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It wasn’t necessarily the easiest choice, but it was the best one.
Bucky—James, Bucky, Soldier, it hardly mattered, none of his many names felt like they really belonged to him—had been brooding since before they’d arrived back in Wakanda with Steve and the rest of his “team.” They were international fugitives now, particularly now that’d they’d broken Steve’s friends (criminals) out of that prison. The split had something to do with ideologies and some kind of legal document. Bucky didn’t really understand it, or care.
He’d been on the run for so long. He was so exhausted, all the time, and he could never rest, not really. Since breaking the HYDRA conditioning, he’d been on high alert constantly, keyed up and tense all hours of the day, and it was wearing on him. He’d found some brief peace back before the bombing and Steve coming back into his life again, but even then, his days were spent looking over his shoulder.
On top of it all, he still didn’t feel… right. He hadn’t since breaking his conditioning. It wasn’t just the lost sense of self or the missing memories. It was like he’d become used to doing nothing but blankly taking orders for decades, and his brain didn’t quite remember how to make decisions on its own. The instinct to hide and protect himself was strong enough to take over most of the time, but complex situations and decisions were beyond his grasp.
He remembered Steve Rogers, but barely. He’d recognized him as an old friend, and some part of him could recall some memories of them in a past life. It felt odd—thinking about the memories themselves felt like watching a movie, like he hadn’t really lived them, and yet sometimes he would get surges of intense emotion surrounding them.
Steve had asked why Bucky saved his life, and despite his answer, had assumed that it was due to some recovered emotion, some sense of friendship. But Bucky had been telling the truth when he said he didn’t know why he did it. A disconnected part of him had insisted on rescuing Steve, and he could access memories of a deep bond, understand on a basic level why he’d felt the need to do it. But he felt nothing.
When Steve had shown up again, he’d panicked. Remnants of his time with HYDRA took over when he was most stressed, and the entire last few days had practically been a blur. He fought without thinking about it, and he followed Steve because when he wasn’t capable of proceeding without orders, or thinking of what to do, the part of him that recognized Steve as “safe” was willing to do whatever Steve did.
But since leaving the floating prison and heading for Wakanda, he’d finally been able to calm down enough to regain what little rational function he still had, and think about what had happened. He’d been blamed for the UN bombing, but he was innocent. And in the end, Steve said everyone recognized that, that they all found out someone else had been responsible. So why had they run? Why had Steve come and escalated the situation instead of letting him be taken in peacefully and proven innocent? They’d hurt those police officers. They could have killed some of them. Steve seemed to think they’d been there to kill Bucky, but… they’d entered the building to apprehend him, not to kill. If they’d wanted to kill him, they’d have set snipers outside the building and done it through the window, or lured him out and done it there. That’s how HYDRA would have had him do it.
Every time Steve came into his life, he brought trouble with him, and violence, always more violence. Siberia, what a clusterfuck, the dead Winter Soldiers and the sudden influx of memories when he’d seen that video… then the fight, which he barely remembered, but he knew it had been bad. The entire thing was more between Steve and the Starks’ kid than Stark and Bucky. If he’d been alone, Bucky might have had the chance to surrender. Or maybe he’d have been able to maintain enough control to just let Stark kill him and be done with it.
That was doubtful. But he could dream. It didn’t matter now, what had happened instead was about the worst possible scenario. The man whose parents he’d killed, forced to watch that video with Bucky standing right there… and Steve, Christ, from their conversation, Steve had known about it, known and deliberately not told Stark. There wasn’t an excuse for that. Bucky had opened his mouth about a hundred times on the flight to Wakanda, wanting to ask Steve what the hell he’d been thinking, how he ever could have kept that information from someone and then beat them down when they found out. But each time he’d ended up saying nothing, because he was afraid the answer would be worse than his imagination. Steve couldn’t possibly have had a good reason for any of that, and Bucky didn’t want to hear him try to justify it. He couldn’t handle hearing Steve tell him yet again that the last seventy years ‘wasn’t him.’ It was him, his hands, his brain (even if he’d had little control over it). His memories. Telling him he hadn’t been responsible was pointless and only increased the disconnect he felt between his memories of being the Winter Soldier and his current fractured identity.
So instead of pushing the issue and hearing more uncomfortable words from Steve, Bucky had remained silent. He’d barely said ten words to Steve since they’d landed in Wakanda, and he was taken away not long after landing to have the stump of his left arm (thank god it was gone, thank god, he’d never hated anything like he’d hated that heavy, deadly HYDRA weapon welded to his fucking body, he’d have happily chopped off every one of his limbs if it meant he could be rid of the thing) examined and bandaged.
But after a basic medical check came the question he’d been expecting. The King was very polite about it, giving him time and space during the check up, but after all, they were guests in his country because of Bucky, and Bucky was a dangerous, unstable mess, certainly something had to be done about him. He’d been thinking about what was next since before they’d landed, and when T’Challa asked, he knew what he had to do.
