nerves_of_ice | [oom] see right through my walls

He spends several minutes more talking with Steve, catching up on what he and Wilson and Natasha have been up to in pursuit of the group that's taken gunrunning to new heights with Chitauri tech.

At least where they are right now, the time zone's not an issue.

In return, he narrates the adventures of goat-keeping in as dry a tone as he can manage, and it's all worth it when Steve laughs.

The guilt grinds at him, threatening to take him apart down to his bones. He should be there. He should be there, he should be at Steve's side in the fight, but he can't. Not until his mind is whole again; not until he's his own person again in a way that can't be taken from him. He struggles against it anyway, struggles even harder to keep it from showing - he and Steve have talked about this, more than once. He suspects his friend can tell, but is kind enough not to mention it, not today.

It's just as well. With what Sharon had told him earlier, he's not sure he could take it, as her confession's added another share of guilt. At least he can do something about that. He's not going to be the one to break his best friend's heart.

(Although he couldn't help but notice that Steve hadn't-- no. He shuts his thoughts off from that path as fast as he can and turns his attention back to the conversation.)

"... Nat swears she's going to get me to like spycraft eventually," Steve is saying, and Bucky can't help but laugh. "Everyone's got to have a dream."

"Too true," Steve agrees, and shifts a little, stretching. "I'm glad you called. Keep it up, you hear me, Barnes?"

"I hear you, Rogers. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

The holographic image vanishes, and Bucky sits in silence for another minute or two, gathering himself, before he gets up and returns to the lab.

Sitting – even just by leaning against the table – proves to have been a bad idea. As soon as she's mostly off her feet, exhaustion sets in, the kind that this second cup of coffee can barely even dent. She shouldn't be drinking it anyway; she's just going to wind up jittery and tired, a bad combination.

Although...maybe that's okay, here. She's staying here, she reminds herself. For a little while, at least. And here, nobody is chasing her, nobody is trying to put her in jail, nobody is going to be coming after her with guns and handcuffs. She doesn't have to worry about standing in front of windows or telling people her name. She doesn't have to move on in the next couple of days because staying static means getting caught.

So what if she's not at the top of her game tonight?

She's holding the coffee that she's forgotten to sip from for the last few minutes, nodding without understanding as Shuri talks, when the door opens and Bucky comes back out. She pushes back up to standing and puts the mug down. "Good chat?"

"It always is," he says, simply. A faint frown creases his brow as he studies her.

"Hey, Shuri?" She cocks her head, looking at him, and he asks, "Think Sharon's room's ready yet? Otherwise you might have to invent a whole other kind of supercharged coffee pretty soon."

Shuri laughs. "I am sure it is," she replies, and gets to her feet. "I will keep your notebooks for now, if that is okay?"

Bucky nods. "As long as you need."

"Oh, come on."

She frowns back at him and crosses her arms, mulish. "It's still so early. I just got here."

"You forgot you weren't holding your cup and tried to take a sip anyway a few minutes ago," Shuri says, and Sharon makes a face at her.

"Tattletale."

"Little sister," Shuri points out, grinning. "It comes with the territory."

She's tired. But there's so much to catch up on still, so much to hear, even if she doesn't have much to say, and...

She's not sure she's ready to say goodnight. Even with the prospect of plenty of time ahead.

He waits patiently until Shuri stops teasing and Sharon's gaze drifts back to him, then meets her eyes.

"You can yell at me in the morning." His tone's dry, but the look in his eyes is serious. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, okay."

Her stomach does something a little funny when he tells her he's not going anywhere, but she pushes it aside for the moment. "That works. But why am I yelling at you? Just so I can prepare."

Edited 2021-03-01 23:50 (UTC)

He shrugs.

"I'm sure you'll tell me."

Shuri attempts to smother a giggle with her hand.

She narrows her eyes at him, but he's giving nothing away, so she puts her hands up, surrendering.

"Well, I'm sure I can think of something, if that's what you really want," she tells him, shaking her head.

