til the end of the line

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Bruce says.

“You didn’t. The sun did,” you say with a chuckle, gesturing toward the light glaring in.

“I can close the blinds?”

“Nah, I’m awake now.” He nods, then goes back to clacking on his computer. “How’s everything look, doc?”

“Very stable, Y/N. You are incredibly lucky.” He looks at you with seriousness in his eyes. “If we didn’t have Narcan, I don’t think we’d be having this conversation, Y/N. I don’t want to underemphasize how close you were to dying.” You nod, looking down at your hands. “Your meetings with Dr. Raynor will continue to be important as we move forward with your recovery.” You nod again, and Bruce goes back to typing on his keyboard. After a few minutes, he squats down next to your bed. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” you say, though you weren’t entirely convinced. Somewhere, still, in the back of your mind, you knew you’d run as soon as the Vivitrol wore off. But you didn’t say anything. Bruce nods, and starts unhooking the machine, shutting off the heart monitor and removing the pads from your chest.

It only takes a few minutes before you’re completely unhooked, your IV is out and you are sitting on the edge of your bed.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Please let Captain Rogers know that Y/N is ready to leave the med bay.”

“Yes, Dr. Banner.” He walks around the bed and helps you stand up, steadying you as your legs are weak and you almost fall. It feels good to be upright, though. You smile at him as Steve and Bucky walk into the med bay. Their eyes are on you, leaning into Bruce’s arm for support.

“You sure you’re strong enough?” Steve asks as he gets to your side. You just nod.

“Oh, I brought these,” Bucky says, moving to your side. He has a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, different from the last time. He hands them to you with a smile. “I figured you might like to get out of that very attractive gown.” You chuckle and stick your tongue out at him.

You change quickly, all the men turning around to give you privacy, much easier without all the cords and wires. Then, at last, with Bucky on one side and Steve on the other, you walk out of the med bay, hopefully for the last time.

They help you walk toward the elevator, then to the main living quarters. You walk with them to the couch in the living room before sitting down, shaky. Your walk exhausted you and you lean against the back and close your eyes.

“You okay?” Bucky says, squatting down in front of you.

“Yeah. Just a little tired,” you say with a smile, not opening your eyes.

“Okay. You rest. We’ll be here when you wake up.” He stands and leans across you to place a kiss on your forehead. Before he stands back up, he whispers, “I love seeing you in my clothes.” Butterflies flutter in your stomach and you try your best to not respond. He stands up and walks away. You sigh, trying to sink further into the couch.

Sometime later, you’re not sure how long or if you even slept, you wake up to the couch next to you shifting. You open your eyes to see Sam Wilson on the opposite end of the couch.

“Good to see you up and at ‘em,” he says with a smile. You smile back. “I know we haven’t really talked much. I’ve been busy with contracts.”

“I know. It’s fine. I haven’t been much fun anyways.” You try to laugh, but it sounds more forced than you like. Sam doesn’t laugh though. He leans back against the back of the couch.

“I knew Freaky Magoo would be there for you, anyways.” You snort at his comment.

“Freaky Magoo?” you ask, humor lacing into your voice.

“He does have a staring problem. You can’t deny it.”

“You’ve got a point, though.”

“Hey!” You laugh at the deep voice behind you. You shift to peek over the couch to see Bucky leaning against the island in the kitchen. He chuckles, then goes back to filling his water bottle. You glance back over at Sam.

“What are we doing tonight, boys?” You melt into the back of the couch and close your eyes.

“Looks like you’re going to bed, Y/N,” Sam says with a chuckle.

“Nah, I’m a real party animal.” As the words leave your mouth, you wish you could bring them back, but you shake your head. “That wasn’t funny.”

“It was a little funny, in a twisted kind of way,” Sam says, and you chuckle.

“I’m nothing if not a little twisted,” you all but whisper.

“Aren’t we all?” Bucky says, flopping onto the couch between you and Sam, instantly lightening the mood. You would thank him if he didn’t keep talking. “I say we watch a movie. We used to have movie nights all the time.” The boys talked about what movie to watch, and, at some point in the conversation, Steve came in, flopping on the other couch in the main room. You barely noticed him coming in, your eyes still closed.

“Okay,” you say, your eyes still closed. “It’s been a long time since I watched a movie.” As it turns out, it would be even longer, because, as the opening scene was playing on the huge TV, you fell asleep, your head slipping onto Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hey,” you vaguely hear, someone shaking your shoulder slightly. You groan, not wanting to move. “Y/N. Let’s get you in bed.” It’s Bucky, you realize but you push his hands away, making him chuckle. “Come on Sleeping Beauty.” He stands up, and you all but flop onto the couch as he moves. “You leave me no choice,” Bucky says, laughter in his voice. You feel his large hands under your torso and legs, and he lifts you up easily. You wrap your arms around his neck instinctively, and nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder. He hums softly, and his swaying footsteps lull you back to sleep.

Lights. Bright lights blind you. Bodies sway and bump into you and you can’t make yourself care. Sweat drips from your forehead, hair, down your back. You grind up against someone behind you.

“Let’s get out of here, baby,” a deep voice whispers in your ear.

“What do I get out of it?” you yell above the pulsing bass filling the room. A chuckle rumbles through the man’s chest, vibrating against your back still smashed up against his front.

“What about this?” he says, holding a white pill in front of your face. You spin to face him. You vaguely think you should ask what it is, but you don’t care, honestly. You stick your tongue out and the man places the white pill on your tongue. You swallow it easily. He grabs your hand and pulls you along with him, out the door, and onto the back of his motorcycle. You hold onto his torso as he weaves in and out of traffic, toward the skeevy apartment complex you both call home, his 3rd floor apartment only 2 floors below your own. It takes a few minutes, but soon, calm and quiet washes over you. The world around you melts away.

After he pulls up to the apartment complex and parks his bike, you all but fall off the side of it, your already short dress hiking up, and you giggle.

“Come on, baby,” the man says, wrapping his arm around you. “Want to have some fun?” He doesn’t even wait for your answer, all but dragging you up the stairs toward his apartment. By the time you get there, your legs are feeling like jello and you can’t make yourself care about anything.

“Here,” he says, running his finger up your thigh. You bristle at the touch, but he takes that to mean anticipation. You try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. He places a small patch on the inside of your thigh, almost to your panties.

Almost immediately, your eyes roll back in your head and the only way to describe what you feel is euphoria. Everything in the room slips away into blackness and you welcome it.

Some time later, you aren’t even sure how long, you wake up, your dress pushed up and your underwear no where to be found. The man, Marco, your dealer, lays on the ground beside you, his own pants missing. You try to move, but pain shoots through your abdomen, and you realize all at once what happened. You realize you had been raped and you weren’t even conscious enough to remember it.

“Y/N!” Bucky screams, shaking you awake. Your screams still ring through the room though you don’t realize that you are still screaming. Tears fall down your cheeks and every inch of your body is shaking. “Hey, hey, hey,” he says, pulling you into his arms, and you try to push him away, but he doesn’t move. “I got you. You’re safe now.” You scream at him and his grip falters."Let me go, please! Please!" He does as you ask and you all but fall off the bed and run into the bathroom, closing the door behind you."Y/N!" Bucky yells after you, but you press your back against the door and slide down it, sobs wracking through your body. "Y/N, open the door please?" Bucky's voice is sad at first, but he repeats himself over and over, each time sounding more and more frustrated. "Damn it, Y/N. Open the door." He slams his hand on the door, and you scream in response. After a few minutes, you hear him sigh through the door. "Please, Y/N," he all but pleads. You curl into your knees, your back still against the door. You feel the door shift and, for a moment, you think Bucky is coming through anyways. He could, easily, break the door, but it doesn't move again, and you realize he is probably leaning against the other side. You hear sobs through the door, and yours start again.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Steve says with a chuckle. You grunt, closing your eyes again. He laughs at your response. After a few minutes, you stretch again, dragging yourself into a sitting position.

“I think it’s afternoon,” you say, and Steve chuckles again.

“Have a nice nap?” he asks.

“Not really.”

“You sound like Buck,” he says and looks at you. “Sorry I haven’t been around much since you got here, Y/N. Fury has me doing some recon and I’ve been in and out with Sam.”

“I get it. There’s still a world to save out there.”

“Now more than ever, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah… I’ll just be glad to get out of this bed.”

“I bet. That’s actually what I came to talk with you about.” You look up at him and he’s studying you carefully. “Bruce says he thinks you’re ready to leave the med bay, at least that you don’t need constant monitoring.”

“That’s what Dr. Raynor said earlier,” you say with a nod.

“How do you feel about that?”

“You sound like Dr. Raynor,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I mean, I’ll be glad to leave. This bed sucks.” Steve smiles at your response.

“So, we uh… we talked about it, and we all think it’s best if you stay at the Tower. At least for a little while.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s it? I expected more push back.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Steve furrows his brow at your comment. “Even if I left, you’d come find me and drag me back. Why bother?” You lean back again, your head on your pillow.