“I’d like to leave, Sir. Alone. I—I appreciate your offer of sanctuary, and I don’t want to refuse it…” T’Challa waved a hand to show he wasn’t insulted, so Bucky continued. “But I don’t think I want to be here. Not with… with the others.”
He’d paused to stare at the opposite wall for a moment, trying to decide how much he should tell the King. But T’Challa, ever astute, beat him to it. “With Mr. Rogers, you mean?”
Bucky took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He was already dreading the conversation to come. “Yes. I… Steve isn’t… good for me, I think. He looks at me, and he sees his old friend. But I’m not him. I don’t know how to be him, and I don’t think I can ever get any better if I’m stuck trying to force myself to be someone I barely remember. So I’d like to leave. I can disappear, stay out of trouble, I promise. I’ll leave the country, I don’t want to impose on you. But I need to be alone.”
T’Challa looked at him for a long moment before responding. “I understand. I offered you sanctuary to make up for having wrongly targeted you, but I did so to help you. If the best way to help you is to let you leave so that you may go and find what you need on your own, then I will do so. I can give you some supplies to leave with, nothing that can be tracked. I will do my best to make sure none of the others try to follow you.”
The surge of relief was a welcome emotion, for once. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
T’Challa left the room along with his two guards, and after one more quick check of his bandaged arm, the medic left him alone in the room as well. Bucky sat and waited, dreading what he knew was coming. Part of him, some instinctual HYDRA-created and some just pure human feeling, wanted to run before he would have to face Steve again. But another part of him felt he owed something to Steve. A small part didn’t want to ever leave his side again. At the very least, he needed to provide some sort of explanation, so Steve wouldn’t be running after him the moment he left.
Another Wakandan stopped in to deliver a sturdy backpack full of supplies, then left Bucky alone again. He dug through the bag for several minutes, noting a canteen, some dried food, extra clothing and basic toiletries, a first aid kit, and even some money. Nothing electronic. He could sleep outside while traveling if he needed to, and completely avoid people for a while. Excellent.
He heard the pounding footsteps several seconds before the door was flung open, but all the advance warning did was allow him to tense up even further in anticipation. Steve practically threw himself through the door, coming to a halt in front of Bucky and immediately taking hold of his shoulders. Bucky had to shove down the impulse to jerk away, or to punch Steve for the unwelcome intrusion into his space.
“Buck,” Steve said immediately, bending down to search his face, “T’Challa just told me that you want to leave! Why?”
“I need to leave, Steve.” He corrected, in lieu of actually answering yet. The forced proximity was making him jumpy. Finally, he was unable to suppress a twitch, and thankfully Steve let go of him immediately, taking a small step back.
“Buck, we’re safe here. I promise, no one will find you. Tony can’t come after you here, T’Challa will protect you. I know you’re scared, but we’ll make sure you’re safe here.”
Bucky held Steve’s eyes for a moment. They were shining with sincerity and concern. It meant nothing to him. “That’s not why, Steve. I’m leaving because I need to get myself together, alone.”
“If you need privacy, I’m sure we can find it for you here. I can make sure the others don’t bother you, we can get you a private room to stay in most of the time.”
Bucky started to feel a spark of annoyance at Steve’s insistence. He didn’t seem to be hearing Bucky. “No, Steve, I need to be on my own. Away… away from you.”
Steve reeled back, clearly shocked and hurt. That part of Bucky that still attached emotions to Steve sent him an unhelpful stab of remorse and empathetic pain, but he ruthlessly shoved it down. This was necessary. “What… what do you mean, from me?” Steve said quietly.
“I need to be able to figure out who I am, to think on my own. I can’t do that around you.”
Steve looked lost. “I can help you with that!”
Bucky’s one fist clenched and released. “No, Steve, you can’t. You just make everything more complicated. Everywhere you go, trouble follows you, and you drag me into it. You look at me and see your old best friend, but I still don’t even know who I am.”
Steve took a step back toward him, but stopped when Bucky leaned away. “You’re Bucky Barnes, my friend since we were children. I know what HYDRA did to you was terrible, Buck, I know it’ll take time to work through it. But I can help you find yourself again. You already remembered me, I know you can find the rest.” His sincere expression told Bucky he really believed it, but he also wasn’t getting the point.
“Steve, the things you’ve done in the name of ‘helping’ me, I can’t… I can’t go through more of that.”
“What do you mean?” Genuine confusion.
“We hurt people in Romania. You hurt people, to ‘save’ me, and I did too, because everyone was fighting and I needed to get out, get away from it. I followed you because I trusted you. But all you did was lead me into more violence. The airport, that fight with your team, and then Siberia…”
“I did all that to protect you!” That was more defensive.
“I didn’t ask you to.” Bucky shot back immediately, and Steve recoiled. “I told you about the other Soldiers because they were a threat to everyone, because I thought you would help me take them out. I didn’t… I didn’t ask you to attack Stark.” He raised his hand and fisted it in his hair, thinking back to Siberia.
Steve’s voice was cold this time. “I didn’t attack Tony. I was defending you. He attacked you. He was going to kill you.”
