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Bucky stared up at the ceiling, his vision focused on a grey panel with a hole in the upper left quadrant. For the moment, nothing mattered but that tiny crater. The heart monitor beeping in the background, the flurry of voices worriedly whispering around him, and the smell of antiseptic and cleaner— It was all meaningless.
For a second, he wondered what it would be like to be small. Little enough to crawl straight through the broken ceiling panel, away from the distant sound and blurred out faces. Would he feel safe up there? Would it take the memories away? Would it keep him from ever lashing out again?
Would it mean everyone else in the world would finally be safe from him?
Something pricked his arm. Even though he felt so far away from himself, his body registered the pain. He tensed up, but his attention stayed on the abyss until his eyelids fell shut.
It was nine at night when Sam’s phone rang. He grabbed it off the couch, pausing the show playing on his TV before looking at the screen. A fond smile reached his lips when he saw whose name popped up.
After answering, he brought his phone up to his ear. “Did you see that bar I sent you? Man, we have to—”
“Mr. Wilson?” It wasn’t Bucky’s voice. An older woman had answered instead. Sam immediately sat up straighter.
“Yeah,” he affirmed, trying not to let his sudden concern show. “Who am I talking to?”
“I’m Dr. Davis. You’re listed as Sergeant Barnes’ emergency conta—”
Sam didn’t let her finish. He was already on his feet, forcing his shoes on as he blindly reached towards his jacket. “Where is he?” He was staying in New York for a conference, so he prayed Bucky was in the city.
“Avengers Tower,” she added. “It’s non-emergent, but it would be good if you came here.”
“I’m on my way.” As soon as his hotel door clicked shut, Sam rushed outside.
As soon as he stepped into the med bay, Sam began searching for Bucky. It was a big setup, but the place was almost empty. Every single bed was unoccupied but one.
With a soft breath in and a shaky one out, Sam slowly approached him. He looked… fine. They had a few monitors running and he had an IV in, but he looked like he always did. He didn’t look like he was in any pain.
Before his mind could wander, the doctor he spoke to earlier came over. “Thank you for coming in,” she murmured. She frowned as she looked at Bucky, minimally shaking her head before glancing back at Sam. “Let’s talk somewhere else."
Sam let her lead him to a small meeting room. The entire time, his head kept turning to face Bucky. He couldn’t help it. Clearly something had to be wrong if he was laying in that bed.
“I have a nurse with me,” Dr. Davis mentioned, shutting the door behind them. “She’s in charge of looking after him. Will be for at least the next twenty-four hours.”
Some of the tension eased from Sam’s shoulders. He nodded as he sat down, briefly rubbing his thighs.
“What happened?” he questioned, his gaze back on her. “He looks just like he always does. Is he hurt? Sick? What is it?”
The doctor sat down on the chair across from him. “He has some bruises, but they’re already beginning to heal. They’re not the thing I’m worried about.” She sighed quietly, giving Sam a regretful look. “Mr. Wilson, has Bucky ever talked about hurting himself?”
Sam froze. He wasn’t expecting her to ask something so… awful. He sucked in a breath, quickly shaking his head. “No, never.” A sickening wave of dread rushed over him. “Why? What did he—”
She cleared her throat. “Mr. Stark has a protocol in place. If someone falls from this tower, one of his suits flies out and grabs them. It was built in case someone’s attacked and thrown out, but…”
Sam didn’t like where their conversation was going. “But what?” he pressured. “But what?”
“We have security cameras everywhere, including the roof.” An idea of what happened was beginning to form in Sam’s head, but he was hoping to God he was wrong. “They caught Bucky stepping off—”
“No.” Sam held his hand out. He didn’t need to hear her say it.
A few hours ago, they’d been video-chatting and laughing over the new Broadway show they made about Steve. Bucky hadn’t seemed distraught in any way. He knew that kind of thing could change in the blink of an eye, but he’d been smiling. He’d been looking at Sam like he was the biggest dumbass on the planet, all while his pupils formed hearts.
“I know this is difficult to hear,” she continued quietly. “When he was brought in, he was completely out of it. According to his file, he usually gives the doctors here a hard time, but he didn’t fight us.”
Sam sat back, wiping his hands over his face. Bucky had gotten better with being around medical staff, but he was stubborn as hell. No matter who was talking to him, he almost never did what he was told, so to hear he didn’t resist at all…
“So, he’s on suicide watch,” Sam concluded. “Twenty-four hours.”
Dr. Davis nodded. “We have an approved counselor coming in the morning. They’ll assess him, then we’ll go from there. For now, we gave him some sedatives, but we don’t know how long they’ll last.”
As least they were doing their best to take care of him. They’d keep him safe, but it wasn’t as comforting as it should’ve been. He was too concerned over how Bucky ended up so lost that he tried taking his life. Sam knew the signs— He hadn’t seen any of them. Did Bucky hide them or was Sam blind to them?
