Wanda led a slightly weary Bucky throughout the compound. She watched as he gazed around at everything, almost as if he were a lost puppy, and he sort of was. Bucky had never been to the compound before, not even with Marlena. He wasn't aware that there were so many people running around; he only thought Tony and the team occupied the enormous building, so he hadn't been anticipating being under the very watchful eyes of the compound employees.

The looks he received only made him feel worse in regards to his thoughts from earlier. There were some employees who gave him rather sympathetic looks, as well as very welcoming smiles, but he didn't feel welcome—he never would.

Bucky let out a sad sigh as Wanda continued pulling him through the compound corridors. He had just received his verdict from the jury not too long ago. Marlena had saved him—she had freed him—and while part of him was thankful to her because of it, a bigger part of him had wished she hadn't shown up to witness for him. If she hadn't, there was a possibility he would now be sitting in a lonely, high security prison cell like he felt he deserved. Instead, he was trekking through the compound with Wanda as a "free man," according to Steve, but Bucky didn't feel like a free man. He didn't think he ever would, at least not at the moment.

"So, Marlena's asleep and I'm not sure when she'll wake up," Wanda told Bucky as she pulled him into her bedroom. "But if you want to, you can stay in here until she wakes up?"

Bucky only nodded and looked around her room; it was nice and seemed particularly comfortable, but it was the last thing Bucky needed at the moment.

Wanda frowned as she looked at him and shoved her hands into her pants pocket. She was worried about Bucky, more specifically his state of mind, and she had been since she had taken the stand earlier that day. Her eyes were still a bit swollen from the amount of crying she had done as well. "Uh, I'm going to go get some food. Do you want anything? Are you going to be fine here by yourself until I get back?"

Bucky nodded again, electing not to give her a verbal response.

"Okay," Wanda said quietly. She looked at Bucky for a few seconds as she debated speaking again, but she thought against it and hurried out of the room.

Bucky let out a breath as he further gazed around Wanda's bedroom, taking in as much detail as he possibly could. The sight of it was enough to bring a small smile onto his face, though it was a particularly sad smile. Bucky knew what he was going to do, and he had known since he heard the jurors declare him "not guilty." He didn't want to feel the way he did anymore, and he didn't want the people around him to suffer because of him as they had been doing for years. They were better off without him; the world was better off without him; Bucky himself was better off without him.

After running a trembling hand through his hair, Bucky made his way out of Wanda's room. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets as he ventured down the hall, though he stopped when he came to a closed door not too far from Wanda's room. He knew it was Marlena's, and he reached his hand out for the door knob but quickly retracted it before letting out a sigh and continuing on through the corridor. He had said what he wanted to her at the courthouse and everything he said would remain true regardless of whether or not he existed in the world.

Bucky trekked slowly throughout the building as he continued the search for what he was looking for. He made his way past several compound workers before finally coming to a large door with the word WEAPONRY scrawled across it in a neat font. He stopped for a split second, let out a shaky breath, and continued on. He pushed the door open and made his way inside, closing the door behind him once he was situated further in the room.

The room was filled with a countless amount of weapons, but there was only one that seemed to catch Bucky's attention. A lonely Beretta M9 pistol sat on the display table in the middle of the room. He wasn't sure why the weapon had been separated from the rest of them, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he seemed to care about was the fact that his brain was telling him that this was the one for him—this was the one he needed. It was lonely just as he was, separated from the ones in which he wanted to belong.

Several tears fell from Bucky's eyes as he walked over to retrieve the weapon. He picked it up, feeling the cold of the metal against the warmth of his skin. He peered down at it, several more tears splashing onto the cold, black frame of the weapon. All he saw as he looked down at it was his ticket to freedom, his escape from the demons that had been haunting him and tormenting him for so many years. All he saw was his relief from the never ending pain of his prolonged life, his relief knowing that he was finally ridding the world of a dangerously undeserving burden.

A shaky breath escaped him as he took the gun off safety and raised it to his head. A very small part of him was telling him not to go through with it. A very small part of him was telling him to think of the consequences of his actions, but a much bigger and a much more determined part of him was fighting against it, and it was winning.

The voices inside Bucky's head continued to torment him as they battled against one another. The broken man saw no escape from it other than the one he would be provided with were he to pull the trigger. . .and so he did.

A click echoed throughout the quiet room, though it wasn't loud enough to catch the attention of anyone else outside the room. It caught Bucky's attention, however, and he pulled the weapon away from his head to examine it with tear-filled eyes. He pulled the magazine from the bottom of the weapon and found that there was no ammo in it at all, and this confused him. Most of the team's weapons were almost always loaded, but this one wasn't, and he couldn't help but feel a bit annoyed because of it.

"Are you looking for these?"

The strained, feminine voice caught Bucky's attention and he snapped his head over in the direction in which it had come from, shocked to find Wanda standing a mere feet away from him. Her eyes were red and filled with tears, and her face was flushed and tear-stained.

Before Bucky could even respond, Wanda threw her closed hand out, dropping the fifteen bullets to the floor below. Bucky watched as they bounced across the floor, each of them rolling in different directions. His eyes flashed back to hers and he opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by the brokenhearted girl.

"How could you?" she spoke through her tears.

"Wan—"

"You think killing yourself is an escape? You think killing yourself is going to take away the pain?" Wanda cut him off once more, her tears flowing faster and her cries becoming slightly louder. "It's not, okay? It's not an escape, Bucky, and it won't take away the pain. Yes, it might take away yours, but it will only inflict it on others. Why is it so hard for you to understand that? Why is it so hard for you to understand that there are people who love you? There are people who love you so much that they can hardly stand the mere thought of you being gone."

Bucky wiped his face as he listened to her words. "I just find that hard to believe anymore."

Wanda scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You're kidding me, right? Look at me, Bucky! I am in this state because of you—not because of what happened in the past and not because of the person you used to be, but because I cannot stand to see you in the state of pain that you are in. I can't stand knowing that the only solution you found for the pain is taking your own life, which really is not and never will be a solution."

"I just—there's so much," Bucky forced out through his tears. "I thought I could handle it but I can't, and I was afraid I'd never be able to. I didn't want anyone else I cared about to suffer because of me—because I was suffering. I thought things would be better if I wasn't around."

"We're all suffering, Bucky," Wanda said as she inched herself toward him, the tears continuing their journey down her face. "Me, Steve, Tony, Sam, Marlena, you. . .we are all suffering in some way, shape, or form. We are all broken to some horrific extent, but we have each other to help us get through the days. I promised you so long ago that I would help you, and I still hold true to that promise, but I can't if you aren't around."

Bucky couldn't respond verbally. Instead, he let out a gentle sob and before he could even think, Wanda was grabbing him and pulling him to her in a tight hug.

"I couldn't save Pietro, but I will do whatever it takes to help save you, Bucky," Wanda assured him.

Bucky simply responded by letting out another sob as he squeezed her tightly in his arms, holding onto her as if she were the only thing preventing him from falling off the deep end, and at the moment that proved to be true. Wanda knew she had a lot of work to do, but she didn't mind so long as she was able to see him happy the way she—and everyone else—knew he deserved to be.