It's never been a problem before, anyway.

"I have faith in you," he says, dryly, and this time Shuri doesn't even try to hide her laugh.

"Come on," she says, turning off her tablet and getting to her feet, bright-eyed and mischievous. "You can keep arguing on the way back to the Citadel. I won't interrupt."

"I thought those kids told you not to be mean," she teases, falling into step with Shuri and tossing a glance at him over her shoulder as they walk.

He trails behind the two of them at a comfortable distance, keeping pace easily.

"I'm not being mean. Am I?" A beat. "Shuri?"

Shuri waves a hand, still laughing. "Do not involve me in this! You are worse than –"

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Sharon admits.

Again, it doesn't matter who Shuri had meant to say. It's true regardless. Shuri makes an exasperated noise that's mostly a laugh at their expense and touches a Kimoyo bead as they come back up to the train platform.

Sharon, on the other hand, looks back at Bucky and mouths: mean!

He shakes his head at her, a half-smile curving one side of his mouth, and follows them into the train car.

Bucky leans against the wall, opposite the door, and waits for the return trip to start.

She fights the urge to stick her tongue out at him and instead just listens as Shuri points out various landmarks as the train speeds its way back to the Citadel. Night has settled over Wakanda like a dark cloth floating down over a table, but it's just as beautiful as it was during the day. When Sharon leans against a window and looks up, she doesn't think she's ever seen so many stars.

But she is tired, even if she doesn't want to admit it, so she doesn't ask too many questions, just lets Shuri's enthusiasm wash over her while she looks outside and then back across at Bucky, her gaze holding there on him.

It's all real. She's really here. And he's fine. Maybe a little banged up, but who isn't?

The only things she's worried about, she thinks as they disembark back in the Citadel, is waking up tomorrow morning and finding out this has all been a dream.

Rather than contine with them into the palace, he stops once they're outside the train car.

"I'll say good night here," he tells them, with a nod toward the ramp that leads up on a long, winding path around the building and toward the green, grassy fields behind. "See you tomorrow, if you want."

"Good night," Shuri tells him. "We will speak again soon."

Of course. No, it's not a surprise, it makes sense that he would leave here instead of coming all the way into the Citadel with her and then having to walk that whole way back again.

It's perfectly logical and whatever her gut thinks as it sinks a little, it doesn't actually get an opinion.

"Well, I already have it in my calendar to come yell at you tomorrow, so..." She lets it trail off, and studies him briefly with a tiny smile.

(She'll see him tomorrow. She doesn't need to try and fix every detail in her head. This isn't a dream, and she doesn't only get this one day.)

"Good night."

Edited 2021-03-02 00:57 (UTC)

"You know where to find me."

There's a single odd beat of silence, as he looks at her half a second too long, and then he shakes his head, as if pushing away whatever he was originally going to say.

"Sleep well, Sharon."

Bucky nods to Shuri and turns away, moving up the ramp and vanishing into the shadows of the night beyond.

She watches him go until he disappears into the dark, and even after that she stays where she is, watching, until Shuri clears her throat meaningfully and she takes a deep breath like she's coming awake.

"Okay. So where am I hanging my hat?"

She looks back a few times as Shuri takes her back into the Citadel, but not as many as she'd thought. And once they're inside, she has to pay attention to every corridor and turn so she can try not to get lost tomorrow.

Although it's probably a lost cause. This place is huge.

Eventually, Shuri stops in front of a door and beams a cheerful grin at Sharon. "Here we are! Nakia has seen to everything for you."

(This is indeed true - including, although Sharon doesn't know it, making sure that her guest suite is conveniently located on the other side of the Citadel from where Everett Ross has stayed in the past and potentially will stay in the future.)

"Rest well," Shuri continues. "We will see you tomorrow." She gives Sharon a wave that is somehow as cheerful as her smile, and heads back down the hallway.

