“Do you remember what they made you do?” Jessica asked one evening, as they were sitting in front of the couch, on the floor of Bucky and Sam’s apartment, and drunk. Sam had gone to bed a couple of minutes before, since his normal human metabolism couldn’t keep up with drinking with two enhanced people, and he was just too drunk and too tired. Bucky wasn’t drunk at all, Jess was very tipsy. She had more alcohol than Sam and Bucky together, and was still drinking.
It was a random question, not related to any topic they talked about that evening. They also never discussed the atrocious things they both went through, other than an occasional comment or a joke.
“Yeah.” he said, taking another sip from his beer bottle. “Most of it, at least. I think. It’s hazy sometimes.” he shrugged. It was still difficult to talk about it with anyone who wasn’t Sam. “You?”
“Every second.” she whispered. “Does it ever get better?” she added even quieter. Without super-hearing, Bucky doubted he’d have heard it.
“Dunno. I’ll let you know.” he said dryly.
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” Silence fell over the room again.
Truth was, Bucky had better and worse days, but the nightmares were still frequent, and the guilt constant. There were days he doubted it’d ever get better.
“You should try therapy.” he suggested, to which Jess snorted loudly. “What? I’m doing it and it’s helping. A little.”
“So I’m supposed to sit there and share my feelings with a stranger? No thank you.”
“Sure, drinking yourself numb is so much healthier.” Bucky murmured sarcastically.
“Fuck you, man.” she kicked him lightly. “I tried a shrink once.” she added solemnly after a moment. “To try to remember.”
“I thought you did remember.” Bucky frowned. He didn’t know all the details, but he did know that while he was completely brainwashed and had no idea who he was when he was the Soldier, Jessica was still there and totally aware of everything Kilgrave forced her to do.
“Yeah, that I do. I meant, to remember the accident. How they… made me, I guess.” she shrugged, as if it was nothing. He could see through her nonchalant mask by now, though. “How about you?”
“I remember everything.” he whispered. He knew what they did, how it felt, all of it. Still, the most painful memories were those of killing people with his own hands. In theory he knew it wasn’t his fault, he had no autonomy over his body or his mind… but it didn’t stop him from feeling like he was the only one to blame. He cleared his throat. “Why are you asking?” They never talked so much about these things, so Bucky wasn’t sure how to approach this, especially since he still wasn’t the best at socializing in general.
“I don’t know.” she took another sip from the whiskey bottle she was drinking out of by herself. “I guess it’s- don’t take it the wrong way, but it’s nice to know someone else went through something similar. Someone I can kinda relate to.” she was looking away when speaking. Then she laughed dryly. “Oh my God, I must be so drunk to say shit like this.”
“Probably.” Bucky chuckled. He wished he could get drunk, too. “I get it. We never talk about it, though. But we can.” he added quickly. He wasn’t big on talking, especially about those stuff, but if there was anyone who could really understand, it was Jessica.
“Only when we’re drunk.” she chuckled. “Or, when I’m drunk. You poor bastard.” she shook her head, taking another sip and finishing the bottle.
“It’s not that bad.” he shrugged. “At least I can’t get addicted to it.” he leveled her with a stare.
“Fuck off.” Jess stood up shakily, almost falling twice. “It’s late, I guess I gotta go.”
“You’re not going anywhere like this.” Bucky stood up as well, grabbing her arm to prevent her from toppling over. Well, it wasn’t that bad, but Bucky wasn’t about to let her wander around New York streets in the middle of the night, especially since she wasn’t in her neighborhood. He was trying to be a good friend. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”
“I’ll be fine. You know I can drink a lot and be fine.”
“Jessica. Lay down, I’ll get you a blanket.” he directed her towards the couch. They always had the same conversation, and she always ended up staying over and having breakfast with them.
Finally he managed to get her to lay down, covered her with a blanket, and cleaned up the empty bottles. Then he went to the bedroom to lay in bed with Sam, who was fast asleep, but as soon as Bucky settled in, Sam cuddled up to him, as he always did.
He was glad Jessica was slowly opening up, and he felt like he could trust her, too. Maybe one day they’d actually be able to talk openly about everything that happened to them… he knew they weren’t there yet, though. He certainly wasn’t. Maybe one day...