A/N: words: 1664. so school is annoying ahahaha sorry for the late update. also i dont normally do a bucky-centric chapter (bc hes just not as interesting to write for imo) but i like this chapter. anway, enjoy!

Bucky had his eyes glue to the message, trying to figure out what Sam meant by this. Did he want to see Bucky? Did Bucky even want to see Sam? Was he here asking for an apology? He didn't know if he would apologize. He thought Sam wanted the shield. It wasn't something for Sam to give away, it was a legacy, and Bucky thought Sam would take up the mantel without hesitation. Clearly, that was not the case.

Bucky didn't respond. He doesn't even know what he would say. It wouldn't go well. Another notification popped up on his phone.

Conditions of James Buchanan Barnes' pardon

Great. With a sigh, Buck clicked on the email, bracing himself for the worse. He didn't have the mental capacity to deal with this. Certainly not now, anyway.

Bucky skimmed the email, and he wasn't pleased. He had to go to therapy. Bucky has had 3 months, more or less, to adapt to new society. Sure, some would argue that the time spent with Sa- in Bucharest was "adapting", but he didn't get out much, and if he did, it wasn't for "adapting" or sightseeing. Adding on to the madness that is this century, he had just been snapped out of existence for 5 years, so there's that.

Maybe it'll be good for him. That's a big maybe.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was not. She wasn't even a therapist, technically. She's writing in a notebook, which, ok, normal for anyone else. Not him. Definitely not him. It didn't help that what she was writing was a log of his distress and discomfort, basically. "Do you have any attachments, any friends?" She asked, and Bucky rolled his eyes, with a slightly over exaggerated sigh. "Yes." He answered flatly, and watched as Raynor made a face.

"Who?"

Bucky wanted to say Sam, he knew he could say Sam. But there was something telling him not to. Because that ship has sailed.

But if it did sail, then why did Sam text him yesterday? Bucky's brain really didn't like him. The feeling was mutual. "Uh, well I did, I guess." Bucky muttered, becoming shy all of a sudden. Raynor raised an eyebrow, seemingly for the first time in this session; she became interested.

"Who?" She pressed again, firmer. Bucky's brain went into overdrive. He was starting to panic. He wanted to take it back. No, he didn't have any attachments, any friends, because the one time he did, he messed it up. He messed it up so bad, He felt himself hunch his shoulders, to make himself small. Suddenly the air felt thick, and Bucky wondered if the room was this small when he walked in.

"Well," Raynor's voice cut through his thoughts, almost making Bucky jump. "Our time is up, but I would like to know who this mystery person is. They seem important." God, Bucky hates this woman, and it's only been one day.

"Of course." he muttered under his breath, giving her a nod and tight-lipped smile that Bucky only used while he was being passive-aggressive. Which, by the way, Raynor's really passive-aggressive. He walked out of the building and sighs, eyes scanning the city around him. It wasn't the same place he knew, which was pretty obvious, but it didn't feel like home anymore. He didn't know if it ever did, once he came back. Well, it probably did, but he wasn't going to think about that now.

~ A week later ~

"So... who's the mystery person?" Raynor asked, an eyebrow raised in Bucky's direction. He was almost finished, he genuinely hoped she forgot, like she had for the past week. Clearly, she did not. Bucky stayed silent, looking as tense as he felt. He still didn't want to tell her, it was stupid that he even brought it up. "Listen, James," Bucky tensed up a bit, and he didn't know if she didn't notice or didn't care. "Nothing will get done here if you don't talk." The words sounded so much like Zemo's it sent a shiver down Bucky's spine. He felt the room closing in on him again and felt Raynor's scrutinizing stare on him.

Bucky breathed in deeply, prepping himself to answer. "He was a friend. I- We drifted apart." Bucky explained simply, his voice practically a whisper. He looked up at Raynor to catch her reaction, expecting at least a bit of sympathy, but he got nothing. She was cold as stone. "Ok, what happened?" she asked expectantly, and Bucky had felt like he already said too much. "Messed up."

"Who?"

God, if she says that word one more time, Bucky was gonna lose it. "Who what?" he asked through clenched teeth, his irritation seeping into his words. Raynor sighed, leaning her head back. "Who messed up." she over enunciated each word, popping the p on up and everything. This time it was Bucky who sighed, and he knew he wouldn't get out of this one easy. "I- I don't know."