“We’re just trying to do what is best for you, Y/N.”

“Is that why you forced Vivitrol on me, Steve? When I wasn’t even awake to consent to it?”

“Exactly, Y/N. You weren’t awake. You were in a coma because you overdosed, Y/N. I did what I thought was best.”

“And Cap always knows best,” you mumble.

“That’s not fair, Y/N.”

“Life’s not fair, Steve,” you snap, but your anger quickly disappears.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, Y/N. I can’t even pretend to understand. But I just buried one friend. I am not going to bury you too. I am not going to…” He looks down at his hands. “I am not going to lose you again.” You swallow down the lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry I put you through all of this, Steve.” It’s your turn to look at your own hands, your fingers threading and unthreading through each other.

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” You look up at him and his eyes ring with sincerity.

“You tried to be. That’s on me. How many voicemails do you think you left me? Probably 1000,” you said with a smile. He laughs at that.

“Probably more like 10,000. I am sure you got tired of hearing my voice.”

“Never,” you say with a smile.

“So, we have your old apartment ready for you. Bruce still wants you to come check in daily, to monitor your heart. He just wants to make sure there’s no long-term effects.” You nod, listening. “There’s going to be some ground rules, Y/N. We can’t do this again. You can’t do this again. No alcohol, at least for now. Bucky, Sam and I all agreed to keep it out of the Tower so it’s not even here to tempt.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know. I’m a big girl.”

“A big girl with some impulse control issues,” he says with a smile. You stick your tongue out at him, and he laughs. “Just for now. It’s probably better for all of us anyways.” You nod. “You’re not going to be alone for a while, Y/N. One of us is always going to be around.” You roll your eyes.

“Is that really necessary?” you ask.

“For now, yes. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t do it and I know it would kill Buck too. We’re your team, and for now, we’re all in this together.”

“That was very cheesy, Captain.” It’s his turn to roll his eyes with a chuckle.

“You’re like a little sister to me, Y/N. I’m here for you. Always.” Steve’s words ring with sincerity, typical Steve Rogers. You hear someone knock on the doorframe, and you look up to see Bucky leaning against the door.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, a smirk on his face.

“Nope. I think Steve was going to confess his undying love, though. You might want to stick around.” You watch as a blush spreads across his cheeks and chuckle. You look back over at Steve, who is now standing beside your bed. You smile at him. He leans down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes at the contact. He pulls away and brushes your hair out of your face.

“I’ll be back later.” You nod, and watch as he walks out the door, pausing to whisper something to Bucky before leaving. Bucky nods solemnly before walking around the bed, scooting his chair so his knees are, once again, pushing against the edge of it.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice sincere.

“Fine,” you say with a chuckle. It wasn’t until it was pointed out that you realized you do say it a lot, even when you aren’t fine. Bucky chuckles as well.

“Well, I… uh… I wanted to talk to you, about some of the stuff you mentioned earlier.”

“We really don’t have to, Bucky.”

“I want to. I feel like I need to say this.” You nod, knowing the feeling of needing to say something. Needing it out. He clears his throat before beginning.

“I… uh, when Steve got me out, I didn’t think I was worth it. I did so much damage… There was no way I could ever do enough good to tip the scales in my favor. I knew it was going to be hard to convince everyone I was worth it, but you, uh, the first time I met you, you never looked at me like that. When Steve told me about you, about your goodness, I couldn’t imagine why you’d ever side with me. You went against Tony, the only father you’d ever known, to protect me. And I, uh, I knew I wasn’t worth that.”

“But you were, Bucky. You didn’t do any of that stuff. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that now, but you sided with me over Tony and I, uh, that meant something to me.” His words echo your own from earlier that day. He looks over at you. “I don’t think you realized that you became important to me, and I wasn’t even sure why. After we came back to the compound, and after I got to know you better, you became my whole world. My whole world revolved around you.” You watch his eyes fill with tears. “The day I realized something was wrong, that you were too edgy, too… I don’t know. You’d sneak off to your room and I knew something was wrong. That day was one of the scariest of my life because I didn’t know how to help you.” A tear slips out and runs down his cheek.

“When you shook in my arms, telling me that you needed help, I knew I couldn’t walk away. You were it for me. This was it for me. If I had to hold your hair back and hold you through the withdrawals every day for the rest of forever, I’d do it because it meant I could be with you.” You feel a tear sleep down your own cheek. “And then you got better, and the first time I saw you smile sober, the first time you laughed, it was like I could see the sun for the first time. And even then, you chose me. You chose me completely sober, and that meant something to me.”

“The closer we got, the more I fell until it felt like a freefall. I was terrified that I’d hurt you. I was terrified that I would break your heart and we’d end up… well, we’d end up here. So I never told you. We were friends and I knew that was going to have to be enough. I’d suffer for the rest of forever if it meant I’d have you in my life, even if just as friends.”

“But it wasn’t your job to keep my heart safe, Bucky.” Your words are barely above a whisper.

“Isn’t that love, though? Putting your happiness over my own?” Quiet settles over the room. After a few moments, Bucky continues. “When you introduced me to Sarah, she was nice. She’s like you, in some ways. Not in the important ways, but she was enough. She wanted to be around me and in my twisted up in knots brain, I thought she was my ticket to keeping you around. Your two best friends dating would have to be a good thing.” You close your eyes. You hadn’t thought of it that way.

“And I know now that it was stupid. I should have at least told you. But I was afraid that you’d leave…” He lets out a sad laugh. “So, I tried to distract myself. Distract myself from you with her. And it worked, for a little while. When we talked about it, you told me you were happy for me. That you wanted me to be happy and I wanted to scream that you’d make me happy, but I knew that would be selfish. And then you left. You didn’t even say goodbye. I just got up one day and your room was empty… Steve told me you left. That you didn’t want to see anyone for a while. And I always kind of thought you’d come home. That you’d come back to me…” You look up find him watching you closely.

“It broke me.” The words hang in the air for a minute, dread and guilt steeping into your stomach. You look down at your hands.

“Then, I, uh… She wasn’t you. I spent some time in cryo in Wakanda and they helped me to, uh, they got rid of the code words. And then Steve showed up. I expected you to be with him. He hadn’t heard from you, though, and I fought like hell because I wanted this world to be better for you, wherever you were. I wanted you to be happy.”

“Buck…” you whisper, but he continues.

“When I woke up and found out it had been 5 years, my first thought was of you. I almost showed up at your apartment. I found you and Steve talked me out of it. I wish now that I did. I wish I could have stopped it…”

“It’s not your fault, Buck. Not totally, anyways. It was always my choice.”

“You keep saying that, but it was, my fault I mean. I made stupid choices when your heart hung in the balance.” You can’t argue with him. He was stupid, but you know now that it hurt him too.

“When you walked it to Tony’s house, it was like the world stopped spinning, or it started again after being stopped for years. And then I saw it. Your shaking, your sunglasses, your stumble, and I knew. It was like before, and I was just as scared as last time. I moved my eyes off of you for 1 minute, and then you were gone. And if I had just watched you walk away… if I had just stopped you…”

“Hey, it’s not your fault, Bucky. It’s really not. I was… uh... I was overwhelmed by a lot of things. Tony was gone and I didn’t even get to say goodbye because I was too high to come visit. Honestly, that day, you were one of the furthest things from my mind.” He lets out a sad chuckle, but continues to look at his hands. “Hey,” you say, grabbing his flesh hand in your own. “I’m okay. I’m here because of you.”

“And Steve,” he mumbles.

“My boys have always had my back,” you say with a smile. He gives you a half-hearted smile. “And don’t tell Steve, but you’re my favorite.” You wink at him and Bucky laughs.

“I missed this,” he whispers, squeezing your hand with his own.

“Me too,” you whisper back.

“Good morning, Y/N.” You don’t move to look at her, so she stops at the end of your bed. “How are you feeling today?”

“Fine,” you say, your usual answer slipping out, but you remember what Dr. Raynor had said about using ‘fine’ so much. She chuckles.

“Are you okay to talk today?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, still looking out the window. She must hear the sadness in your voice, because she clears her throat. You glance over at her.

“Want to try again? How are you feeling today?”

“Sad.” Dr. Raynor gives you a small smile, before taking her usual seat beside you, pushing Bucky’s chair away from your bed as she does.

“Anything in particular bringing out that feeling today?”

“I miss being outside. It’s been… too long since I was outside by myself.”

“I see. How does that make you feel sad?”

“I guess I just miss being able to make my own choices.” Dr. Raynor hums, then writes something down on her notepad.

“That must be very hard for you.”

“Yeah,” you reply lamely.

“Dr. Banner says you will get to move out of the med bay tomorrow,” Dr. Raynor says, changing the subject entirely. “How do you feel about that?”

“Uhm, I mean, I can’t leave the Tower so it’s not going to be much different.”

“You’d be out of the bed. Unhooked from all the machines.”

“That’s true. That’ll be nice. Changing my clothes is a… uh, process,” you say with a chuckle.

