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[endsinafight]

Bucky'd been fidgety throughout the debriefing with Fury, even if he hadn't moved a muscle as he listened to the mission -- another HYDRA target, smaller, on a remote island in the Pacific. Not the usual setup, which made him uneasy from the get-go. But there was something else, something nagging at him, something in Fury's tone that told him there was more to this mission than he was willing to divulge. It wasn't a surprise. Fury might not be HYDRA, but in some ways his methods were so similar that it felt like being back there anyway. He definitely believed in the need to know principle, and obviously he didn't feel like they needed to know whatever it was he was holding back. His gaze darted to Steve, wondering if he'd picked up on it, too.

But if Steve had, his expression didn't betray his thoughts.

He pressed his lips together as they were dismissed, Fury addressing him as the others agents involved in the mission filtered out of the room. "Barnes. Hang back a minute."

And there it was, he thought, meeting Steve's eyes only briefly before lingering as Fury requested. One the door was shut again, the other man turned to study him.

"You have a different mission while they're disabling all of HYDRA's operating systems and containing the operatives."

Bucky studied him just as intently, his voice flat when he responded. "Who'm I eliminating?"

If Fury was surprised by his response, he gave nothing away. "Your target is Katya Belyakov."

"Who is she?" His voice was wary.

"You sure you wanna know the details, Barnes?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"If you're asking me to murder someone, yes," Bucky said, jaw tightening.

Fury regarded him for a long moment. "Essentially, she's the of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. Mind control abilities that she's utilized to force others to commit her dirty work. She's likely being accompanied by a former SHIELD operative who turned out to be moonlighting for HYDRA, Grant Ward. I'd prefer him to remain alive. He's got a lot to answer for."

Every muscle in Bucky's body tensed at the information about Belyakov, but also the name Grant Ward, his stomach turning in recognition.

"Ah. See you're familiar with him then."

"Unfortunately," Bucky responded stiffly, struggling to maintain his composure. "I'm assuming this isn't an optional mission." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"You knew when you signed the dotted line that there's no such thing here, Barnes. Is there a problem? Or do I need to go over the fine print of your contract to refresh your memory?"

Fuck you, he thought. "No, Sir. Am I free to go?"

"You're dismissed."

--

An hour later, he was suited up in his tac gear, breathing steady and even despite the wild pounding of his heart as he boarded the quinjet with a team he didn't know or trust, and the only person on the earth he truly did.

Comments

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Yeah, that’s right. You know you did. You’re a fucking hero, Buck. You made the call,” Steve said.

He tried to make his voice a soothing patter. When the red headed medic working on him got between him and Bucky—in order to get a better angle to bandage his hand, Steve bodily moved him out of the way.

“I’m so grateful. So fucking grateful, Bucky. You made a hard call and you saved my life and it’s not fair that you make yourself suffer for it.”

[endsinafight]

He didn't want to hear how grateful Steve was, even if he knew why he kept saying it. His skin itched with the need to do something, to move, to run, and there was nowhere to go. Even when he got off the quinjet, he might as well be nothing more than a rat trapped in a maze. He couldn't go anywhere, just like he hadn't been able to go anywhere for all the decades he'd been with HYDRA, and before then, when he'd been in the army. He was nothing more than a pawn in everyone else's game.

"Let him take care of your goddamned hand, Steve," he said tiredly. "Please."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“I ain’t gonna die from a measly gunshot wound on a limb,” Steve said. “The look on your face is much more important to me right now.”

Steve was in a lot of pain and all he wanted to do was wrap Bucky up in his arms and kiss him and call him sweetheart and try to get through to him that he was a good man who did a good thing. He was terrified—truly terrified, and it wasn’t about losing his hand.

“I can’t lose you again, Buck,” he said, soft.

[endsinafight]

"I'm not going anywhere." Even if he could actually move around freely without consequences being brought down on Steve and his friends, Bucky was pretty certain he didn't have it in him to leave Steve behind again willingly. Not for good. Not after everything that had happened.

The red headed man looked between them, hesitating. "If you let me finish bandaging your hand, I'll get out of the way so you two can talk," he said quietly so only Steve and Bucky could hear him. "I'm almost done."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve glared at the redhead, fierce. He didn’t like the interruption. But he softened fast and muttered an apology, holding out his hand without much grace. But he did it.