“Am I allowed to sit with him?” All Sam could do was focus on the present. Bucky was asleep with no one in the chair beside him, and Sam didn’t want him to wake up alone.
As Dr. Davis stood back up, she nodded again. “Of course. That’s one of the reasons we called.”
Sam got up, following her back out. She brought him over to Bucky’s bed, then set two cups of water on the bedside table. “I’m hoping when he wakes up, he’ll be able to talk. If not to us, to you.”
He slowly sat down, his eyes scanning over the monitors. Between him being sick and this, Sam didn’t know which was worse. He’d seen both and neither felt good. Any time Bucky wasn’t okay, Sam would forget how to breathe.
After Dr. Davis left, Sam gently took his hand. He’d never been compelled to do so before, but something inside him was scared Bucky would disappear if he didn’t.
The sedative lasted until midnight. Sam was dozing against the bed, his face pressed into the mattress. His hand was still holding Bucky’s hand, and he’d told himself it was only so he’d know if he woke up.
Sam didn’t know he was awake until he heard a raspy “Sam?” He quickly sat up, doing his best to stay calm as he looked at him.
Other than the prominent dark circles under his eyes, Bucky looked the same as he had when they’d talked. Whatever Bucky Dr. Davis spoke to seemed to be gone.
“You have Captain America pajamas?” Bucky smirked as he weakly pointed to Sam’s shirt with his index finger. “Anyone ever tell you you’re lame?”
It wasn’t the time or place for jokes, but Sam laughed anyway. The amount of relief he got from hearing Bucky’s voice was immeasurable. Shaking his head, Sam glanced down at his clothes. He didn’t even think to change before leaving his room.
“Shut it,” Sam countered. “Let’s talk about you. How’re you feeling?”
Bucky tensed up. His gaze left Sam, moving up towards the ceiling. “I’m fine.”
Sam couldn’t help but follow his eyes. He seemed to be mesmerized by a hole in one of the ceiling panels.
“Bullshit,” Sam eventually offered, keeping his voice gentle. He wasn’t mad and he wanted that to be clear. A lot of emotions had built up in his chest, but anger wasn’t one of them.
Not towards Bucky, anyway.
“They told you,” Bucky scoffed. “I should sue.”
Sam slowly shook his head. “You made your emergency contact,” he murmured. “You never told me you did that.”
Bucky scoffed again. “Not like I have a big contact list,” he muttered. “Think you’re the only one who’d show up.”
Sam opened his mouth to object, but he couldn’t. Unless Bucky was suddenly a fan of people, he usually kept to himself. He’d been close to Steve and Natasha, but they weren’t around anymore. Sam was the only one left.
He squeezed Bucky’s hand. He still hadn’t let go. “I’ll always show up. You know that don’t you?”
Bucky looked at him again. Really looked at him, and Sam almost had to turn away. His gaze was so intense sometimes. It used to freak Sam out, but now he just saw it as something Bucky did.
“They shouldn’t have called you.” Bucky slowly took his hand back. Almost like he didn’t want to, but felt like he had to. “They shouldn’t have done anything.”
His first sentence didn’t faze him, but the second one made the blood in Sam’s veins run cold. His eyes widened slightly – as discreetly as they could – as he took a shaky breath.
“Bucky.” Sam was at a loss for words. He wasn’t the first person in his life who’d thought about ending things, but it was Bucky. His best friend— His partner. It was different.
“It wouldn’t have killed me,” Bucky added quietly. “Might’ve had some bruises, but I’ve dropped out of planes. Fallen off trains. Stark’s suit didn’t save me from anything.”
Sam couldn’t fight him on that either. He knew Bucky was right. It probably would’ve hurt him, but the serum made him close to indestructible.
“Then why’d you do it?” Sam asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you knew you’d be fine, why did you jump?” The words felt sour on his tongue.
Bucky’s heart monitor got a little louder. Sam decided not to pressure him. As much as he wanted – maybe needed – to know, he’d just been through something traumatic. He didn’t need more weight added to his shoulders.
Just when Sam was sure he wasn’t going to answer, Bucky spoke up. “I pretended.” He laughed under his breath and Sam felt like throwing up. “Told myself it would work until I believed it.”
Sam brought his hand up, cautiously touching his cheeks. They were wet— When did he start crying? Bucky sat up a little when he noticed, but he didn’t mention it.
“Did something happen?” Sam wiped his face off before clearing his throat. He wasn’t entitled to answers, but he wanted to know everything Bucky was willing to tell him.
“No.” Bucky sighed, bringing his attention to the heart monitor. “I don’t expect you to understand, Sam.”