“I bet, with all those tubes and wires. Are you feeling confident moving forward?” You think for few moments. Confident? Probably not confident, but you were excited to be out of the med-bay. You only had to stick around for 2 more weeks and then you’d disappear. Not that you’d tell Dr. Raynor that.

“Confident is a bit of a powerful word. I’d say more like… tentatively optimistic.” Dr. Raynor laughs at your comment.

“Well, that’s something and we’re not going to pretend that this is a difficult transition for you. We will take tentative optimism. I feel like I should ask how things are going with James? He seems to be here often.”

“Yeah. He’s like a leech. I can’t get rid of the guy.” You laugh at your joke, but Dr. Raynor doesn’t seem to think it’s very funny.

“Have you spoken about the factors that contributed to your relapse?”

“Uhm, no, not really.”

“Do you feel it would make your transition easier?” You think for a minute, feeling a sense of panic build in your chest. Dr. Raynor must notice your heartrate speed up.

“I won’t force you to do something you’re not ready to do, Y/N.” You take a deep breath, but nod your head.

“I think I need to get it out,” you say quietly, and she nods.

“Would you like me there?”

“Please?”

“Absolutely. I have time now, if you’re ready.” You know that if you prolong the conversation, you’ll talk yourself out of it.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” you say out loud.

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?” Dr. Raynor looks around the room, trying to find the source of the voice.

“Can you have Bucky come to the med bay please?”

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N.”

“What was that?”

“AI. Tony designed him…” You trail off, panic for the impending conversation mixing with grief in a nauseating twist that makes you close your eyes.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, just nervous.”

“I’ll be right here if you need me. We can stop at any time.”

“Okay.” You open your eyes when you hear Bucky enter the room.

“Y/N? Are you okay? F.R.I.D.A.Y. said you needed to see me?”

“Yes, James. We were talking about Y/N’s transition out of the med bay.”

“There’s some stuff that I need to tell you.” Your words come out a little louder than a whisper. Bucky wrings his hands in front of him, his anxiety building off your own.

“Take a seat,” Dr. Raynor says, moving another chair around to the other side of your bed. He sat and looked at you expectantly.

“I… uh…” You look down at your hands, not able to make eye contact with him. You take a deep breath. “When we… uh… Ugh. Words, Y/N,” you say more to yourself than anyone else.

“Deep breath, Y/N.” It surprises you that it’s Bucky that says it, and you look up at him. He’s smiling at you knowingly. “It’s just me. It’s okay.” You do take a deep breath and look back at your hands. You let out a sad laugh.

“It’s just you. It’s always been just you. There was a time when you were the most important person in my life. I couldn’t imagine a day when I didn’t have you. And then, I.. uh.. I lost you and-“ Bucky interrupts you.

“You never lost me, Y/N. I wanted to go to you every day. I wanted you by my side. Always. I’m so sorry that I hurt you, and I know that you may never be able to forgive me, but I am always going to be here. I am always going to be here, because you deserved that from me before, and I let you down. It won’t happen again, Y/N.”

“I know, Bucky,” you start, but he just continues talking.

“And I know that you might never trust me again. And I totally get that, but I want you to know that I will always be here, by your side.”

“Bucky,” you try to start again, but he, again, starts rambling.

“Shut up!” you scream at him and Dr. Raynor bristles on the other side of the bed. Bucky looks from you to Dr. Raynor, and back to you. “You got to say your peace. Now it’s my turn. I just need 5 freaking minutes without your groveling or apologizing. It’s my turn.” He looks at you with wide eyes, before nodding, telling you to continue. You take a deep, shaky breath.

“When Steve found me, I didn’t want to be found. See, there was a reason I was picking fights with the bigger guy. I was young and dumb, yes, but I was also pretty okay with not being alive anymore, but I didn’t have the guts to do it myself.” Bucky moves to start talking and you tisk at him, and he sits back in his chair, shutting his mouth again. “When you are shuffled from home to home and turned into nothing more than the money that the government gives your family to keep you around, you learn pretty quickly that there really isn’t much you’re worth. So when Steve gave me a purpose, a family that actually wanted me around, I found myself believing it. And I know the intensity that Steve cares, so when he became intent on finding you, his long-lost brother in all respects beside blood, of course I offered to help. Of course I stood beside him, beside you. And from the moment I saw you, I knew you’d be important.” You feel your cheeks warm but push through.

“We didn’t talk much, but you were the one who noticed the changes in me the first time, before anyone else. You cared enough to see that I was different. And that means something to me. You held my hair while I was detoxing. You slept in that awful chair beside my bed in this same room. You didn’t leave, even when I begged you to go. And that meant something to me. I trusted you. When I was better, when I felt like myself, I introduced you to Sarah and she was the only person from my before. And you knew that. You knew she was important to me. And you knew you were important to me. You knew we weren’t just friends.”

“When you went behind my back, you didn’t just take away one friend. You took away all of them. I had 3 people in this world, you, Sarah and Steve, and you took them all with you. I couldn’t have you and I wanted you to be happy. So, you got Sarah. And I couldn’t make Steve choose between us, so I made the choice for him. I had no one. I had nothing. My entire life for years had been the Avengers and the good we did. And you took that from me.” You feel anger rising in your voice, tears stinging your eyes. “You took my whole life just because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, Barnes, and that’s not something I just get to wake up one day and forget.” You reach up and rub your eyes angrily. “I promised I wouldn’t cry any more tears over you and yet, here we are.”

“And how do you feel about that, James?” Dr. Raynor asks. You jump at her voice, forgetting that she was in the room with you. He looks back at her, then down to his hands.

“I know,” was all he said.

“Now you don’t have anything to say,” you mumble. Bucky stiffens beside you, but you look over at Dr. Raynor. “Anything you’d like to add, doc?” Your voice comes out angrier than you meant it to.

“I think that was a good start, Y/N. I know there is more, but you can take it at your pace.”

“Thanks,” you say, looking at your hands.

“Well, Y/N, same time tomorrow?” she asks you, standing up.

“I’ll probably be here,” you joke, though you don’t know when they are moving you out of the med bay. She smiles at you, then glances over at Bucky.

“I will see you for our appointment Thursday?”

“Yep,” Bucky mumbles, nodding to her as she walks out of the med bay. Silence settles on the two of you. You play with your fingers anxiously.

“You know, after I left, after I got my own place, I decided I’d go to our place.” The words fall out of your mouth before you could stop them. “For old time’s sake. I didn’t expect to see you there, but there you were, dancing with her and I just watched you from the corner.” You glanced over to see him looking at you with sorrow in his eyes. “You looked so happy. I was so happy that she made you so happy. It’s all I ever wanted for you. I knew I’d never make you that happy.” You look down to your hands in your lap. “It’s so stupid because I knew it would hurt. I knew my heart would break but I needed to see it for myself. I needed to see you happy, one last time.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek. “It was my goodbye. And then… when the blip happened, when Steve called to tell me you had…” Tears were steaming down your face freely then. “Life just didn’t feel livable anymore. I wandered around the City for a few weeks before running into a guy I went to high school with. He’s a doctor and offered to look at my back. It’s never been the same since that fall in Budapest.” You chuckle but continue. “I didn’t fill the prescription for weeks. I think I always knew I’d end up here, or worse, but it got to the point that I didn’t care. You were gone and I couldn’t get the feeling of your hands out of my mind. I couldn’t get you out of my head.” You look up at him again and he’s still watching you, but he’s crying this time, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Dr. Raynor told me that she’d never met someone who woke up one day and decided to be an addict, but I’m not going to lie and say that’s not what it was this time. I needed to not think for a while. I knew this was the way I wanted to do it. I needed to forget your hands in mine, and I needed it quickly. Things spiraled from there…” you trail off, looking out the window. You know you need to tell him. You know he needs to know, but you also know it’s your choice. You look back over at Bucky.

“A few weeks before my OD, my dealer… he… uh…” you look at your hands, not able to look at Bucky. “He forced himself on me.”

“He did what?” Bucky all but growled. You look up at him to see anger written on his every feature.

“I was.. uh.. I was high. Too high to stop him.”

“Who is he?”

“I’m not telling you that, Bucky.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“You will not. He’s not worth your time, Bucky.”

“He touched you, Y/N.”

“I need you to calm down, please,” you say, looking at him with sad eyes. His anger melts away and he returns to his sad eyes.

“When I woke up later and realized what happened, something inside me broke. It was like my last shred of desire to live was gone. I went to a rave, and I was awake for like… 90 hours or something. Even when I slept, I woke up high or drunk. And then I did the same thing again. Every day was the same. The pills or patch or alcohol was the only thing that kept me alive.” The irony of that wasn’t lost on you and you chuckled but realized too late that it probably wasn’t funny.

“When Steve called to tell me that Tony…” You look up at Bucky, who is crying again. That’s all it takes for you to lose it. A sob wracks through your body and you collapse over, your arms resting on your folded legs, and sob.

“Hey, hey, hey, doll,” Bucky says, climbing into the bed with you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “I’m here.” You feel him kiss the side of your head, and feel his tears wetting your hair. It’s not long before you fall asleep in his arms.

