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After the events of Madripoor, Bucky, Sam, and Zemo were nothing short of exhausted.
Now back on Zemo’s plane, which was way nicer than Bucky and Sam were expecting it to be, the three of them were sleeping.
Or, at least trying to, in Bucky’s case.
Everyone who knows Bucky knows that he has insomnia. Dr. Raynor. Sam. Steve.
Well, that’s less people than he thought he knew. Could he even count Steve anymore? So much for, “till the end of the line.”
After Steve left, Bucky’s trust issues grew exponentially. If his best friend for God knows how long left him in a world he didn’t even know, who’s to say someone he barely even tolerates won’t leave him too?
Okay, fine, maybe Bucky is slowly growing fonder of Sam. Just a tiny bit.
That tiny bit of fondness was crushed as soon as Bucky heard Sam’s quiet voice in the darkness of the plane.
“Buck? You awake? I can practically feel your 50-yard stare from all the way over here.” Sam exaggerates, sitting in front of Bucky.
“Fuck off. And don’t call me that.” Bucky mumbled.
Sam adjusts his posture in his rather comfortable airplane seat. “Okay. Why are you up?”
“I could ask you the same thing, hypocrite.” Bucky spouts, not making eye contact with Sam.
“Come on man, you get what I mean. Got something on your mind?” Sam questions.
Bucky snorts. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Sam is getting annoyed. He knows Bucky has been through some indescribable things, but he thought he was getting better. Wasn’t therapy supposed to help? Being a counselor in the past, Sam knows that these things don’t go away in the blink of an eye, especially in Bucky’s case, but usually, the problems eventually fix themselves.
“If you’re not gonna tell me, then I’m gonna ask.”
Bucky is so tired of people acting like they want to hear him spill his guts. Who genuinely wants to hear about the awful things he’s seen and done? “I’m pretty sure I already have a therapist breathing down my neck. I don’t need you of all people doing the same.”
They both remain silent for a moment. That moment is shattered by Sam’s voice.
“Bucky. What did Zemo mean?”
Bucky freezes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, don’t play that card. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Sam prays that what he thinks Zemo implied isn’t what is actually true. I mean, why else would Zemo say, He’ll do anything you want, as opposed to, He’ll kill whoever you want?
Sam’s experience as a counselor tells him that that sentence means something way deeper than what it sounds like. But as Bucky’s friend, or whatever they currently are at the moment, Sam prays that it isn’t true, for the sake of his conscience, and for Bucky’s mental wellbeing.
Bucky remains silent. The words threaten to pour out of his mouth, but he knows he shouldn’t say anything. A handler hasn’t given him permission to
speak. He’ll get sent back to the chair. He’ll be forced to-
“Bucky!”
Bucky flinches as Sam grips his flesh shoulder. Bucky’s eyes turn from glazed over to wide.
Bucky grabs Sam’s wrist that was on his shoulder with his vibranium arm with enough force to break it.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” Bucky hisses and lets go of Sam.
Sam acts like it didn’t hurt him so Bucky doesn’t feel guilty. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to push. I just can’t stop thinking about what Zemo said. It gives me the chills every time.”
Bucky chooses his next words wisely. Not.
“Sam, as much as I hate to admit it, you’re smart. You were a counselor. You’ve had your fair share of charity cases. Someone with as big of a brain as yours shouldn’t need confirmation on what those words mean.” Bucky’s voice raises. “I mean, seriously, you think Hydra only wanted to use me as an assassin? How useless is that? When you have complete and total control over someone like that, why the fuck wouldn’t you do whatever you want with them? It’s not like I could fight back. Trust me, I tried. At the beginning, yeah, I definitely fought back, but after trying once they just sent me straight back to that God forsaken chair and blended up my-“
Bucky suddenly stops talking and looks Sam in the eyes for the first time that night.
Sam looked horrified.
“Happy?” Bucky presses.
Bucky swallows hard. “I’m using the bathroom.”
Sam remains frozen in his seat.
So, the worst has just been confirmed. He really believed that that wouldn’t be the truth. Couldn’t be the truth. How could someone, or multiple people for that matter, be so cruel to Bucky? To a human being? Sam knows that they didn’t even consider Bucky to be a human during his time as the Winter Soldier; he read the files, but hearing it out loud by the victim is even worse than what he could’ve imagined it to be.
——————————
Bucky slams the door to the bathroom. Fuck Zemo. He doesn’t give a shit if he just woke him up.
He feels sick. He’s sweating. Shaking.
He practically breaks off the lid of the toilet and vomits until there is nothing left.
He leans against the counter, reluctant to look in the mirror.
All he sees is the Soldier staring back at him.
——————————
When Bucky returns to the cabin, he immediately sits back in his seat and stares out the window. Sam is still sitting there, staring at Bucky as if he is about to say something
And he does.
“Bucky.”
Bucky sighs. “What do you want now?”
Sam doesn’t apologize for the situation. He knows Bucky hates being pitied. So instead, he says, “I’m proud of you for speaking up. It’s never easy, especially when you’re saying that to a guy like me that could easily use that information against you. Look, I know our relationship is, well, a bit complicated, but if you ever need to talk about something that you’re not comfortable telling Raynor about, I’m always a phone call away. Doesn’t matter what time of the night it is. Clearly, judging by the time right now (it’s 4am), you suck at sleeping, but I'll always answer.”
“Thanks… I guess.” Bucky mumbles.
“Did I just hear that correctly? A thank you?”
“Just shut the fuck up and go to sleep already. Unless, you want to hear more about all the disgusting shit I went through-“
“Nope! Haha… I mean… maybe next time. I need some shut eye right now. Goodnight, Buck.”
“Night.”
Bucky isn’t all that relieved to have said all that to Sam, but it certainly feels like a weight has been lifted off of his chest. Maybe talking to Sam isn’t so bad after all.