“Then help me understand,” Sam countered, determined. He took Bucky’s hand again, tightly holding onto it.
Bucky’s hand loosely gripped Sam’s. His eyes watered too, even as anger crept onto his features. “Just go away,” he breathed out. Sam was slightly taken back. “I said I didn’t want you here.”
“Bucky—”
Sam was quickly cut off. “You’re smarter than this,” Bucky insisted. “I am a threat to you, Sam.”
“Woah— What are you talking about, Buck?” Sam held his hand up, confused by the sudden shift. Where was all of this coming from? “You are not a threat to me. You wouldn’t be my partner if you were.”
“We handled one mission, Sam,” Bucky threw back. “And I almost lost it in that bar. You’re lucky I didn’t—”
“You were in control,” Sam stated firmly. “Saw it in your eyes.”
Bucky laughed, bitter. “Saw it in my eyes? Listen to yourself.” He took his hand back again. “I knew you wouldn’t get it.”
“Bucky—”
Bucky turned his whole body, his heart monitor beeping in protest. “You don’t know what it’s like to be— to be owned!” he shouted. “Every piece of me was theirs! I fought their battles, pleased— pleased their people, and did every single thing they told me to!”
After a few rough breaths, Bucky sank back against the bed. “They took everything from me,” he murmured. “All that’s left is what they forced me to take.”
Bucky gave him a lot to unpack. No, Sam didn’t know what that was like. He hoped he never would. He couldn’t imagine going through that for a day, let alone decades. He knew Bucky’s compliance had been forced, but he didn’t understand what he meant by pleasing people. It took him a second to say it, which didn’t make him feel any better about it.
“What do you mean?” Sam whispered, scared to ask. “What do you mean by pleasing people?”
The color in Bucky’s face disappeared. He sank back in his pillow, as if hearing that single question had taken all his fight away. Sam scooted closer, wanting to remind him he was there without invading his space.
“It’s okay,” Sam murmured. “You don’t have to—”
“I was their weapon,” Bucky interjected quietly. “And I was their toy.”
He said so little, but Sam understood. His eyes closed as his heart dropped, his stomach uncomfortably twisting. He tried to think of one coherent thought, but nothing sensible came. His best friend, only a couple hours after he tried to take his life, was admitting he’d been… Sam couldn’t. God, he couldn’t. How could he possibly fix something like this?
Sam forced himself to open his eyes. He could grieve when he was alone; Bucky needed him.
“You listen to me.” Sam took a deep breath, pretending he wasn’t on the verge of losing his mind. “You are not a threat,” he repeated. “I know you feel like they’ve taken everything, but you’re still in there. Steve saw it, and I sure as hell see it. The person in front of me isn’t the person who ripped out my steering wheel.”
Bucky looked like he was ready to argue, but Sam didn’t let him get a word in. “You act like you’re on the same level as them, but you never were, Buck. You weren’t one of them— You were their victim.”
Bucky didn’t say anything. His gaze was back on the ceiling, but he could tell he was still listening.
“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” Bucky eventually breathed out, his voice unsteady. “I don’t know how to make it stop, Sam. Tell me how to make it stop.”
Sam almost fell apart. He hoped that meant Bucky accepted at least some of what he said, but he sounded so… small.
It was Bucky this time who reached out, desperately grabbing Sam’s hand. Sam held it as tightly as he could.
“We’re going to get you some help, okay?” Bucky’s muscles tensed up again, but Sam gave him a reassuring smile. “Your last therapist didn’t specialize in trauma. We’ll find you someone who does— Someone you feel comfortable with.”
Bucky blinked back tears as he nodded, squeezing Sam’s hand. It was a bit too strong for him, but Sam didn’t even think about pulling away. “I wouldn’t hurt you,” Bucky murmured. “I’d never hurt you.”
“I know.” With his free hand, Sam gently rubbed Bucky’s arm. “You never have, Buck.”
With a small nod, Bucky let his eyes close. Sam kept his hand in his, still rubbing his arm. “Get some rest,” Sam whispered. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. Everything that happens— You’ll get a say, alright?”
Bucky nodded again. His heart monitor was finally slowing down. Sam felt like he could finally catch his breath. Things were far from okay, but Bucky was safe. Bucky was alive. Right now, that was all Sam needed.
It looked like Bucky was drifting, but Sam had one more thing to say. “Buck?”
“Hm?” Bucky kept his eyes shut.
“Thank you for trusting me,” Sam murmured.
Bucky loosely squeezed his hand. Within a couple of minutes, he was asleep. Sam let his head rest against the bed again. Once he got over the initial shock, he had a feeling everything was going to hurt worse. For now, he shut his eyes, letting the relief he felt lull him to sleep.
Sam’s hand stayed in Bucky’s. He wasn’t going to let go until he was okay again.