“Doctor Raynor is coming to see you today,” Bucky tells you one day when he brings you your breakfast. You look at him.

“Who is Doctor Raynor and why is she coming again?” You don’t remember him ever mentioning a Doctor Raynor before.

“She’s my shrink. She had to rearrange her schedule to come see you and I expect you to take it seriously.”

“I don’t need a shrink Bucky. I am fine.” You roll your eyes at him.

“You overdosed, Y/N. That’s kind of the definition of not fine.” He sits beside your bed, eating his own breakfast. You grumble, but it’s no use arguing. Bucky is one of the most stubborn people you’ve ever met.

An hour or so later, Steve brings a kind, but stern looking woman into the med bay. You look up as she walks in and Bucky nods to her. He stands up, but pauses, looking down at you.

“Be nice, Y/N.” You chuckle but he gives you a serious look.

“Best behavior. Scout’s promise.” He chuckles at your answer, then follows Steve out, leaving you and the doctor alone in the med bay.

“I am sure James has told you all about me.” You almost bristle at her use of James but try to suppress it. You nod at her statement though. “I’m here to talk about the circumstances of your overdose.” You chuckle.

“You and everyone else, it would seem.” You fold your hands in front of you and look down at them. The woman walks around the bed toward the chair Bucky usually sat in.

“May I?” she asks, gesturing to the chair. You nod and she sits, though she does scoot it back before doing so. “So, Y/N. Tell me about yourself.” You laugh out loud.

“Can we skip that part? It’s not the important stuff anyways. You want to know why I’m an addict.”

“I didn’t say that, Y/N. You did.”

“It’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”

“Actually, no, I wasn’t. I was thinking that you were someone with a lot of pressure on your shoulders and who doesn’t have anyone to share the burden with.” You look up at her. “Am I wrong?” You look away for a minute before looking back at her.

“You’re not wrong.” She nods.

“Let’s jump into the important stuff then. Why do you push everyone away?”

“Would you believe me if I said that I didn’t push them away? That they left?”

“The hundreds of missed calls from Steve Rogers over the past 7 years would say otherwise, but sure. Why do you feel that way?” You sigh.

“My parents died when I was young. I grew up in foster care, passed from family to family when they realized I wasn’t the perfect girl they wanted. I got out when I turned 18 and ended up with the wrong crowd. But you know all that, I’m sure.” Dr. Raynor chuckles, but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “I bet you didn’t know that I almost got myself killed when I was 19 because I picked a fight with someone bigger than my own size, and that’s how I met Steve. He swooped in like a hero and rescued me but realized that I wasn’t going to stop. He saw something in me, the stupid foster kid with no sense of self-preservation and brought me back to the Tower. I met the Avengers and Tony kept me on as an assistant, but I managed to weasel my way into a few missions, proving that I could fight just like the rest of them.” Dr. Raynor nods, taking notes on her little notepad as you talked. She looked up at you expectantly, but you don’t continue.

“Where do the pills come into play?” You chuckle at her question.

“Started out innocently enough.”

“It usually does, Y/N. I have never met someone who woke up one day and decided to be an addict.” You nod at her comment.

“I got hurt and the pills helped. I realized, though, that as much as they helped with the physical pain, they helped with the emotional pain. I guess you could say I needed a shrink a long time ago.” It’s Dr. Raynor’s turn to chuckle at your comment.

“How long did you use that time?”

“A few months. Bucky was living here by then and he is the one who noticed it.” You feel a pang of sadness, but hope you hide it well. “Got me through the detox and I was fine.”

“Fine. You use that word a lot for someone who deals with such intense emotional turmoil, Y/N.” You chuckle.

“Yeah. I figure if I say it enough, I’ll start to believe it.”

“The fact that we’re here should tell you something about that thought process.” You chuckle again.

“You’re not wrong.”

“So what happened this time? Your doctor, Dr…” she looks down at the notebook in front of her. “Dr. Banner said it had been 4 years of using at the time of your overdose?” She looks up at you expectantly. You nod.

“Uhm, I mean, the blip happened and I got some help with an old back injury. I almost didn’t fill the prescription. I think I kind of knew this would happen.”

“Why did you then?”

“Uhm, I’m not.. I mean, I think I wanted a break for a little while. Thought I could handle it. But it went from bad to worse and here we are.”

“People don’t use like you did for 4 years and get out of it alive, Y/N. You mentioned the blip. What about the blip pushed you to this?”

“Bucky.” The word slips out before you can stop yourself and you sigh. The doctor writes something on her paper.

“What about Bucky?”

“He was gone.”

“And you were still close when the blip happened?”

“I mean, no. I hadn’t seen him in 2 years when the blip happened.”

“Why not?”

“Just drifted apart I guess,” you said quietly and you’re pretty sure that Dr. Raynor doesn’t buy that, but she doesn’t say anything more about it.

“What escalated you to an overdose?” You thought back.

“It was a lot of little things, I guess. It took more and more to make myself forget. I needed more pills, or more alcohol. I did everything I could to get rid of myself and the dreams, and the pain and all the rest of it. And then…” you trailed off. Dr. Raynor just waited patiently. “I was, uh, I was raped.” The words come out quietly and Dr. Raynor nods beside me, writing something else on the paper in front of her. “Everything kind of spiraled from there.” You look down at your hands.

“That loss of control must have been very difficult for you.”

“I deserved it.” She furrows her brows.

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean, I was the one who was high. I did that. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Were you able to consent to what was happening?” You look up at her. She is looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t think so, no. I couldn’t have told you my name let alone anything else.”

“Then it was rape, and no one deserves that. Ever.” Her words are firm, telling you there is no room for argument. “No matter how drunk or high you are, you deserve autonomy over your body.” You look at her, tears filling in your eyes. You reach up and rub them away harshly before she talks again. “I would like to continue meeting with you, Y/N. If you’d let me.” You nod, not looking at her. “I know this is difficult for you. You’ve learned that those who you allow in leave, and that makes trusting me difficult. But you don’t need to worry about me leaving. I am here as long you allow me to be.”

“Thank you,” you mumble. Dr. Raynor stands, and you look up at her.

“You’ll get through this, Y/N. I already know you are a strong young woman, and you will get through this.” She smiles at you, before walking around your bed, stopping at the doorway. She turns back to me. “I’ll see you in a few days.” You smile at her.

“I’ll see you then,” you say, and she nods, walking out the door.

It’s a few minutes before Bucky enters the room again, walking back around to his chair, scooting it back up to the bed, his knees pushed against the side of it.

“So how was Dr. Raynor?”

“She didn’t run away screaming so I guess that’s a positive.” Bucky laughs at your comment, and you would listen to it every minute of the rest of your life and never get tired of it. You blush at your thought and look away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t mention it.

“Bruce says you are almost ready to get off these machines.” You look over at him and he’s studying you.

“That’s good,” is your lame response.

“You would have to stay in the Tower.” You nod, not surprised. It would be months before they would trust you enough to move back into the City. If ever, you realize, and the same cagey feeling from before returns with a vengeance. You look over Bucky’s head, out the window behind him. He turns around, looking in the same place. You sigh.

A while later, you wake up from a restless nap. The longer you are clean, the more the nightmares return, and you wake up to a sad, knowing smile from Bucky. You rub your eyes and stretch and open your eyes to him holding up a hoodie and sweatpants.

“What’s that for?”

“I’m breaking you out.” He has a smile on his face, but you are just confused. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Put these on.” He tosses them on top of you and turns around, even covering his eyes with his hands. You laugh but move to stand up. You get the sweatpants on easily, but, after getting your hospital gown off, you get tangled in the heart monitor cords and IVs and everything else connected to yourself, the hoodie over your head awkwardly. After a moment of trying to untangle yourself, you sigh.

“Bucky, I need help.” He turns around quickly, but you watch a blush spread over his cheeks as he sees you in your bra, the hoodie over your head awkwardly. You blush, too, but Bucky gets to work untangling you from the wires and cords, and, with every brush of his fingers, cold or warm, on your skin, you curse at the reaction your body has to the super soldier. Finally, though, you are untangled from the cords and wires and the hoodie covers your torso. You look down at it, realizing it is a Brooklyn hoodie. You know then that it’s Bucky’s and your cheeks heat up again.

“Ready?” he says, the blush finally leaving his cheeks. You nod and try to stand up. Your legs are shaky, but you steady yourself. Bucky places his hand gently on the small of your back, probably trying to help steady you, but the contact makes your knees weak again. You fall forward and his arms are around your waist before you fall to the ground. He pulls you against him, steadying you. You mumble a thank you into his chest, and curse yourself for your antics, but you feel at home in his arms. After a few seconds, Bucky looks down at you.

“You good?” You nod and he releases your body, hands staying close to make sure that you are steady. You smile at him after a moment, nodding and Bucky grabs onto one of the hospital poles beside your bed. You realize it has a small heart monitor and your IV bag on one pole, telling you that Bruce at least knows about your adventure. Bucky walks slowly beside you as you walk toward the elevator. Once you, Bucky and all your equipment are in the elevator, he pushes the button to take you to the roof. You look up at him with curious eyes, but he just smiles at you.

