanity, just so that he can destroy your life."
Her eyes fill up with tears.
"Bucky, just promise me that nobody is going to get hurt."
His brows snap together and he stares at her with a mixture of bewilderment and hurt. First Sam, and now her? Is that what they think of him, deep down? That he's just going to snap one day, and turn back into him? After all the work he's done, after what he's proven to her and himself, this feels like a slap in the face. His stomach churns and he bites his tongue. She reaches for him, but he pulls back and stands up. Shannon sighs.
"Bucky..."
His mouth is set in a firm line.
"I told you, I'm not like that anymore. I don't do that anymore."
"Bucky," Shannon warns. "That isn't what I said —"
"Isn't it?" He asks. His tone is dangerous, warning her to back off.
Shannon's voice drops to a soft, soothing whisper.
"I think that you're projecting."
"No," he laughs. "You don't get to play psychiatrist with me."
She sits up, her face twisted in confusion.
"What has gotten into you?!"
His head is swimming. Is he projecting? The way that Sam looked at him cracked something open, a fear that Bucky hasn't fully faced yet.
Or maybe, just maybe, he doesn't trust himself.
He wants to kill Will. It would be the easiest thing to do, but the thought makes him sick.
Memories flood back - bullets, flashbangs, screams. The words - those fucking words. The rage he felt, not unlike the way he feels right now, and the way it quickly cooled, making him able to kill without mercy and remorse. He never wants to go back there, he never wants to think that the woman he loves would even dream that that's what he was capable of now.
It feels like he's in a waking nightmare. His chest begins to heave up and down and he can't breathe, or think, or focus on anything for longer than a few seconds.
"I'm going to go sleep in the barn."
She throws the covers off and stands up. Her body is shaking. She looks confused and devastated, as though she could crumble at any moment. He can't look at her right now. As he walks to the door, she grabs him by the arm. Bucky wrenches his arm back to get her off of him. The anguish in her face makes his heart ache. He's never refused her gentle touch before, but right now, it's overwhelming.
"Bucky?" She whispers, her voice soft and childlike. "What did I do?"
He swallows the lump in his throat as his head screams at him to get out of this bedroom as fast as he can.
"I have to go."
"Bucky!" Shannon calls as he slips out of the room and runs down the stairs. Sam is just walking into the bedroom when he catches Bucky by the arm.
"Hey! What's going on?"
"Nothing," Bucky replies. The word is short and clipped. He has to get out of here. Away from both of them. Everything. All of this. He's sweating and breathing hard. Sam puts a hand on his shoulder.
"That look on your face isn't —"
"Sam," he warns. "I can't do this right now."
Sam lets him go and backs up.
"Okay. Okay."
Bucky takes off down the stairs and out the back door, letting it slam behind him. He storms toward the barn, taking deep, gulping breaths. He jumps up to the loft. It's just the way they left it the night of Shannon's birthday. He wants to trash it, to hurl the candles onto the floor below, smash holes in the walls with his fists and scream until his voice is hoarse.
But he doesn't. Instead, he lies down on the blanket and stares at the ceiling. Tears stream down the sides of his face as the memories of every gunshot, every person he terrified and brutalized play out in front of him like his own personal horror movie. Ayo was wrong. He's not free. If it only takes a look or a sentence to cause these feelings and memories to come roaring to the surface, then what's the point of being free? He'll always be a prisoner in his own mind. Maybe Sam and Shannon are right — or he's right — at this point, his mind is so clouded that he can't focus on anything except for the anger, guilt, and confusion that swirl in his chest.
"I am no longer The Winter Soldier. I'm James Bucky Barnes," he whispers. "I'm no longer The Winter Soldier. I'm James Bucky Barnes. I'm no longer the Winter Soldier. I'm James Bucky Barnes."
He repeats the phrase for hours until the words lose all meaning and the flashbacks fade out. He's reached the end of the movie. Muscles relax and he rolls onto his side. He knows he has to face Shannon, but he can't bring himself to do it. She has every right to be angry at him right now, maybe even to hate him. He turned around and made her situation all about him. Selfish bastard. He can't help when he gets these attacks, but he didn't even bother to use Dr. Raynor's tricks for controlling them. To breathe, to touch something familiar, to remember who he is.
He's the one who worked himself up and got himself into this mess. Bucky can't get over the look on Shannon's face when he pushed her away. He has to make this right, but he doesn't know how - or what to say. Sorry seems hollow, childish, even.
A sob escapes his throat. He sniffles and grabs his face with both hands and groans.
"You fucking idiot..."