He was bandaged up, for now at least. When he got back, he had no doubt he’d be rushed into surgery. There was good odds he’d lose the hand entirely, but he’s trying not to think about it.

He sat in huffy silence until the man finished and left. The redhead, gaining back some of Steve’s goodwill, quietly cleared out a perimeter around the two of them, making excuses that Steve needed peace.

“Bucky,” Steve said, so softly. “Honey. Look at me. Look at my face.”

[endsinafight]

His gaze darted to the men and women that the redhead had ushered back far enough that they couldn't easily overhear Bucky and Steve's quiet conversation, and a little of the tightness in his chest dissipated at just having more space around him. No one crowding and observing, studying.

Bucky reluctantly did as Steve said, lifting his gaze to meet the other man's eyes. "I'm not going anywhere," he repeated, more firmly this time.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“I’m so happy to hear that,” Steve said. He was meeting Bucky’s eyes with almost too much intensity, everything he was feeling showing on his face.

“But you going deep in your own head in order to feel awful counts, too. I won’t have it, sweetheart. You don’t deserve to feel bad about anything you did today.”

[endsinafight]

It was almost too much, the open display of emotions in Steve's eyes, on his face. His breathing caught again and he had to hold it there because otherwise he was going to break, right then and there, and breaking down in front of strangers wasn't high on his list of things to do. He licked his lips, letting his eyes close for a moment.

"Yeah, well. You figure out how to keep me outta my screwed up head, you let me know," he muttered. "How's it feeling?"

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Hurts,” Steve said short, a little clipped. “But I’ll live.”

He licked his lips and stared at Bucky, studying him. He could see Bucky was barely holding it together and he didn’t want to be the reason he lost it.

“I’ll leave you alone now. I’m going to nap on your shoulder. But just you know, I’m the stubborn son of a bitch alive and I love you and I’m not giving you up.”

[endsinafight]

The reprieve was the best thing he could have asked for at the moment, and he nodded, glancing at him sideways and rising to his feet, moving to sit so that his right shoulder was pressed against Steve's rather than his left one. "Yeah. Yeah, I know you are. Always have been," he murmured. He wound his arm around Steve's shoulders carefully, his own back pressed firmly against the seat as he tugged him down to rest his head.

"I love you, too," he whispered. The words were rough, but honest, and he closed his eyes again, not to fall asleep but because he didn't want anyone to see him right then, when he was that close to crumbling.

He focused intently on reining in his emotions, on shutting down all the thoughts in his head. Once he wasn't talking, he found himself slipping easily into blissful numbness. He was going to need that stoicism because once they landed in DC, he was going to have to deal with Fury, and probably some of the other Avengers.

And it wasn't going to be a good time.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“ I would have been fine leaning on your left arm,” Steve grumbled, almost in audibly. But he subsided quickly, and settled in to press his head against Bucky’s chest. when he heard the words that were said, he felt soft warm feel his chest. Shifting his head ever so slightly, he pressed a soft kiss over Bucky's armor.

It was easier than he would’ve thought to fall asleep. He was exhausted, strained from pain and emotional stress. The trip passed him by while he was in unconsciousness.

It was only when they landed, the door opening and a flurry of doctors running in, but he woke up with a start. Everything happened very quickly, medical staff whisking him away surgery. it was all Steve could do to reach out with his good hand and grab Buckys shoulder.

“Don’t talk to anybody before I’m out of surgery, and “Steve said. “I’m your commanding officer. I take responsibility for the choices in this mission.“

While he was being taken off to surgery, Steve did his best to tell anyone that would listen that Furey wasn’t to debrief his XO before the procedure was finished.

[endsinafight]

Bucky sat stiff and silent in the waiting room at the hospital even though he'd taken a quick jaunt to the bathroom to wash his hands. His uniform was still stained heavily with blood, but short of dry cleaning, that wasn't going anywhere anytime soon so he didn't bother with it. The rest of the team occupied the chairs across the room and occasionally he'd feel someone's eyes on him, shifting his gaze to look at them until they looked away.

Fury hadn't arrived yet, but he doubted it would be long before the director showed up. He kept his ears tuned to the nurse's station, listening intently for any news before they officially delivered it.