After a few moments, the doors open, and you see the sunset across the horizon. The Tower is tall enough that you can see for miles in any direction, and you feel the warm air on your skin for the first time in weeks. Bucky smiles at you and takes your hand in his own, walking you toward the edge of the building where he has two chairs and a small picnic set up.

“You didn’t have to do this, Bucky,” you say as you sit in one of the chairs. He smiles at you.

“I know, but I wanted to. I know how it bothered you to be locked inside and you needed to eat anyways.”

“Thank you,” you say, your eyes filling with tears again. Bucky smiles and nods. You look back out at the sunset, the sky filling with all kinds of bright colors and your stomach filling with butterflies.

“What’s that?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you. Bruce glances over his shoulder, then pads over to you, the long paper flowing behind him.

“It’s a printout of your EKG. It’s measuring your heart’s electrical signals.” He shows you the paper. “This,” he says, showing you the top of the paper, “was when we first got you here. See how it’s very irregular?” You nod. The lines are jagged, no rhyme or reason to their spikes and drops. “And here,” he picks up paper further down. “they are starting to regulate themselves. That’s as the opiods are leaving your system.” You look up at him.

“Can you tell me what you did?” You have to know. You have to know what happened to you.

“Well, Tony had Narcan in his medicine cabinet. We gave one to everyone after… last time. We figured that’s what you had taken. After getting you back to the Tower, we just got you intubated before your airway collapsed. Charcoal in your stomach and IV fluids. We had to pump your stomach after that…”

“And then we waited.” The voice comes from the doorway where Steve stands, leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded in front of him. You vaguely knew he’d been avoiding you. You had been awake for hours and you hadn’t talked to him yet. “We sat beside you and there were times that I had to watch the rise and fall of your chest to convince myself that you were still alive.” He walks into the room, standing at the end of your bed. You turn to see Bruce walk out the door and you’re alone with him.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I know you are, Y/N. I’m sorry too. I am sorry I wasn’t there for you. I am sorry I didn’t show up at your apartment and drag you back here myself. But we can’t live in the past.” You nod. You feel guilt that Steve blames himself, when this was all obviously your choice, but you know that objecting won’t change his feelings. “Can you tell me what happened? Why?” You shrug.

“I was fine for a while. Hurt and heartbroken, but fine. I got a crappy apartment in Queens. Then the blip happened. Everything was chaos and everywhere I looked, someone was alone. Everyone lost someone. The first time you called after the blip, I wanted to answer. I wanted to cry when I heard your voice. I felt calmer and safer knowing you were out there. But then you told me that Bucky had…” you pause. “I couldn’t handle it anymore. Knowing he was out there happy with someone who loved him was one thing. Knowing he was just… gone, I couldn’t do it.” You look up at him with tears in your eyes, hoping he could read between the lines. Hoping he knew you still loved Bucky and that he wouldn’t make you spell it out for him. He nodded and motioned for you to continue.

“I ran into an old friend, a doctor, who looked at my back. It still bothers me sometimes and he gave me oxy. I almost didn’t fill it. I almost threw the prescription away. But I hurt and I knew it would help, if only for a minute. Everything kind of just... spiraled from there. When my dealer…” You look down at your hands, then, unable to look at Steve. “when he…” Tears fall from your eyes, dropping to your hands.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to talk about it.” Steve is sitting beside you now, holding your hands in his own. You shake your head.

“No, I need to say it. I need to say it out loud.” You take a deep breath. “When my dealer forced himself on me, when I was high and couldn’t tell him no, it broke me. I had never…” You shake your head, wiping the tears off your face angrily. “That was my first time and he ruined it. I didn’t want to be alive after that. If I had to be awake, if I had to live, I was going to do it on my terms.” You look up at Steve to see a mixture of anger and sadness in his eyes.

“I tried it all, Steve. Crack, heroin, speed, LSD,” you chuckle to yourself. “Nothing got the feeling of his hands out of my head.”

“I’ll kill him,” Steve grumbles, barely audible, and you laugh.

“No, you won’t.” Steve furrows his brow. “He’s not even worth your time. But I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything.” There is no sign of hesitation in his voice.

“Don’t tell Bucky.”

“It’s not my story to tell, Y/N. But I do think he needs to know. When you’re ready.” You nod, but you know that you won’t be telling him anything any time soon. In fact, as soon as you can, you’re going to get as far away from Bucky as you can.

The afternoon and evening pass quietly, Bruce checking on things every now and again, and Steve trying his best to keep you company. You’re tired, though, and the nausea that bites at your stomach is almost overwhelming. A lot of the afternoon passes in comfortable silence.

“Captain Rogers?” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rings through the room.

“Yes?” he says to the AI.

“Mr. Wilson would like you to meet him in the command center.”

“Alright. Thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y.” He looks to you, and you nod.

“Go. I’m fine. I’ll get some sleep.” He nods and stands up. He squeezes your hand before walking out the door. You sigh as he does, grateful to be alone. You close your eyes, and for the first time in years, no drugs in your system to lull you into oblivion, you dream.

You open the door to Bucky’s apartment, your arms loaded with grocery bags. You knew he had just returned from a lengthy mission and you were sure his refrigerator would be empty.

“Honey, I’m home!” you say with a chuckle, an inside joke between the two of them. You were also sure that the apartment would be empty. Bucky was probably in the command center debriefing with Steve. You hadn’t seen either of them in a few weeks.

You busy yourself with putting the groceries away, organizing Bucky’s fridge and cupboards. You stop, though, when you hear a crash. You listen, trying not to panic. You tiptoe toward Bucky’s room, hoping that you wouldn’t come face to face with an intruder. You are surprised when you hear… giggling?

“You’re a dork, James,” you hear and immediately recognize the voice. Sarah, your best friend. You had introduced Bucky and Sarah a few weeks before. She was one of your few friends that had stuck with you through your addiction and saw you safely to the other side.

“But I’m your dork,” you hear Bucky’s deep voice say, and you’re pretty sure you could sink to the ground and scream just then. You don’t, though, not until you get to your room. When you’re there, safely tucked into bed, you bury your head in your pillow and scream until nothing comes out.

“Y/N!” you hear as a large hand shakes you awake. You sit up straight in the bed, almost banging Bucky in the head. You pant, your throat raw from screaming. You look at him with wide eyes.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You’re awake now,” you hear him say, but you just continue panting, trying to keep your composure. Before you can stop yourself, though, tears fall from your eyes, a sob ripping through your body.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. get Bruce,” Bucky says, glancing between you and the machines near your bed. You’re sure that he thinks there is something wrong, that your body was the problem. Little does he know that it’s your brain that is broken. Always has been.

“Y/N, can you tell me what is wrong?” Bruce says, jogging into the room. He stops in front of his computer, looking over the screen. He looks back over at you, still crying, your face buried in your hands. “Y/N, I need you to look at me, please.” Bruce walks over to the edge of the bed, placing his hands on the rail along the side of it. You try to calm yourself down, breathing deeply, in through your nose and out through your mouth like your therapist taught you. You look up at Bruce after a minute.

“Was she asleep?” Bruce’s eyes flicker up to Bucky on the other side of you, and he nods, looking back at you. “Have you ever had a panic attack before, Y/N?” You get yourself to nod, finally starting to feel a little more control over your body. “What were you dreaming about?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, too quickly. Bruce hums beside you.

“Do these dreams happen often?” He doesn’t believe your response, obviously.

“Not until now. They’ve been gone for 4 years.” You lay back on the pillow, exhausted, emotionally and physically. Closing your eyes, you add “Every night before though.” You hear Bruce stand up. He walks back over to the computer, and you hear him typing something. You open your eyes to see Bucky dragging a chair over to side of your bed, his knees against the mattress. “What are you doing?” you ask him.

“I’m sitting beside you.”

“Why?”

“Because I should have been there. We wouldn’t be in this situation if I had pushed you a little more. Made you stay here. Something.”

“You were gone.”

“There was more I could have done, before that, and you know it. You should have been with us in Wakanda.” His eyes are full of concern and regret, and you want to argue but he’s right. I should have been beside him and Steve in Wakanda. Not in New York alone.

“It was my choice.” Even as you say it, though, you’re not sure you believe it.

“It was never your choice, Y/N. You didn’t choose this. You chose an escape, just like the rest of us. We all have something.” That’s something about Bucky. He understood, at least to some extent, why you did what you did. The first time and again now. He understood.

After a few minutes, F.R.I.D.A.Y. asks Bruce to meet Steve in the command center and, after Bucky agrees to stay with you, he walks out of the room. Silence falls between you, and you close your eyes, trying to pretend to sleep. It doesn’t work though.