The room is beautifully furnished, warm with wooden furniture and rich with traditional Wakandan hangings on the walls. A large window looks out into darkness, toward the fields and the forested lake in the distance, with a comfortable armchair and side table in front of it, and a reading lamp designed to look like a many-branched tree glowing with a soft golden light beside the chair. The closet stands slightly open, showing that Nakia had the foresight to have a few changes of clothes added for Sharon's benefit.

A glint of light from the side table draws the eye, as something moves very slightly with the shift of air in the room. Folded across the foot of the bed is a soft woolen throw in shades of green, and hanging from a display stand on the side table is a palm-sized piece of glass art with shards of gold and gunmetal gray.

Edited 2021-03-02 01:30 (UTC)

She finds a smile for Shuri and waves her off back down the hall, then softly closes the door behind her and locks it, then turns to look at the room, her back against the wood, her mouth pressing and pressing and pressing while her throat burns.

The glass art look beautiful hanging there, but it grows fuzzy in her vision as she blinks hard, trying to keep ahead of tears that are probably just a mix of exhaustion and reaction and the strain of the last six weeks, or because this room is beautiful but lonely, and not at all because he didn't want anything of her in his space.

When she finally moves away from the door and comes to the bed, she runs her fingers over the soft green wool of the throw, her mouth and throat working, eyelashes damp.

He's always so kind. It makes this so much worse. It would be so much easier if he'd just thrown it back in her face.

But at least no one is around to see when she wraps the throw around herself and cries into it, for herself, for her parents, for Aunt Peggy, for all the friends and family she won't get to see again.

And for this stupid heart of hers that doesn't seem to know when to quit, even when it's not wanted.

There's no one to see, and when she finally runs out, exhausted, there's no witnesses to that, either, except the calm Wakandan night, and whatever dreams creep into her head until morning.

He walks back to the little hut in silence through the cool, dark quiet, broken only by the hum of insects and the call of various night-birds whose names he doesn't know.

The goats are asleep when he arrives. One or two of them give sleepy bleats as he checks that they're safe in their pen. He hushes them and leaves them be, instead walking down to stand by the lakeshore. He stands there for some time, watching the water ripple in the moonlight.

Somehow, he doesn't know how, he'll have to figure out how to cope with Sharon's bright laughing presence without letting himself want. Wanting anything would be too much, he fears - and fears, at the same time, slipping back into the habits of all the long years before.

Weapons aren't allowed to want anything. Only the mission matters.

Whatever answers the lake depths might hold, it keeps to itself. Some uncounted time later, he goes back inside, and goes through his evening routine without thinking.

The purple-and-smoke-colored throw rests on the chest at the end of his bed. He lies down and stares at the ceiling in the darkness, and doesn't let himself think, and doesn't sleep, and doesn't sleep, and doesn't--

In the deep of night, he gives in. He pushes his pillow to the side and folds the throw under his head instead. If he tries hard enough, he can almost imagine that he can smell the scent of her hair.

She sleeps like shit.

It's not just –

It's everything. She hasn't had a really peaceful night since the last night before Aunt Peggy died and everything fell apart, and over the last few weeks she's rarely felt safe enough to sleep a full night, and no matter what she tells herself about how impossible it would be for someone to get her here, she still doesn't feel safe.

She spends the night starting awake in a panic and then staring at the ceiling or into the dark, too tired, too anxious, too sad. It aches in her bones, like the ribs that finally healed but which will probably always be a little weak, a little prone to aching in bad weather. And by the time morning comes, she feels like she's hardly slept at all.

Daylight brings a whole new enemy: the clock. It calmly ticks the morning away while she watches it from the comfortable armchair by the window and the sun rises higher and higher.

He's expecting her. She knows that. Even though – he'd still said he'd see her in the morning. Told her to come yell at him. But even after a shower and some fresh clothes, she can't stomach the thought of going down there to face him, feeling like a fool and unable to explain herself. Sitting right here and feeling sorry for herself all day long sounds like a much better plan.

Nakia, on the other hand, disagrees.

