Forced Mutism
Bucky doesn’t talk.
At first, Steve thinks it might be shyness and wariness bled together. But after time goes by, and Bucky seems comfortable in the tower, still nothing happens. He still hasn’t said a word.
Even at night, the only reason that Steve is aware that Bucky has nightmares is his tossing and turning. On a rare occasion, when Steve thinks the nightmares are particularly bad, Bucky will emit high pitched whimpers. He’ll stumble from his room into Steve’s, curling up in his arms.
Steve tries not to look forward to those nights, knowing how much they hurt Bucky.
Not to say that Bucky can’t communicate. There’s smiles and frowns. Head tilts for curiosity. Bucky generally allows his face to be expressive; once he got to know everyone.
When Clint and Bucky meet, Clint starts teaching him to sign, and slowly everyone learns. It becomes normal, and Steve almost doesn't notice the difference.
Almost.
The first time Bucky actually says anything, it’s six months after he arrived at the Tower.
As Steve walks into the kitchen, he hears a glass shatter and a soft curse. Bucky’s standing by the sink, barefooted and staring at the broken cup in front of him. He’s shaking, eyes wide as he stares at the glass.
“Buck?” Steve says gently. “Are you okay?”
Bucky whips his head up and takes a step back, hands up defensively. Steve winces as Bucky steps into the glass.
Sorry, he signs, left hand still raised, sorry sorry please sorry
“It’s alright Buck, it was an accident. I’m more worried about you stepping in the glass.” Steve takes a step forward, and Bucky presses himself against the sink. Steve stops.
“Bucky, do you know where you are right now?” Bucky shakes but doesn’t respond. He’s stopped signing, and watches Steve with fear in his eyes. Steve closes his eyes and exhales sharply, missing Bucky’s flinch. Steve lowers himself to the ground, out of the glass radius, sitting cross legged and looks up at Bucky. Hoping that if Bucky knows that he won’t get closer without permission, it will be alright. He begins to speak softly, reminding Bucky where he is, the date, what they had for breakfast.
When Bucky’s face begins to clear, and he blinks a couple times, Steve asks again,
“With me Buck?” Bucky nods his head slowly, and shudders.
Sorry, He signs again.
“There’s no need to be,” Steve says standing, telegraphing his movements. “Can you stay right there? I’m going to get the broom.” Bucky nods again. Steve offers him a quick smile, before cleaning up the glass.
“Are you okay Buck?” Steve asks again, once everything is cleaned up, and Bucky has been checked over. Luckily, Bucky didn’t get any in his feet. Bucky averts his gaze and nods. He fidgets a little, but Steve doesn’t press. Steve offers a hug, which is accepted.
And they move on.
The next time Steve hears Bucky, they’re sitting on the couch. Steve sketching, Bucky reading. Bucky laughs quietly at something, and Steve looks up briefly, smiling. Only Bucky’s no longer calm and content. He's sitting frozen in place, gripping his book. Steve gently nudges him and he flinches, eyes locking with Steves. Steve offers him a small smile, and Bucky releases a breath. He offers a shaky one back.
Bucky scoots closer to Steve, leaning against him. Steve stops drawing in favor of wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and kissing the top of his head.
It doesn’t happen often but when Bucky does make a sound, he goes still and tense, waiting for something.
He won’t talk about it.
Steve tries, after the third time it happens. But Bucky’s face goes blank, and there’s nothing Steve can do. Bucky pulls away from Steve and disappears for the rest of the day.
It happens again. And Steve does his best to reassure Bucky that he’s okay. He can’t help but wonder if there’s more to Bucky not talking than just not being used to it.
So he waits anxiously. Doesn’t ask every time, but lets Bucky know that he’s listening and wants to hear anything that Bucky might say.
It’s another two months before Bucky shows up at Steve’s room, arms tight around himself, shivering a little.
“Hey Buck, you ok?” Bucky doesn’t say anything, just flicks his gaze up and away again. “Come in, come here,” Steve says, opening his arms. Bucky darts in, settling against Steve where he sits on his bed, shaking. Steve wraps his arms around him holding him close, rocking them back and forth. As Bucky stops, his breathing evening out a little, Steve asks, “Nightmare?” Bucky shakes his head, and pulls back from Steve a little, hands where Steve can see them as he begins to sign.
I can’t talk.
Steve frowns.
“I know that, Buck, and I-” But Bucky cuts him off with a sharp shake of his head.
They would hurt me, especially in the beginning. And when I begged them to stop, they’d laugh. And they’d hurt me worse, more. And one time, after the chair, Buckky stops, shaking violently again. Steve carefully wraps an arm around him again. Bucky buries his nose in Steve’s neck. I couldn’t beg. Or scream. And they still hurt me. But one said ‘it finally learned to just take it’. Tears begin to fall from Bucky’s eyes.
They hurt me, he says, still shuddering against Steve. He gently rubs Bucky’s back. If I talked or made any kind of sound when they didn’t want me to. If I, He stops. Steve pulls him closer, and kisses the top of his head.
It was worse when I begged. If I said anything when they hurt me, when they didn’t want me to, it was always worse. So I learned to stop. I stopped, because it always hurts more.
“I’m so sorry Bucky. You didn’t deserve that.”
Bucky shrugs from his place on Steve's side. He doesn’t look up, but lets his hands fall into his lap.
“Thank you for telling me, you’re so brave. Thank you.” Bucky shivers, but doesn’t otherwise react. “I’m sorry that they took that away from you,” Steve murmurs. Bucky wraps his arms around Steve, moving so he’s in Steve’s lap instead. Steve holds him gently, but close, continuing to run his hand up and down his back.
“I’m never going to make you talk if you don’t want to, but you know you can, right?” No reaction. Bucky was still trembling in his arms. Steve wonders if he’s even aware that Steve’s talking to him. So he holds him, and lets him cry, rocking them gently.
It’s several long minutes before Bucky stops shaking. He rubs his fist against Steve’s back. Steve doesn’t think anything about it, until Bucky pulls away, and repeats the motion on his own chest.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Buck.”
The look Bucky gives him is both exasperated and exhausted.
“I’m glad you told me,” Steve repeats, “and if you never want to speak again, that’s fine.”
Bucky’s lips twitch in a sort of smile.
“But I also want you to know that if you ever do, I’m not ever going to hurt you or punish you for anything you might say. Alright?”
Bucky nods. Hesitates.
Someday. He signs and shrugs, looking down.
“That’s fine. I’m never going to push you. Whenever, and whatever. Ok?”
Bucky nods, and surges forward into Steve’s arms. Steve tries to arrange them so that they’re half lying down, and more comfortable.
They fall asleep like that, together. Bucky lying on Steve, as Steve holds him close.
The next morning, Steve wakes up with Bucky in his arms, legs tangled together. Neither of them had nightmares. He wants to do it again, every morning.
Bucky stirs and when he opens his eyes, he smiles.
“Good morning,” Steve says softly.
Bucky’s smile wavers a little, and he closes his eyes, taking a couple steadying breaths. Steve frowns, concerned. He’s about to pull away, in case it’s him causing the distress, when Bucky speaks.
“Morning,” he says, barely a whisper.
Steve smiles and hugs him closer.
“Good morning, Bucky.”