“I have nightmares, too, you know. About the things that I did when I was the Winter Soldier.” You glance over at him, but he is leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed. “My shrink wanted me to make amends, but it hasn’t helped. I don’t know if he’ll ever be totally gone.” You close your eyes, letting him talk. “In Wakanda, they deprogramed me, so the code phrases don’t work anymore.” You look back over at him.

“I’m so happy for you, Bucky.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to know I won’t turn into a killing machine at any time.” Bucky lets out a shaky chuckle. “He’s still there though. The nightmares remind me that he’ll always be there.” He looks over at you, then. His eye contact feels more intimate than you’d like, but you can’t look away. “I understand wanting to not remember, Y/N. I’m always here if you want to talk, though.”

“I don’t.”

“Maybe not now, but if you do, I’m here.” You nod, but don’t say anything more. You close your eyes and, after a few minutes, you are almost asleep when he speaks again.

“I hope that someday you forgive me. For what I did. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.” You let out a sigh. You knew this conversation was one that needed to be had. You had just wished you were high, or drunk, or unconscious, when it happened.

“I don’t even think about it anymore, Bucky.”

“I know that’s not true, Y/N. You were dreaming about it, weren’t you?” You look over at him then. He’s looking at you, and you never were good at lying to him.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Bucky. We weren’t even together. We were friends. I told you to go. I told you to be with her.”

“We were never just friends, Y/N. You and I both know it.” His voice has an intensity that makes your stomach twist in knots. “I was stupid. And I hope that there is a day when you find it in yourself to forgive me.”

“I wish it was that simple,” you mumble, but give him a sad smile.

“I know.”

A few hours later, you are sure you are still dreaming when you hear humming beside you. You can’t force your eyes open. They simply won’t budge, but you listen to the humming mixing with the beeping and somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder who it is. You listen and listen until you are asleep again.

The next time you wake, pain fills your body, and you are only vaguely aware that you are throwing up. You have no control over it. Hands roll you onto your side. Whose you don’t know, but you are thankful for them because it’s easier this way, but you throw up and throw up and throw up until your body has nothing left to give, and you throw up still. Stomach acid at first, then nothing at all. After what feels like hours but could have been minutes, you’re not sure, you feel the hands rest you back against the pillow, and sweet darkness comes again.

Cool hands on your forehead, a cloth on your neck, you feel like your skin in on fire. Every inch of your body feels like lava, and you are sure you’re dying. You think about Bucky, though, which you find stupid. You wish you didn’t yell at him. You wish that wasn’t the last memory he’d have of you. You wish you could give him a better memory. You vaguely, somewhere in the back of your mind, wonder if his hands are the hands on your forehead. You equal parts hope so and hope they’re not. You were only just starting to forget the way his hands felt on your body.

When you start to feel yourself slipping away from the darkness, you are almost sad. There is a part of you that wished it would stay, wished that you could stay in the darkness forever, but then you scold yourself. You know you shouldn’t be wishing for that. You know that’s death. The more you wake up, though, the more you wish you could go back. Every inch of your body feels as though you are being ripped limb from limb. Your skin is stretched too tightly. Your hair feels as though each strand is being pulled in a different direction. Bees sting you over and over, your entire body. You wish for death.

“Y/N?” you start to hear, but it’s far away and you’re not sure you heard it correctly. You can’t respond anyways, whoever they are. You just wait, stuck in your body that is slowly dying, and there is no way for you to get out.

Days, hours, minutes later, you can’t tell, you try to open your eyes, but when you do, it’s blinding. Everything is bright, too bright, white searing into your brain. You groan quietly, but try to keep them open, try to adjust. You finally adjust to the white of the room, and you realize it’s a hospital room. Or at least it is made to be one. You realize it is the med bay at the Avenger’s Tower, but there are many more machines than usual. The events from before you passed out start to slowly come into focus. Tony. Pepper. Steve. It’s not too soon, though, that you remember what you need. You remember what will stop the pain. Stop the hurt. You look around the room to find it empty. On a chair near your bed is a neat pile of your clothes, your bag sitting on top.

You shift your body, pain searing through every inch, but you turn your body, hoping to fall on the floor. You do, with a thud, wires tensing and tubes twisting every way from your body. You don’t care, though. One rips off your chest and the beeping machine behind you starts to beep louder. You drag yourself to your bag, dump all its contents on the ground as you frantically look for the mint tin.

“Y/N?” Your eyes dart to the door where Bucky. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. Tell the others she’s awake,” he says, his tone calm as he rushes to your side. “No, no no no Y/N, it’s okay,” he says, grabbing your hands and his strength is no match for yours on a good day.

“GET OFF ME,” you say, trying to yank away from his grasp, but he doesn’t let go. He pulls you into his body, holding you tightly across your arms. “LET ME GO!” You are screaming, kicking and thrashing, trying to get away from the super solider, but it’s no use. You know, logically, it is no use. Your kicking sends the mint tin clattering across the room, and you try to lunge for it, but you don’t budge. Your screaming continues until Bruce and Steve rush through the door.

“Y/N,” Steve says, crouching in front of you. “You’re safe.” He is trying to calm you down, but it does nothing.

“I AM GOING TO DIE!” you scream in his face and his eyes flash with sympathy. “LET ME GO!” You’re still thrashing and kicking, but Bucky doesn’t loosen his grip. Bruce crouches down beside Steve, who holds down your right leg, stopping it’s thrashing easily, and you feel a slight pinch. You continue kicking and pulling against Bucky until, after a few minutes, you feel your legs and arms tire, like you’re losing control of them. You know it’s whatever Bruce gave you, and you wish for the darkness once again.

It never comes, though. Even when your body doesn’t cooperate, when you can’t move, even after Bucky picks you up and lays you back on the bed, the darkness is nowhere to be found. You are trapped in your body, pain searing through every nerve and you know exactly what can help. Pills, pills, pills. That’s all you think about. That’s every thought. Pills.

You hear Bucky, Bruce and Steve talking in hushed whispers across the room, but you can’t get yourself to care about what they are saying. You look at the mint tin, still on the ground near the chair, all the rest of the contents of your bag scattered around. You stare at it, not blinking, willing it to move. You have seen people do all sorts of things and you just want it to work, this one time. It doesn’t though.

Bucky pulls one of the chairs up beside your bed, looking at you with concern in his eyes. You look at him for a moment, before turning away from him.

“Don’t be that way, doll,” he says with a chuckle. You hate the effect he has on you, even on whatever mild horse tranquilizer Bruce had given you. You want to roll your eyes, tell him to leave you alone, but you wouldn’t even you could. Even now, in this big mess, you know you want him beside you.

A while later, you feel the tranquilizer wearing off and you’re able to move a little more. You look up as Bruce walks to the side of your bed, crouching down to be on your eye level.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” He has a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Fine,” you rasp out, your voice tired from screaming and disuse.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, a smile still on his face, pity in his eyes. “Okay, Y/N, I need you to tell me what you were using. We didn’t find any track marks…” he trails off and you realize the men probably had to change your clothes, meaning Bucky probably saw your underwear. The thought makes you groan internally.

“Oxy,” you say, not entirely lying. You did use oxy. And other things. His brow furrows.

“And?”

“How long?”

“72 hours before your overdose,” Bruce says, flipping into doctor mode. Your eyes widen. Overdose. Overdose. You realize he’s probably right. You also realize you don’t really care. That you wished it had worked. That you never went to Tony’s funeral for them to help you.

“Oxy, Fentanyl, and molly. I don’t’ know what else.” You feel Bucky bristle beside you, but you refuse to look at him, looking at the wall behind Bruce’s head.

“Any alcohol?”

“Yes.” He looks at you expectantly and you realize he wants to know how much. “A bottle of Everclear and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Some shots at the party. I’m not sure what.” Bruce nods.

“Did you take any of the pills with alcohol?” You nod. He nods as well, and you watch him think for a minute.

“How long have you been using, Y/N?” The question settles in the room, and you realize that Bucky probably wants to know as well.

“Uhm, 4 years.”

“You’re lucky you haven’t killed yourself before now, Y/N.” It’s Bucky this time and you want to yell and scream and tell him that he doesn’t get to have an opinion. But you don’t have the energy. Bruce nods, and stands up.

“How long was I out?” you ask Bruce, who pauses, looking back at you.

“12 days, Y/N.” 12 days. Your brain struggles to process his words. 12 days. “You should be through the worst of your withdrawal now, but we’re going to keep you hooked up to the monitors. Long term drug abuse can affect your heart.”

Anxiety begins to bubble up again, the feeling of being a caged animal resurfacing. You want to yank off all the cords and tubes and wires, but you don’t. You shift so you are laying on your back and close your eyes. You take a deep breath, blocking out all the sounds from the room. It’s not until you feel Bucky shake your arm that you realize someone was probably talking to you.

“Y/N?” You hear Bucky’s voice now.

“Hmm?” you ask, not opening your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” They’re the words you had been wishing to hear for years, but it does little to soothe the pain he had caused.

“I know,” is all you could get out. You hear Bucky sigh beside you, and you wonder if that’s not the answer he was looking for, but you don’t care. You weren’t ready to forgive him yet. Maybe not ever.