"Do you think that's what's bothering you? Do you think this person thinks the same?" Raynor really wanted to push this. Frankly, Bucky didn't know. Knowing Sam, he probably blames them both, which is stupid, obviously. Sam shouldn't blame himself for something he didn't do.

But Bucky still wanted to blame Sam. That was the issue. "I'm- I'm not sure." he watched as Raynor scribbled something down in her notebook and a surge of discomfort ran through his body. "What are you writing?"

"What you're saying." she replied matter-of-factly, making Bucky roll his eyes and lean back, wanting nothing more than to leave this room. "Can I see your phone?" she asked, a bit pushy. Bucky sighed, and reached for his phone in his pocket, tossing it to Raynor.

"You're ignoring him. He's the only number you have on here besides me." It's true, Bucky didn't leave his apartment at all besides his outings to this hell, and groceries, so he didn't meet any friends while on his walks of brooding around the grocery store. "You need friends. Not the one you have some issues with, whoever he is, new friends."

Bucky narrowed his eyes on her, absolutely fed up with this woman. "Fine, thanks doc." he said snarkily, getting up from the couch he sat at every session. She tossed him back the phone, having Bucky catch it with one hand.

"Answer him."

Bucky thought, no, he knew that had Raynor yelled that just before he slipped out of the room. He should be. He should be. But he's not. Because he's petty, and being stupid. He might not be admitting it to himself yet, but he all he knew was that the minute he saw Sam again, he'd do something irrational, and he would regret it for a long, long time.

~~~~~~~~

As Bucky walked back to his apartment, he peered inside a small restaurant, Izzys, and figured he'd probably need a distraction. What could go wrong? He wasn't letting his overthinking mind get a hold of that thought for too long. With a sigh, Bucky walked into the restaurant, and looked around. It looked nice, small, something comforting about it all.

"There's this place called Izzys. Thoughts?" Sam asked from the couch, scrolling through his phone. Bucky hummed from the floor, his head leaned against Sam's hair, his short hair brushing against Sam's arm. "Sure."

"What do ya want?"

"Sam, we both know I'm indecisive, pick something you think I'll like." Bucky said matter-of-factly, a small smirk on his face. Sam sighed, shaking his head. "You're lucky I love you." Sam told him, making Bucky's smirk turn into a grin. "You're right, I am." Bucky agreed, moving to press a kiss to Sam's temple.

Later that night, the smell of sushi filled the apartment, and Sam always knew what Bucky would like. This became a thing, every Saturday, he was greeted by this smell, and a bad fish pun form Sam. Every damn time.

That was exactly what Bucky could smell when he walked through the doors. The wave of comfort was a memory, a yearn. Quickly, Bucky made it out of the restaurant and back to his apartment.

~~~~~~~

When he got back, a cold chill filled the room, and he guessed he left the window open, because there were pages everywhere. Bucky stumbled and fell onto the heap of blankets on the floor, his sleeping arrangements, and watched as a page flew through the air, landing at his feet.

Sam,

I don't believe in luck, I don't believe in a lot of things. But I do believe this. It wasn't just luck that I love you. Even though nothing in our life was guaranteed, I could never be without you. You are a rock, a reminder of why I fight, and why I don't. I am lucky that you love me, but I think no matter what, I always will.

Yours, J.B

Bucky felt like screaming. So he screamed. It was choked up, and choppy, and tearful. But he screamed, because he was wrong. He was so wrong. Sam isn't here, Sam doesn't love him anymore. He's alone, back to square one. He feels like he's back on the run, going from country to country, trying to get off of Sam's radar. Which is way too ironic that Bucky doesn't even want to think about it.

Everything hurt, his throat, his heart, his mind. He just wanted all of it to stop. When your heart gets broken, it doesn't just break your heart. It breaks your head, it breaks your soul, it breaks your body, it breaks you. Because the person that shattered your heart was the only one to pick the pieces make up. They were the only one who had broken pieces too, and that was okay. Because you were together. You were able to patch each others wounds.

And now, they were alone, their wounds open and raw. Luck wasn't real, and even if it was, Bucky had run out a long time ago. They both had.