It's almost noon when the cheery knock comes and Nakia comes sweeping in, beautiful and warm as a summer sun, but her smile fades when she looks at her friend. "Well?" she says, gently, and Sharon spills it all.

Fifteen minutes later, when she's done, Nakia is silent for a long moment, and then stands decisively and strides to the door. She's very nearly through by the time Sharon's brain catches up to what's happening. "Nakia, where are you going?"

"To give that man a piece of my mind!" Nakia is fuming and protective, and the thought of her storming down to the lakeside and rounding on Bucky with all the righteous fury of a September hurricane is the first thing that makes Sharon laugh all morning.

"I should go," she says, rueful, and Nakia presses her hand. "You do not have to," she reminds Sharon. "You have some healing to do, as well."

Sharon takes a deep breath, and shakes her head, finding a smile that's almost, nearly close to her usual quirking one. "Come on," she says. "When have I ever given up on something just because it would be a good idea to?"

Nakia does, at least, insist on walking down with her, and Sharon's grateful for her bright, cheery company every step of the way – especially as they get close to the lake, and hear the children shouting, and Sharon's heart thuds with trepidation.

(At least in the sun, she thinks, she doesn't look quite as terrible as she had in the mirror this morning.)

He watches the sun rise while sitting cross-legged on the ground outside the hut, a piece of flatbread brushed with lentil paste serving as enough of a breakfast to provide needed fuel. As the goats began to stir, calling sleepily to each other, he gets to his feet and goes to feed them their daily ration of grain, checking them over and brushing dirt from their coats in the usual routine.

Sharon hasn't shown up by the time the sun lifts above the horizon, nor does she appear by the time it clears the trees. He keeps one eye on the Citadel, trying to ignore the fact that he's doing it, and reminds himself that she'd been exhausted. She's probably sleeping late.

It helps when the children show up after their morning classes are done, as by that time he's taken to pacing in circles back and forth between the hut and the lake, trying to talk himself out of going to the Citadel to see if everything's all right. If she's avoiding him, well, she likely has reason. Maybe seeing Steve last night caused her to have second thoughts.

He plays with the children, and then, when he realizes he's too distracted to do a good job of that, he gives in and watches while they play with each other. He still can't keep himself from looking at the Citadel every few minutes, which means he spots Sharon and Nakia coming as soon as they're visible over the edge of the hill.

As they get closer, worry sets in. Sharon looks -- well, she looks worse than he's ever seen her, including when she was covered in smudges of dirt and blood in the underground facility in Greece, and Nakia looks as coolly regal as a carved statue.

"Hi," he manages, as they reach him. He doesn't realize how poor a job he's doing of hiding his concern. "Good morning?"

"Sergeant Barnes." Nakia's tone could etch steel.

Edited 2021-03-02 02:59 (UTC)

When she sees his face, two things happen:

First, her stomach plummets and twists and then fills up again with butterflies like she's back in tenth grade, and second, he looks so concerned that she wants to go stick her head into the lake so she'd at least have a good excuse for looking like shit.

Damn. "Hey," she says, and smiles even as metaphorical frost swirls from Nakia's skirts. She turns to her friend. "Thanks for walking me down," she says, and her tone is light but she fixes Nakia with an intent look. Whatever her own feelings, he doesn't actually deserve to be on the receiving end of whatever Nakia had planned to say.

They have a silent battle of wills for a moment, but Nakia finally shakes her head and steps in to give her a hug. "Remember what you are worth," she says low, into Sharon's ear, and then steps back to nod, coolly, to Bucky before sweeping back off across the grass.

Sharon watches her go, then scrubs at her face and wanders up to him, looking around with a crooked half-smile. "Where's your fan club?"

"The kids? Er, both kinds - over there," he tells her. He points in the direction of the forest some distance away, where the children can be seen chasing the goats in and out of the smaller trees and around bushes in the shade. On second glance, it's possible the goats are chasing the children. Either way, they seem to be having fun.

He doesn't bother to look at them, though. All his attention is fixed on Sharon.

"Did something happen?"

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