The redhead from the team offered him a cup of coffee, but he shook his head in silent refusal, growing still when he caught sight of Sam Wilson heading directly to the nurse's station, inquiring about Steve and his condition.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam maintained his calm while talking to the nurses. They were just doing his job, no one to blame here. If he was looking for someone to blame—and he will admit, he was—he imagined it was the terrifying looking motherfucker glaring in the waiting room and stinking it up with blood. Steve’s blood, more than likely.

It wasn’t that Sam didn’t like Bucky. He was a nice enough guy, clearly been through a lot. It was just that he was downright scary and didn’t make much effort to hide it. He put all that scary right out there, right in front. Steve was convinced the guy had a marshmallow center, but Sam felt like he had enough evidence that the man was too used to violence.

He’d seen it in any number of his vets. They came back from the war and the only tools they had were rage and cold cruelty. He had empathy for it, sure he did, but his feeling bad didn’t stop anyone from getting hurt. And now Steve has one of Bucky’s high caliber sniper bullets in his hand. Which he might lose.

But Sam was cool enough to saunter over to Bucky, once he got the update.

“Hey, JBB,” he said, his eyes careful and considering. He ignored any glaring that went on. “You thought it was a good idea to send a sniper round through Steve’s hand? Surely you could’ve got a different read on the target.”

[endsinafight]

It had been awhile since he'd actually been around Sam Wilson. His feelings for the man were complicated, to say the least. He knew that he and Steve were close and had been for quite awhile, knew that Steve considered him his other best friend and trusted him entirely. He was glad, that Steve had someone he could turn to when Bucky hadn't been there. Mixed in with that was a somewhat unhealthy dose of jealousy, not only for his close friendship with Steve, but also because he was so goddamned normal that it was almost painful in comparison to his own chaotic life. He knew he owed Sam, the same way he owed Wanda and Nat and Clint and Scott, for having his back even if he also knew they'd done it for Steve and not him, really.

It was that debt that kept him from glaring at Sam too much, that kept his voice what could easily be considered normal when he responded.

"He was being mind-controlled. He had a gun to his own head. I couldn't see the target at all." He dropped his gaze to the floor.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Huh,” Sam said, considering that. It made a lot more sense than Bucky randomly deciding to debilitate Steve and it would sure as hell explain why Steve had apparently been preemptively defending him right up until he passed out. “Well, shit. Sounds like it was a good idea to put a sniper round through his hand, who would’ve thought.”

He looked carefully at Bucky. He was tense and hunched over, not looking at Sam at all. He didn’t look good, honestly. Makes sense. It would have to be hard to see someone you cared about nearly kill themselves, even if you ignored the whole mind-control thing. Sam highly doubted Bucky was capable of ignoring that.

“You wanna take a shower or something?” Sam said, more lightly than he felt. “I can take up watch for a little while.”

He sat down in the seat next to Bucky, carefully not touching him with any part of his own body. The dude didn’t like to be touched.

[endsinafight]

He glanced up at that, halfway surprised that Sam actually believed him. It always caught him off guard when anyone aside from Steve showed any amount of trust in him, after everything. There was a moment, brief and if Sam wasn't paying close enough attention he'd miss it, of utter vulnerability on his face before he schooled his expression into something more neutral. He simply nodded at the acknowledgement that he'd done what he had to do to prevent anything worse from happening. He knew it was the truth, but that didn't make the entire situation, the entire day horrible.

He felt horrible. Nauseated and yet starving, exhausted but wired, and the dichotomy never failed to confuse him.

Bucky tensed slightly when Sam sat down beside him, but he appreciated the fact that the other man didn't touch him. Especially today. Especially now.

"I'm not supposed to leave the premises until I've met with Fury." And even then he had doubts that he'd be allowed to leave without Steve to supervise him. It occurred to him that he might very well be leaving in cuffs and chains on the way to lockup somewhere deep underground where Steve would never find him again. He'd disobeyed a direct order from the director, after all. There was punishment coming, he was sure of that. He just wasn't sure how severe it would be.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam certainly was paying enough attention to notice that brief moment. He filed it away carefully, increasing his suspicions that Bucky wasn’t doing as well as he was putting foreword.

“I’m sure Fury wouldn’t mind if you run home, shower, maybe take a nap,” he said. “He’s a hardass, but there’s nothing particularly time sensitive about your debrief, is there?”

