Indecision
Steve paced the quite large, metal and glass room. For him, pacing was a coping strategy, that was usually quite effective. However, this time, it did nothing for him. This time, his anxiety ran too deep in his blood to shake it out simply by pacing. He turned on his heel and strode back across the room; the room that Bucky, his best friend but more than just his best friend, was in, lying in a cryogenic chamber, cold and catatonic.
It had only been a couple of hours, but Steve already missed him. It just wasn't fair. They had been separated for so long; Steve had thought he was dead for what felt like a lifetime, and finally when he was found, Bucky didn't remember him. In fact, he wasn't even Bucky anymore, he was the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier, the one who had greeted Steve with, who the hell is Bucky? Imagine that. The patriotic and heroic Captain America finding that his best friend had murdered hundreds of innocent people, and not only that, but he didn't even remember his own name, or Steve's. Steve didn't feel like being too patriotic or heroic after that. It had hurt too much. It had hurt even more when Bucky had remembered him, because Steve couldn't bear to see the pain and misery on his friend's face when he realised what he done. And now, instead of helping him get better, coaxing him into remembering that he truly was a good and noble person; that the Winter Soldier was not Bucky, they were being separated once again. Oh, how fate is cruel, Steve thought, bitterly.
He took another turn of the room, trying desperately to think of anything else but how badly he wanted to wake Bucky from his icy slumber. That morning, Steve had done anything and everything he could to distract himself. He had thumped and smashed leather sandbags until his knuckles were bleeding and the punching bags broke loose from their chains; the grainy sand scattered on the floor.
He had jogged - no, not jogged, sprinted on his treadmill, the treadmill Stark had custom built for him to withstand speeds of up to 70 mph, months ago. Things had been simpler back then. Him and Stark had still been friends. Stark had made it withstand 70 just as a precaution; he had explained that Steve would never be able to run that fast, that the highest speed he would ever be able to reach was between 55 - 60 mph. Stark was wrong. Steve had broken his treadmill that morning.
Steve had tried listening to the Marvin Gaye album that Sam had recommended, an album that Steve had since listened to about three hundred times. Even Marvin Gaye couldn't cheer him up that morning.
He had tried eating Thai food, another item on his list of everything he had missed while he had been under the ice. He didn't like it. He had tried watching Star Wars, also on his list (which was admittedly fantastic, despite Steve being too paranoid to really concentrate). He had tried everything he could possibly think of to distract himself, but nothing had worked. He couldn't stop thinking about James Buchanan Barnes.
It wasn't just that Steve missed Bucky. Steve was a man who had very strong moral beliefs, and there weren't many people who could change his mind about them. Steve believed deeply that what Bucky was doing was wrong. Nothing Buck had done as the Winter Soldier was his fault, and yet he was still taking the wrap for it. Steve knew that Bucky was a victim, as did everyone who had actually met the man - even T'Challa now knew that Bucky was not to blame for his father's murder.
The Winter Soldier was dangerous, that was true. Bucky's mind was so easily capable of being controlled, and his body was so powerful that Steve wasn't sure even he could bring him down (never mind that he cared about Bucky too much to hurt him anyway). When Bucky became the Winter Soldier, he was no more able to stop himself than Steve could stop himself from protecting him.
So that was the issue here. Bucky had nobly and honourably decided to put himself back on ice, just so that his mind wasn't vulnerable to being persuaded. It was a sacrifice that Steve respected, but still thought wasn't fair.
Steve abruptly halted his pacing, and slowly shuffled over to stand in front of the cryogenic tube his friend had cruelly been placed in again. He couldn't see much of his face, as the inside of the glass was covered with a crusty layer of ice, but what he could see was so peaceful. It wasn't hurting Bucky, that Steve knew for sure. So why did it feel so wrong?
Steve's finger inched towards the lever that would switch it all off; the lever that would return Bucky to his normal, living, breathing self. The self, that could talk with him, laugh with him. The self that Steve had been without for such a long time. Steve was just so tired. So tired of living without the person that made his world come alive.
No, he told himself. You cannot do this. It would be going directly against Bucky's wishes, and not only that, but it would put millions of innocent people, including your friends, lives in danger. And Bucky would never be able to forgive himself, never, if he hurt more people.
No. Steve was just going to have to survive on his own for a little while longer.
And Steve was true to his word. He did survive on his own for a little while longer. Precisely, four and a half minutes.