You must have fallen asleep, because when you open your eyes again, the room is quiet. You vaguely wonder if it’s a trick, but you can’t get yourself to care. All you care about is that mint tin, hopefully back in your bag which is, once again, sitting on top of your clothes. This time you are more careful, careful to stand up and tip toe across the room, not disrupting any of the wires and tubes and cords. You grab your bag and search through it, finding the tin you are looking for. You shake it and realize there is only 1 pill. You take it easily, and tip toe back to the bed. You wait. And wait. And wait. But relief never finds you. You hear someone clearing their throat and snap your head to see Bucky standing in the doorway of the room, leaning against the door jam.

“It won’t work, Y/N.”

“What do you mean it won’t work?” you snap.

“It won’t work. The pill. It won’t work anymore.”

“It’s just because I only took one. I just need more. Please, give me more, Bucky. I’ll do anything. It hurts.” You whimper the words out, getting increasingly pathetic as the words come out. Bucky, though, shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter how many you take, Y/N. You won’t feel high. It won’t calm down your brain, or anything else. Bruce gave you a shot of Vivitrol, 4 days ago.”

Vivitrol. Vivitrol.

“You had no right.” The words come out as a snarl, and you fight the urge to physically attack the man.

“You gave me no choice, Y/N. We’ve done this, remember? This is the only way.”

“It wasn’t your choice to make, Bucky!”

“It wasn’t your choice either, Y/N! You were laying there unconscious!”

“I was going to wake up! I was going to be okay with or without the Vivitrol!”

“YOU ALMOST DIED, Y/N! WHAT ABOUT THAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?” Bucky’s tone changes to match your own snarl.

“WHAT IF I WANTED TO?” you scream and Bucky stops, breathing heavily in the doorway. You groan and flop back down on the pillow, panting. Vivitrol. You had 26 more days until you’d need another dose. You resolve to get out of the Tower before then. To disappear before then.

“Y/N,” Bucky says quietly, and you realize he is standing over your bed. “Y/N, please. Let me help you.” His words are soft, and you want to believe them. You want to lean into him and let him help you like he did last time. But you can’t. You can’t get hurt that way again. Before you can answer, though, nausea spreads through your stomach and you throw up all over Bucky’s shoes.

“Y/N?” you hear to your right and turn to see Pepper standing in front of you. She looks small and frail, sadness filling all her features, but she has a sad smile, looking at you. You walk over to her and wrap her in a hug. You feel her cry softly into your shoulder, but you just hold her, a few tears of your own running down your face. You close your eyes and breathe in her smell, one you missed.

After a few minutes, she pulls away, wiping her eyes quickly, letting out a sad smile.

“I have to be strong for Morgan. It’s not been often that I’ve cried. I am sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Pepper. Crying is healthy.” You wish you could take your own advice, but you never have been great at showing your emotions. She gives you a sad smile. “What can I do?” you ask quietly, turning around to look around. You note that the table with refreshments is full, and you know it’s probably catered. Someone is probably making sure it’s full. You glance back over to Pepper, but your eyes glance over the one person in the world that you wish you would never see again.

Bucky looks good, more peaceful than you ever remember. His hair is still long but styled in a way that looks more flattering. He has a bit of facial hair, but nothing excessive. And his bright blue eyes are staring directly at you. You quickly look back over at Pepper, asking where you could use the bathroom. She motions toward the hallway behind them, and you thank your lucky stars that you don’t have to cross the room.

You hurry into the bathroom, your legs shaking and, as you close the door, you let out a shaky breath while you slide down the door. You put your head between your legs and laugh out a sob. You are a mess. You showed up to the memorial for the only father figure you ever knew high and drunk, and you can’t even keep your body from shaking long enough to talk with your friends. Or your former friends. Maybe not talking to someone for more than 5 years disqualifies you from being their friends.

You rifle through your bag, finding the mint tin you were looking for. You open it and white pills slide out. You take 2 more easily. After a few minutes, the room spins around you, and you close your eyes, your head on your knees. You’re not even sure how long you sit there, but you barely register knocking on the door behind you.

“Y/N?” a voice says on the other side of the door, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Their voice is far away, underwater. You grunt but you’re sure they don’t hear you. Time means nothing and it could have been a few seconds or hours before you feel your body being moved as the door moves you.

“Damn super soldier,” you mumble when you look up to see Steve hovering over you, his eyes full of concern. You’re sure you roll your eyes, but realize too late that it probably doesn’t look that way.

“What did you take?” he asks, not even questioning anymore if you were high.

“Nothing,” you slur out, trying to stand up but stumbling before you do, falling back on your butt with a humpf. You almost giggle but Steve just stares at you. “’m fine, Rogers.” You stand again and after faltering, almost losing your balance, you stand up, your arms spread to keep your balance. “See?” you say, gesturing down your body toward your legs when they finally decided to hold your small frame. “Fine.”

He stands across from you with wide eyes. You glare at him, and he stares back. You’re not sure how long it takes for him to move. Time is still meaningless, but you hear a yell from behind you, distant and you can’t make out who it was, but you also don’t really care. Steve’s super hearing hears it though, and his eyes flicker from yours to the door behind you. He nods, almost imperceptibly.

“They’re getting ready to start, Y/N. Are you coming, or not?” You almost flinch at the malice in his voice, and you realize that he’s mad. Not that you care. You could sink back to the floor at the base of the sink and stay there forever. You could just sink into the floor, and they could bury you next to Tony, the father who chose you. You can’t help the sob that wracks through your body, then, and your legs threaten to collapse again. Steve is beside you almost before you can blink, steadying you. You try to swat him away, but he doesn’t move. He holds you tightly against himself. You let out a scream you didn’t realize you were holding and Steve kisses the top of your head

“I got you,” he whispers against your hair. You aren’t sure how long it takes before you stop crying, screaming, hitting against his chest but when you feel like you’ve gotten it all out, you let out a sigh. Steve pulls away from you, his hands on your arms, examining your face.

“You look like hell, Y/N.” You laugh at his comment, reaching up to wipe the makeup you know had run from under your eye. You glance over to the mirror, then, and you’re sure that you are not even looking at yourself. Your long hair falls down your back in ringlets, but they are straw-like, unhealthy. Your face is red, but looks like the skin is stretched too thin. Your eyes, red and bloodshot, stare back to you, but there is no emotion left in them. You clear your throat as you hear footsteps coming up the hallway.

You pull away from Steve and adjust your dress, pulling your large sunglasses off the top of your head and putting them on just as Sam reaches the door frame.

“It’s time,” he says quietly and Steve nods, looking back at you. You nod to him before walking with shaking legs out of the room. Steve and Sam mumble something to each other behind you, but you don’t listen. You walk through the living area and out the front door, directly to Pepper, who pulls you into her side, Morgan looking up at you with wide eyes. You give her a sad smile. Steve and Sam walk up beside you and you can feel the concern radiating off them in waves but you ignore it. Today isn’t about you.

The memorial was beautiful and everything you could have imagined. The Avengers loved the man as much as you did, and you felt that. You were, at the end, grateful that you came, but, as everyone disperses and goes back inside, you whisper to Pepper that you have to go. She nods, whispering back that Steve could drive you. You shake your head, telling her that you were fine, that you just needed to get home. Her eyes were full of concern, but she pulled you into her. She hugged you in a way that was a goodbye and you felt that. You knew it too.

She pulled away and she and Morgan walk inside. You turn around to see a different super soldier, the one you had spent so long running from, leaning in the doorframe of the house. You looked at him, through your sunglasses. You inspected his face. The same piercing blue eyes that you had fallen in love with were more peaceful now than ever before. He looked happy, at peace and you love that for him.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, his voice exactly the way you remember it, deep and rumbly. You give him a sad smile, looking at him.

“Hi, Bucky.” Your words come out sadder than you want them to, but it was a sad day after all. “How have you been?”

“Uh, good. I spent some time in Wakanda, before I uh, you know, dusted.” You chuckle, but it’s not new information. Steve kept you updated in his voicemail messages. “Things have been a lot better.”

“I’m glad, Buck. You deserve to be happy.” You say it sincerely, with a nod.

“From the looks of it, though, the same can’t be said for you, Y/N.” It’s not a question, and Bucky takes a step toward you. All of a sudden, you feel like a caged animal, like if Bucky takes one step closer, you are going to growl and run. He must notice the shift in you, because he stops and puts his hands up. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I will stay here.” His words do nothing to calm you, though, and you feel anger burning up your throat.

“I am happy.” You aren’t even sure where the words came from, and you say them with a force that feels true. You almost believe them. Almost though. It’s obvious that Bucky doesn’t believe you though.

“Okay, Y/N. I’m glad you’re happy.” He is placating you, which only makes you angrier.

