This was a mistake, Bucky thought as he stared at the back of Steve’s head behind the podium. A mistake, but it was far too late to chicken out now.
“And I want to reiterate,” Steve was saying to the crowd. “That what I did was not okay. Even with the mitigating circumstances, I broke a promise and told a story that was not mine to tell.”
Bucky smoothed back his hair unnecessarily. There was too much gel in it for even a strand to fall out of place. He’d wanted to pull his hair back in a ponytail and call it a day, but the look on Sam’s face had convinced him not to. That gleeful look that meant Sam was formulating an epic taunt at Bucky’s expense. Maybe it hadn’t been about his hair, Bucky reflected. Maybe it had been the shock of seeing Bucky wearing a suit.
Steve was wearing his uniform, upgraded significantly from the one he’d worn in 1944. If he was forced to dress up, Bucky would have felt more comfortable wearing his tac gear, but he understood why calling back visually to the Winter Soldier was a bad idea. So monkey suit it was.
“-I’d like to introduce, my friend, Sergeant James Barnes.”
Bucky’s legs moved on their own, bringing him up to the podium beside Steve. His eyes ghosted over the enormous crowd of the Male Survivors Support Network’s beneficiaries and allies. He knew the Avengers, his friends, were down there, too, but he couldn’t see them. It was easier to focus on a point just above the crowd’s heads to find his voice.
“Yeah, uh. Hi,” Bucky said into the microphone. He was too close, and the resounding feedback made the crowd ripple as they flinched.
Great start, Barnes.
“Sorry,” Bucky adjusted the microphone slightly. “Okay. So, I’m Bucky, and I’m here to tell you my story, in my own words.”
He had cue cards, but every time he glanced down at them the writing blurred. He breathed deeply. He knew what he wanted to say, even without them. He had this.
“Most of you already know some of what happened to me. Before I go any further, I- I wanted to say that Steve’s right that no one should ever tell something like this, something that isn’t theirs, but I wanted to say that I understand why he did. I understand, and I forgive him.”
Bucky didn’t look at Steve, standing behind him onstage, off to his right. He’d never told Steve that. Maybe he hadn’t realized that he’d forgiven him before now.
“They told me, uh, that some of you really connected with my story. That you wanted to meet me. Hope you’re not too disappointed.”
He grinned self-deprecatingly. His hand smoothed his hair again.
“So, most of you know that I was- I was raped in 1944. A bunch of Hydra soldiers. Honestly, I don’t remember a lot about that. I just remember the shock, and the shame, and the desperation that no one ever find out about it. Steve found me, right after, so he knew, and he was- he was great. Back then, there was even less support than there is now, and there’s not nearly enough support now- ”
He was starting to ramble. He closed his eyes for a moment. Breathed.
“That’s the part you already know. Now, here’s the part you probably don’t. How Hydra got their hands on me again, and they got inside my head. Made me into someone else. Used me as a weapon for almost seventy years. Right before I- I woke up from that, a few Hydra operatives used the control Hydra had over me to rape me again.”
The crowd was silent and still. Bucky barrelled on, nearing the end. He didn’t think he could have stopped, even if he’d wanted to.
“And that’s the background I needed to tell you before I could tell you the rest of what I wanted to say today. How, it’s- it’s not your fault, what happened to you. However much you blame yourself, however weak you think it makes you, you’re wrong. It wasn’t my fault, any of it, and blaming myself does a disservice to me as well as to all of you.”
This felt better than when he’d found out Rumlow was dead. It felt better than when Steve, Sam, Nat, and Tony had found Karpov, living in Cleveland of all places. It didn’t feel as good as when he’d lit that red book on fire, but it was close. His room had reeked of burnt leather for weeks. He’d been disappointed when the scent faded.
“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault. The shit- sorry, stuff that happened to us happened because there are people- there are always gonna be people- who think that what they want is more important than other people. They value power more than people, and that’s their problem, not yours or mine.”
The words he was saying, that he’d outlined the night before, were all true. He knew they were true. He nearly believed them himself. He hoped that the people he was speaking to believed them.
“So, uh, yeah, that’s- that’s what I wanted to say to you. And, I’ll, uh, I’ll be around after, if anyone wants to talk. I’m not real great at talking, but I’ll try. Anyway, thank you.”
He stepped back from the podium, wondering why there was a roaring in his ears. It took him a few seconds to realize the crowd was giving him a standing ovation. He dipped his head, proud and embarrassed.
“Hey,” Steve said, and Bucky turned to look at him. Steve had tears in his eyes. “That was great, Buck. That was really, really- ”
Bucky hugged him. He didn’t think he’d hugged Steve since before the War, when Steve was small and fragile. It had been too fucking long.
“Thank you,” Steve said, pounding him on the back. Bucky returned the gesture. He could be rougher with Steve now, but he was still gentler using his metal arm. He’d already hurt Steve enough with it. Even if it hadn’t been his fault.
“Ready to meet them?” Steve asked when they broke apart.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Bucky straightened his tie, smoothed his hair unnecessarily, and followed Steve down the steps of the stage, into the crowd.