[endsinafight]

A chuckle escaped him, but it was completely devoid of humor. "I'm sure that would be true for most people." Bucky wasn't most people. Not by a long shot. He pressed his lips together, though, considering his options. He could probably slip into one of the rooms that wasn't in use and at least take a quick shower, get the blood off his skin. He didn't have clothes to change into, but chances were high he could find at least a clean shirt to change into.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What’s who you are are got to do with it?” he said. “It’s not like you’ve skipped out on briefings or anything before.”

He wasn’t aware of anything like that, at least. He didn’t like the idea of Barnes not being able to leave the building to do normal human things—it seemed unreasonable of Fury.

“You’ve had a shitty day. Take a shower, relax,” he said.

[endsinafight]

If only Sam knew. Who he was had everything to do with it. And no, he hadn't skipped out on briefings or meetings or missions. He'd been toeing the line like a good little soldier. But none of that was really Sam's concern. There was no need to get him involved when there was nothing he could do anyway.

"Yeah." He rose to his feet, body stiff and aching from the tension of the day. "All right. I'll be back."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam nodded, pleased with himself. He kicked back and crossed his ankles out in front of him, fishing out his phone.

“I’ll text you if there’s any news. Got your phone in that combat gear somewhere?”

[endsinafight]

He nodded, heading out of the waiting room and down the hall, in the opposite direction of the exits, picking up a random bouquet of flowers off a rolling tray that no one was watching, tipping his hat down farther and carrying the buds in front of his chest, hopefully blocking the blood from anyone's sight line as he walked.

Bucky peaked into a couple of rooms until he found one that was empty, ducking into it and setting the flowers down on the bathroom sink before he shut and locked the door. He undressed quickly and stepped under the shower head, turning the water on as hard as it would go and scrubbing his skin vigorously, washing his hair with the little bottle of shampoo in the caddie on the shower wall. He lucked into finding a shirt in the closet that someone had left behind, grimacing at the fact that it was too tight -- which was really more Steve's thing than his.

And it was a t-shirt so it didn't cover his left arm, which he hated. And sure, it wasn't the arm HYDRA had given him, but the one Shuri had, and it didn't have the white star on it, but it was still far too identifiable. It wasn't like there were many people walking around Brooklyn with a vibranium arm.

But it was neither here nor there. Right now all that truly mattered was Steve. He checked his phone, not seeing any messages from Sam, but realizing that Romanoff had texted him 18 times in the last few hours. He rubbed his hand over his face, telling her to contact Sam because he didn't want to talk to her or anyone else, really. He returned to the waiting room in under a half hour, replacing the flowers on the rolling cart on the way and dropping into the chair next to Sam once more.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam didn’t miss the fact that Bucky didn’t exactly go home.

“That shirt doesn’t fit you, dude,” he said, mildly judgmental. “Do you want me to run out and get you anything?”

Sam thought Bucky was probably being irrationally cautious in refusing to leave, but he had gotten the picture that it wasn’t going to be something Sam could talk him out of. He’d be an errand boy, if it helped out. The doctors said that Steve would definitely live, after all, and the serum could obviously do amazing things. And, he thought, keeping his face carefully straight and his eyes off Bucky’s gleaming metal arm, if he lost the hand, they could go back to Wakanda.

[endsinafight]

"No, but it's not covered in blood, either." He couldn't help but glance at the younger man sideways at the unexpected offer, then slowly shook his head. He wouldn't mind having clothes of his own to wear, but it wasn't really worth the trouble, either. "No." He paused, leaned back in the chair. "Thank you."

Bucky's gaze flickered around the room, taking in the sight of those who remained in the room, waiting on news about Steve's condition.

"No news then?" It was a struggle to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Steve’s a bad influence,” Sam said teasingly. “Not that you don’t have the muscles for a muscle shirt, damn that serum does good work.”

He stopped trying to lighten the mood when Bucky asked him about Steve, palpable nerves in his voice.

“No,” Sam said. “Only things they said are things you already know. His life is in no danger—well, the doctors hemmed and hawed about full anesthesia always being a little dangerous, but not with Steve. They don’t yet know how much functionality is going to be left in his hand.”

He swallowed, but met Bucky’s eyes steadily, non-judgmental.

“They said if he was normal, they’d not be optimistic at all. He’s not normal, though. It makes it hard to judge. Apparently it’s making the surgery a little tricky, too. He’s healing too fast—and wrong.”