Chapter Text
Bucky Barnes didn't expect his life to take a turn like this.
He thought after being freed from HYDRA, or at least been loosened enough that he could think his own thoughts, he’d just… rot. Hole up in some forgotten apartment with blackout curtains and cheap whiskey, watching the walls close in while he tried and failed to piece together the person he was once. If the guilt didn’t eat him alive, then the vodka would finish the job. That had been Plan A.
And if that failed —which, miserably, it did— he’d just vanish. Slowly and quietly like he deserved.
But of course, life couldn’t give him that, and Steve Rogers couldn’t give up on him either. So one evening, he showed up unannounced, all familiar blue eyes and stubborn hope, and flipped Bucky’s half-life upside down with just a few sentences and a duffel bag packed for him.
That’s how he finds himself now: in the middle of the Avengers compound, quietly seated on a fancy couch he finds extremely uncomfortable, listening to Steve talk to Fury like he isn’t even here.
“Bucky’s been through enough” Steve says “He’s not a threat anymore. He needs time, a place to heal.”
Fury crosses his arms, totally unbothered by Steve’s words.
“And do you think the Avengers Compound is the place for that? He’s a former HYDRA assassin, Rogers. I don’t care how much you trust him, security comes first.”
Steve’s friends are there too, also watching the bartender between the two men.
The other man, who Bucky believes is called Sam —he has never actually introduced himself— stands with his arms crossed just behind Steve with his eyes shifting between Fury and Steve, like he is quietly assessing every word exchanged.
Black Widow, or Natasha how she has insisted on Bucky calling her, is keeping a moderate distance, cross armed, but looking like she is ready to step in if the conversation turns south. Her expression is unreadable, though her eyes move toward Bucky now and then with a flicker of understanding.
“You think I don’t know that? Every day, I’m reminded of what HYDRA turned him into, what HYDRA did to him.” Steves answers, and Bucky feels a clench of guilt at his chest. “But I also know who he was before that, and I know wo he wants to be now. I’m not going to turn my back”
“You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. This isn’t about friendship; it’s about protecting the team.”
Fury’s answer raises the restrained anger on Steve, and he can’t help but step closer, although Fury doesn’t look worried about it.
“You think this is just about friendship? It’s about responsibility. What HYDRA did to him, I let it happen and so you did. SHIELD let it happen.”
“So now it’s our fault?” Fury questions, his eyebrow raising slightly.
“It was, Fury. HYDRA was working under SHIELD’s nose for decades, without anyone suspecting anything. No one. Not even you. If anyone deserves an amend from it, it’s Bucky”
The room falls silent immediately after Steve’s words, and it’s notable he has hit a nerve, especially for Fury. His demeanor breaks, and he frowns notably, the first drastically change on his calm and cold appearance. Bucky is genuinely surprised that man can change the expression on his face.
The two men keep each other gaze defiantly, and that’s when Natasha steps in, knowing Steve has taken a dangerous path with Fury now.
“Enough. Nick, Steve’s right.” She locks eyes with Fury, her expression unflinching. “Bucky didn’t ask to become HYDRA’s weapon, he was forced. You and I both know what that’s like.”
There’s no anger in her tone, just a remainder from her own history, because she knows what it means to fight for forgiveness when all everyone sees is the blood on your hands. The red on your blood.
“They don’t just take your body; it rewires your mind. It takes years to undo that kind of damage, if it ever happens at all. But I’ve seen Barnes. He’s trying, he’s been trying without any disturbance. If Steve believes he can make it, so do I.”
Fury hesitates, clearly weighing her words.
“And if he snaps? If the Winter Soldier resurfaces, how many lives are you willing to risk on your responsibility?”
“I’ll risk mine,” Steve answers, without stopping to think about it. “You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep, Fury.”
Fury glances at him, at Natasha, and then at Bucky, still silently sitting on the couch. Bucky feels uncomfortable under his examination gaze, but he doesn’t allow himself to shift under it even if he wants to.
“Fine.” Fury finally says in a guarded tone, turning again to Steve “He stays, only, and only, if you find someone who can help him heal; mentally, physically, whatever it takes. I don’t care who it is, or what they do, if it works. I won’t have him turning back into HYDRA’s weapon on my watch”
Sam behind Steve intervenes for the first time. “That’s fair”
“We’ll get him the help he needs,” Steve nods. “And we will keep a close eye on him. You have my word.”
“You better,” Fury dictates. “Because if you don’t, this conversation will end very differently next time.”
Fury gives one last glance at Bucky, nods his head and turns to head toward the door.
“And I want to be informed about everything that happens, any progress, any inconvenience small or big. Anything.”
As Fury’s footsteps echo away, Bucky remains seated on the couch, his head lowered.
Each word of the argument hit deeper into the guilt that already is consuming him. He doesn’t feel worthy of Steve’s unwavering defense. Every promise Steve had made, every assurance to Fury, felt like another weight he’d added to his best friend’s shoulders. He clenches his fists, swallowing the urge to retreat entirely, unable to not think how he is dragging Steve down, how his trust feels like a thread stretched too thin, and Fury’s skepticism only makes worse the doubts he carries about himself. The idea of finding someone to fix what HYDRA had broken beyond repair on him is laughable.