“Funny, I thought that armor of his had missiles in it. I saw footage of that alien attack, Steve, I know those hand beams could have taken my head off. If he was trying to kill me, why didn’t he?”
Steve narrowed his eyes. “He wanted to hurt you. He was out of his mind, probably wasn’t thinking enough to use missiles. Or maybe he just wanted to do it slowly.” His voice was bitter, hard, and not at all like the Steve Bucky remembered. Any warm feelings his body was sending to Steve were long gone.
“If he was out of his mind, then why did you fight him? You admit he was overcome, but you still hit him back.” Bucky said quietly, letting go of his hair and raising his head to meet Steve’s eyes.
“He attacked you!”
Bucky sat up straighter. “Actually, he attacked you first, if I recall, after you told him that you knew about me, about what I’d done.”
That stopped Steve for a moment, and Bucky stood from the medical bed, advanced toward Steve, who took a cautious step back at the danger in Bucky’s eyes. “How could you, Steve? How the fuck could you possibly justify that? How long had you known what I’d done? How long did you keep that from him? How long did you have to tell him, to let him find out before he was standing right fucking next to me?” He spit the last few words at Steve, who flinched back.
Steve wouldn’t hold his gaze. The way he was looking at the floor was just one more admission of guilt, and Bucky wasn’t sure what would enrage him more: this, or if Steve continued trying to defend his actions. “I found out right after we first saw each other again,” Steve whispered finally. “I…” he started, but Bucky held up a hand to stop him.
“I don’t care, Steve. Honestly, I don’t care what you have to say to try to justify that. You can’t. Years, Steve. That was years ago. You said he was your friend, your teammate. You worked together, put your lives in each other’s hands. Are you telling me you were lying to him all that time, with no trouble?”
Steve finally looked up again. “I wasn’t lying to him, I just hadn’t told him. It was a long time ago, Buck. I didn’t… didn’t want to bring that up again, put him through that pain. He might have snapped, just like he did in Siberia.”
“Snapped?” Bucky raised his voice. “He snapped, Steve, because he watched it on video, with me, the man who orphaned him, standing right there, and then you, his supposed ‘friend,’ telling him you’ve known for years. Anyone would have ‘snapped’ in those circumstances.”
Steve raised his chin. “It wasn’t you, Bucky, and Tony should have known that. He knew you were brainwashed, that you couldn’t have stopped it.” Steve apparently couldn’t see Bucky’s fist clenching or his jaw grinding, that or he was really stupid enough to continue when Bucky was about to punch him. If he had to hear Steve tell him one more fucking time that he hadn’t been responsible for the Starks’ deaths, for any of his missions, he was going to completely break down and attack, and Steve would have to knock him out to subdue him. “Tony shouldn’t have attacked either of us. It was wrong, and grief isn’t an excuse for what he did. I fought him because he was trying to hurt us. I won’t apologize for protecting you.” Steve said defiantly.
Bucky took two steps back, until he bumped into the edge of the medical bed, which he reached down and gripped to keep himself from hitting Steve. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to stop the fuzzy feeling in his brain that always preceded devolving into instinctual behavior. If he did that, he’d never get to finish this conversation, and he’d run off, and surely Steve would try to follow him. Who knows who he could hurt in his escape if he wasn’t thinking right.
Apparently Steve took his moment of silence for acquiescence, because when Bucky opened his eyes again, Steve was much closer, and giving him a soft look (condescending, his mind supplied, he always looked at Bucky with this mixture of pity and condescension, as though Bucky’s scrambled mind meant that Steve was some sort of all-wise parent that had to help steer him in the right direction), a look that told him that Steve was chalking the entire conversation up to Bucky being on edge, conveniently finding an excuse to ignore everything he’d said. It was time to be very clear.
Bucky swallowed and met Steve’s eyes again, lowering his voice. “Steve, we’ve been friends for so long. I remember you, I remember a lot of it, even now. I feel more emotion around you than anywhere else. I still remember wanting to protect you, to stick by your side no matter what. You were like a little brother to me.”
Steve smiled and reached a hand out to place on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky let him, just so he could be close, could guarantee he had Steve’s full attention. “And after all of that, Steve… if I’d been in that bunker and watched you murder my parents on video, it wouldn’t have mattered if you were brainwashed or not. I’d have killed you right then and there. And I’d have felt nothing.”
Steve jerked his hand back as if he’d been burned and stumbled back several steps. He seemed speechless, which was the perfect opportunity for Bucky to turn and grab the backpack. He slung it over his shoulders and strode to the door, then turned back to face Steve.
“I didn’t ask you to do that for me, Steve. I didn’t want you to. You can lie to yourself if you want, but I won’t condone it, and I won’t forgive you for it. Maybe someday, when I’ve had time to get my head on straight by myself, we can talk again. But for now, I need to be away from you. So let me go, and don’t you dare follow me.”
He held Steve’s horrified gaze for a moment longer before he pulled open the door and headed down the hallway to leave. He didn’t look back.