sargeant-barnesâ:
He was here for training, apparently, like Bucky had guessed and to meet him? Buckyâs eyes narrowed. Why would that be important, unless he was just friendly? He wanted to shake hands as he introduced himself and Bucky looked at it for a moment but ended up shaking it for a moment anyway. âBucky.â It was a quick, firm handshake and he didnât elaborate anymore before he let go. âPretty sure you knew that already, though.â People tended to know who he was, from the metal arm and his near constant proximity to Steve. That didnât mean he wanted them to know him much better than that, though he was making strides in that department just not when he felt like this.   Â
Buckyâs eyes narrowed, his expression hardening even further as Samson kept talking. Having a difficult time? He sure was but he didnât exactly want strangers pointing that out. âYou want me to talk?â He made an ugly sound that was almost a laugh but bitter and derisive. âWhat are you, some kinda shrink?â What was he supposed to say? That after years of hard work, of getting his mind back, the fact that none of it fucking mattered was driving him a little nuts? That he was terrified of becoming someone elseâs tool again? That there was nothing he could do to stop it and he couldnât stop fighting either even though he was so damn tired? Bucky didnât see much of a point.Â
Samson also, apparently, wanted to learn how to fight better, how to improve his hand to hand but Bucky didnât trust himself nearly enough right now. âThatâs a bad idea. I donât care how resilient you are, I shouldnât fight anyone right now.â That sounded like an admission, at least a slight one, that Samson was right about him having a hard time. But then, apparently, that was obvious. Bucky took a step back from him, like he didnât trust himself, clenching and unclenching his fists. The truth was he wanted to fight, badly, but his control felt tenuous at best right now and if he let all the rage and fear and pain come pouring outâŚwell, he didnât know if heâd be able to stop himself and that wasnât good for anyone.Â
-
He nodded, âA pleasure to meet you Bucky. Yâknow I wrote a report on you in high school.â he chuckled, âSomething about the kind of person youâd want to be like. I was a real weeny back then; before I got radiated to heck.â he gestured to himself, âSo yea. I know you, and I know youâve not had things easy for a very long time.â Over half a centuriesâ worth of experimentation and repressed trauma, it was more than any one soul could be expected to bare. And it was his job to help shoulder some of those loads; even if the person in question didnât want him to. Some might even argue that was an occasion where his help was even more desperately needed.
He shrugged, âGuilty as charged. But, to be fair, it wasnât my desired profession. I wanted to be like Bruce Banner, a ârealâ scientist.â he rolled his eyes, âMy dad was a shrink and I though this job was a waste of time. Though I studied it some to keep him happy. And then, in the spam of about a minute, a became someone who wasnât myself. I looked in the mirror and it wasnât me looking back. And I donât mean I looked different, I felt I looked better, someone who people looked up, literally.â he shook his head, âBut, it wasnât me. And that was terrifying. Like these... foundations Iâd taken for granted all my life were suddenly just gone, and it felt like no matter what I did I couldnât get me stable again.â
Despite his words, Samson let out a breath and smiled, âAnd then I talked to my dad, and he put me in touch with someone who helped. Turns out no matter how much science know-how you have, brainsâll still surprise you. For example, I bet you think you could really hurt me, probably kill me, just having a little spar, right?â he asked, tilting his head, âBut, I know you wonât. Because I know the science of my body now and, from seeing you in action, I can make a pretty good guess at yours. Besides, Iâm talking about the most basic of the basic; like I said I was a weeny kid, no one ever taught me how to throw punch. Every time I come back from front line combat Iâve broken a few fingers from punching wrong; Iâd really appreciate you taking a little time to help me stop that happening?â Bucky wasnât going to magically open up to him, so first they both needed to get a little more comfortable; he hoped this could be a step in that direction. Â Â