He's so lost on thought, he flinches when Steve sits next to him on the couch placing a gentle arm on his shoulders.
“You’re staying, Buck.” Steve announces like he literally wasn’t there when it happened.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Steve,” Bucky answers, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but all his words are filled with immense guilt. “Sticking your neck out for me. Making promises you might not be able to keep. Fury’s right, I’m not safe. You’re risking too much.”
The tension from earlier still lingers, unspoken but heavy in the air, and Bucky’s words only make it worse. Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Sam is faster, sounding a bit annoyed about what Bucky just said.
“Come on, man. You think Steve would just stand by and do nothing? That’s not who he is. That’s not who we are.”
“You don’t get it,” Bucky shakes his head, annoyed with Sam’s tone. “I’m not worth it. No one can fix this, not a therapist, not some ‘professional.’ I’m broken beyond repair”
“Buck, that’s not—” Steve tries to argue back but Bucky doesn’t give him room for it.
“I’m telling you; you don’t understand. The things I’ve done— “
“You think you’re the only one carrying a past that haunts you, Barnes?”
Natasha’s voice is quiet, almost a whisper, but they all can hear her. Bucky looks at her, surprised by the sharpness in her voice. Natasha leans forward, her gaze piercing.
“Look around, every one of us has something we wish we could erase,” She continues. “I know what it feels like to think you’re too far gone. That the damage is permanent. But it’s not. I’ve been there. And if I can crawl out of that and make up for the red on my blood, so can you.”
Bucky exhales, passing his hands through his face. He wants to believe her, he wants to believe everything they’re saying, see in himself at least half of what they’re seeing but it’s just so hard for him. He feels so lost, so beyond help, but the way Steve pats his shoulder, with so much conviction, makes his gut twists with reluctant acceptance. Damn it, hope is a dangerous thing.
“Honestly, man, it’s not like you have much of a choice here, your other options are jail or going back into the run and hide thing.” Sams says, and Bucky scoffs. This man only speaks to make annoying right points. Bucky doesn’t like him.
“Fine. I’ll stay,” He answers reluctantly, hating having to admit Sam is right. “But don’t get your hopes up. There’s no way you’re going to find someone who can actually fix this.”
Steve and Natasha exchange a subtle look. Natasha raises an eyebrow slightly, and Steve tilts his head almost imperceptibly. It’s brief, but enough for both Sam and Bucky to catch. God help them, they’re already thinking ahead.
“What the hell it’s that about?” Bucky asks wary, and Steve can’t hide his smile anymore, since the corners of his lips twist up.
“Nothing you need to worry about just yet, guys, just considering our options…”
“Oh, God, you do know someone.” Sam accuses, and by the way Steve’s smirk only grows bigger, he’s not wrong.
Bucky pitches his nose, reluctant but resigned, there’s an unease in his chest, a quiet anxiety about what Steve and Natasha might be planning, but beneath it, something unfamiliar stirs: gratitude. The knowledge that they refuse to give up on him, even though it’s been a long time since he has given up on himself, makes him feel, although he won’t say it out loud, that for the first time in a while he’s not entirely alone. So for now he’ll let them try.
As the others begin to disperse, Natasha lingers near the doorway, her arms folded as she studies Steve. His expression is thoughtful, distant, like his mind is already two steps ahead of the conversation that just ended.
“You’re thinking about her,” Natasha says quietly, not needing to clarify.
Steve exhales through his nose, a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”
Natasha tilts her head, considering him. “It’s been years. Since SHIELD fell, she vanished. Not a trace.”
“I know,” Steve admits. His voice is low, tinged with something like regret. “But back then… when I first woke up, she was there. She got me through more than I’ll ever admit. No one else could’ve done it.”
“She was a good doctor,” Natasha recalls, her tone softening for the briefest moment. “One of the best ones. After HYDRA was exposed, she walked away before anyone else could decide for her. And I let her go.”
Steve nods. “I can’t blame her for leaving. But if anyone can help him now…” His eyes flick instinctively toward the hallway where Bucky disappeared. “…it’s her.”
There’s a long pause before Natasha lets out a quiet sigh. Her mouth quirks, not quite a smile, not quite disapproval.
“Fine then.” She leans against the doorframe, her gaze distant. “But don’t fool yourself—she won’t agree easily. You remember how stubborn she can be.”
Steve’s lips twitch faintly. “She will if it means helping people. She always did.”
Natasha studies him with a sharpness that softens only slightly. “Or maybe she won’t. Maybe she’s done with all of this for good. You have to accept that possibility too.”
“Maybe,” Steve concedes, though there’s no real doubt in his tone. “But I have to try. For Bucky.”
For a moment, silence stretches between them, heavy with memory and unspoken thoughts. Then Natasha exhales, resigned. “Fine. We’ll go. But don’t expect her to welcome us with open arms.”
Steve glances at her, something knowing flickering in his expression. “You know where she is, don’t you?”
Natasha’s jaw tightens. She looks away, then back at him with a trace of warning in her eyes. “Just to make sure she’s safe.”