“I have to go,” you say moving down the steps and off the porch before you attacked him. You were sure that he’d overpower you easily and, even high, you weren’t dumb enough to pick a fight with a super soldier with a metal arm. He calls after you, but you start running, as best as you can in heels. He catches up easily, though, and just as you have your door unlocked and are opening it, his flesh hand slams it closed. The growl that had been threatening to come does and Bucky flinches, but doesn't move. You feel him behind you, and now more than ever you are caged.

“What do you want?” The words are filled with malice and venom.

“You’re not driving.” It’s a simple sentence, but it does nothing to calm you.

“Like hell I’m not!” Screaming comes back and you are about to lose it. You feel it.

“Y/N.” It’s Steve now. You are breathing, panting, still facing the car door, Bucky still behind you. Steve leans against the side of the car, looking at you with concern. “Y/N just come back inside.”

“NO!” The scream that erupts from your throat is enough to get Bucky to stumble backward and you turn around, stalking toward him as he catches his footing. His eyes are wide. “You don’t get to come back around me and start acting all high and mighty, Barnes. You,” you stab your finger into his hard chest, and you know it should hurt, but you feel nothing. “don’t get to have a single say in my life, my choices or anything else!” You twirl on your foot and look at Steve, whose eyes are wide. Your hands are at your sides, shaking and trembling.

“I’m leaving now,” you seethe and Steve nods. He stands up and pulls you into a hug and you shake into his chest. You will yourself to hug him back, breathing deeply and trying to calm yourself down. It does little though.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says softly into your hair and, before you even register it, you feel a small stab in your arm and warmth spreading through your veins before the darkness welcomes you once again. The last thing you remember is smiling up at Steve, finally feeling some relief.

You are awoken sometime later by your phone buzzing. You groan, fumbling around for it on your nightstand when you remember it was still in your purse, which was also, still, around your neck. You sit up, digging through it before finding it. It stops ringing just as you pull it out but seeing a missed call from Steve meant you wouldn’t have answered it anyways. You flop back onto your pillow, scrolling through your missed calls. Over the past few years, he had called you almost every month, but you never answered. All his messages were saved, and you’d replay them occasionally, especially when you were feeling particularly bad about yourself.

While you wait for his inevitable message, you plug your phone in on your nightstand, and stumble to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and chuckle. Your hair is like a lion’s mane and makeup is smeared down your face. The closer you inspect, though, the more you notice the smaller details. Your eyes are bloodshot. Your cheeks sunken. Your skin, always very vibrant, is dull and dry. It doesn’t take long in your self-pity to glance at the small orange pill bottle on the counter.

The first time you took pain meds was for a good reason. You can’t even remember the fight but fighting alongside the Avengers meant you were bound to get hurt once or twice. The Oxycontin took the edge off the pain. It was a welcomed relief from the crazy that was your life. The problem, though, was that you liked the feeling. It took the edge off the pain, yes, but also the edge off life. It didn’t take long until you were getting yourself injured on purpose, dodging a knife a little too slowly, or trying to take on more than you were capable of handling on your own. Then you met Bucky.

You shake your head at that thought and open the pill bottle. It calls to you with promises of peace and you take 2 in your hand and pop them in your mouth, not even needing water to get them down anymore. It only takes a few minutes before they start to work, spreading calm tingles through your body. You wash your face and try to put your hair into a bun, but remember that Steve had probably left you a message. With a huff, you walk back to your bed and sit on the edge. You unlock your phone and click on the New Voicemail notification. Steve’s voice fills the speaker.

“Hey Y/N, it’s… uh… Steve. Obviously. I am not even sure if this is your number anymore, but…” he pauses for a long time, and you swear you hear a sniffle. “Something has happened. Tony is… Tony is gone, Y/N. He’s gone and we’re doing a memorial at the lake house tomorrow. On Saturday. He would have wanted you there, Y/N. We all want you there.” He pauses again, then clears his throat. “Please. Anyways. Uh. Bye.” The message ends and your heart stalls in your chest. You stare ahead, not blinking. A tear rolls from your eyes.

Tony was more like a father to you than your own father was, but you hadn’t talked to him in a few years. Not since the blip anyways. He called, just like Steve, but you never answered. You knew he could track you. He could have showed up any time he wanted, but you also knew that he respected your privacy and knew you needed space.

Thoughts race around your head, dulled by the pain medication that suns through your blood. You feel the walls start to close in and, with shaking hands and unsteady legs, you make your way to the kitchen, to the unopened bottle of vodka that sits on the back of the counter. You open it easily and take a long swig. It burns going down the back of your throat, but you don’t even care. You continue drinking until the bottle feels heavy in your hand. Soon, you feel your head start to swim and you barely make it to the couch before your legs give out and everything goes black.

You wake up in the middle of the night, having slept for almost 18 hours. You feel like shit, of course, your head pounding and your skin crawling. You shuffle to the bathroom, popping 3 more pills before splashing your face with water. You don’t even bother looking in the mirror this time. You close your eyes, steadying yourself, then crawl into bed and wait for the darkness to come again.

You wake up to the sun and wish you didn’t. You roll over and see that it is the next day. There was a part of you that wishes you had just slept through it, but fate wasn’t so nice this time. You lay awake in bed, not even sure if you are going to the memorial. Your black dress hangs in the closet, all pressed and ready, but you stare at the ceiling and weigh the need for closure with having to see Bucky again.

Bucky came into your life in its darkest moments. He gravitated toward you because, like himself, you had your own fair share of demons. You never looked at him like a monster because you knew that everyone just had to do what kept them alive. He was the first person to notice your drug problem and held your hand through the detox and everything that came along with it. You comforted him through his nightmares and helped him through his trauma.

In the end, though, you were too screwed up and he simply wasn’t ready. Everyone knew it was mutual, but when you said you needed to leave, no one questioned why. It was too hard being there, in the compound. At first, you kept in touch with Tony and Steve. But everyone seemed to be moving on and you were honestly happy for them.

Then the blip happened. Life descended into chaos all around you and it was a chance meeting with an old friend that brought the pills back into your life. You ran into him while getting lunch and decided to catch up. He had told you that he was a doctor now, and suggested you go see him about an old back injury that had flared up. It wasn’t until he handed you the prescription for oxy that it even dawned on you that you could get more pills. You held onto that prescription for weeks, staring at it every now and again, before you filled it. And it took weeks before you took the first one. All at once, though, the world slipped away, and you got a good nights’ sleep for the first time in years, and it spiraled from there.

You kept telling yourself you could always stop. But that bottle turned into another, then another, and when your friend stopped prescribing them for you, you turned to your neighbor who you knew dealt. He knew a guy who could get you what you needed and more, but you never said yes to anything besides oxy. Until a few weeks ago when you went to a rave, and you weren’t even sure what you had taken. The days since then have been filled with booze and pills and whatever else you could get your hands on to lose reality.

Now, though, standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom trying to make your face look less sick and trying to make your dress lay right when you were sure it fit correctly, not hanging off your bones awkwardly, you realize that you may have a problem. You sigh.

“A problem for another day,” you say out loud to yourself while popping 3 pills in your mouth, swallowing them with a swig of vodka.

By the time you get to the lake house your bones are shaking. From nervousness or the pills or something else entirely, but you just know you’re shaking. You stare out the windshield toward the house and decide you can’t do it. You’re sure that you’re going to pass out or something. You are ready to put the car back in drive when you hear a knock on your window. You glance over, blonde poofy hair and Steve Roger’s face. You sigh. You put the car in park and turn it off. You take a deep breath before opening your door.

“Hi,” he says softly, looking at you. If he notices your eyes or sunken face, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he wraps you in a bone crushing hug, which you chuckle at.

“Hi Steve,” you mumble into his shirt, hoping not to wipe off any of your makeup, but you’re pretty sure you do anyways.

“You came.” It’s not a question, but as he pulls away from you, he touches your shoulders softly, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that you really were there.

“I came.” Your words come out a little shaky, but Steve just places his hand in your own. He gives it a squeeze but doesn’t move.

“You’re shaking.” You yank your hand back, cursing the shakes, but you smile, hopefully convincingly.

“Just nervous,” you say, but you don’t think he buys it. He doesn’t say anything, though, just nods.

“Shall we?” he asks, gesturing toward the lake house. You take a deep breath and nod softly. You walk beside him, your knees shaking and your legs threatening to give out. By the time you reach the doors, you are sure you’re going to pass out.

“You okay, Y/N?” Steve asks as you sit on the bottom step of the stairs up to the house, concern lacing his voice.

“Mmhmm, just need a minute,” you squeak out, trying to breathe deeply and get the darkness on the edges of your periphery to disappear. You almost curse under your breath when he squats in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are filled with concern, and you want to tell him to go inside, that you’ll catch up, that you’re fine, but you can’t get the words out. You feel like you’re floating, just above unconsciousness, and you can’t move. You can’t talk. You just sit and wait.

“Y/N?” Steve says, probably about ready to call Bruce to come help by the look in his eyes, but you nod weakly.

“I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy,” you lie, quietly. The darkness recedes from your vision, and you decide you’re okay to stand up. Steve scrambles to stand up and help but you know that you’ve spooked him. He knows something is up.