Fill: Speaking Out (Epilogue)
This was a mistake, Bucky thought as he stared at the back of Steve’s head behind the podium. A mistake, but it was far too late to chicken out now.
“And I want to reiterate,” Steve was saying to the crowd. “That what I did was not okay. Even with the mitigating circumstances, I broke a promise and told a story that was not mine to tell.”
Bucky smoothed back his hair unnecessarily. There was too much gel in it for even a strand to fall out of place. He’d wanted to pull his hair back in a ponytail and call it a day, but the look on Sam’s face had convinced him not to. That gleeful look that meant Sam was formulating an epic taunt at Bucky’s expense. Maybe it hadn’t been about his hair, Bucky reflected. Maybe it had been the shock of seeing Bucky wearing a suit.
Steve was wearing his uniform, upgraded significantly from the one he’d worn in 1944. If he was forced to dress up, Bucky would have felt more comfortable wearing his tac gear, but he understood why calling back visually to the Winter Soldier was a bad idea. So monkey suit it was.
“-I’d like to introduce, my friend, Sergeant James Barnes.”
Bucky’s legs moved on their own, bringing him up to the podium beside Steve. His eyes ghosted over the enormous crowd of the Male Survivors Support Network’s beneficiaries and allies. He knew the Avengers, his friends, were down there, too, but he couldn’t see them. It was easier to focus on a point just above the crowd’s heads to find his voice.
“Yeah, uh. Hi,” Bucky said into the microphone. He was too close, and the resounding feedback made the crowd ripple as they flinched.
Great start, Barnes.
“Sorry,” Bucky adjusted the microphone slightly. “Okay. So, I’m Bucky, and I’m here to tell you my story, in my own words.”
He had cue cards, but every time he glanced down at them the writing blurred. He breathed deeply. He knew what he wanted to say, even without them. He had this.
“Most of you already know some of what happened to me. Before I go any further, I- I wanted to say that Steve’s right that no one should ever tell something like this, something that isn’t theirs, but I wanted to say that I understand why he did. I understand, and I forgive him.”
Bucky didn’t look at Steve, standing behind him onstage, off to his right. He’d never told Steve that. Maybe he hadn’t realized that he’d forgiven him before now.
“They told me, uh, that some of you really connected with my story. That you wanted to meet me. Hope you’re not too disappointed.”
He grinned self-deprecatingly. His hand smoothed his hair again.
“So, most of you know that I was- I was raped in 1944. A bunch of Hydra soldiers. Honestly, I don’t remember a lot about that. I just remember the shock, and the shame, and the desperation that no one ever find out about it. Steve found me, right after, so he knew, and he was- he was great. Back then, there was even less support than there is now, and there’s not nearly enough support now- ”
He was starting to ramble. He closed his eyes for a moment. Breathed.
“That’s the part you already know. Now, here’s the part you probably don’t. How Hydra got their hands on me again, and they got inside my head. Made me into someone else. Used me as a weapon for almost seventy years. Right before I- I woke up from that, a few Hydra operatives used the control Hydra had over me to rape me again.”
The crowd was silent and still. Bucky barrelled on, nearing the end. He didn’t think he could have stopped, even if he’d wanted to.
“And that’s the background I needed to tell you before I could tell you the rest of what I wanted to say today. How, it’s- it’s not your fault, what happened to you. However much you blame yourself, however weak you think it makes you, you’re wrong. It wasn’t my fault, any of it, and blaming myself does a disservice to me as well as to all of you.”
This felt better than when he’d found out Rumlow was dead. It felt better than when Steve, Sam, Nat, and Tony had found Karpov, living in Cleveland of all places. It didn’t feel as good as when he’d lit that red book on fire, but it was close. His room had reeked of burnt leather for weeks. He’d been disappointed when the scent faded.
“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault. The shit- sorry, stuff that happened to us happened because there are people- there are always gonna be people- who think that what they want is more important than other people. They value power more than people, and that’s their problem, not yours or mine.”
The words he was saying, that he’d outlined the night before, were all true. He knew they were true. He nearly believed them himself. He hoped that the people he was speaking to believed them.
“So, uh, yeah, that’s- that’s what I wanted to say to you. And, I’ll, uh, I’ll be around after, if anyone wants to talk. I’m not real great at talking, but I’ll try. Anyway, thank you.”
He stepped back from the podium, wondering why there was a roaring in his ears. It took him a few seconds to realize the crowd was giving him a standing ovation. He dipped his head, proud and embarrassed.
“Hey,” Steve said, and Bucky turned to look at him. Steve had tears in his eyes. “That was great, Buck. That was really, really- ”
Bucky hugged him. He didn’t think he’d hugged Steve since before the War, when Steve was small and fragile. It had been too fucking long.
“Thank you,” Steve said, pounding him on the back. Bucky returned the gesture. He could be rougher with Steve now, but he was still gentler using his metal arm. He’d already hurt Steve enough with it. Even if it hadn’t been his fault.
“Ready to meet them?” Steve asked when they broke apart.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Bucky straightened his tie, smoothed his hair unnecessarily, and followed Steve down the steps of the stage, into the crowd.
End