nerves_of_ice | [oom] see right through my walls

She sighs out a quiet breath, leaning onto her knees with her chin on her hand, looking out at the lake.

Something like this was always going to happen, when the Accords split the Avengers in two. Maybe it would have happened anyway: Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, neither of them any good at backing down, both convinced they're in the right.

His whole focus is the Avengers, so anything that happens to them is personal...he's dangerous, especially if he thinks he has something to lose.

Poor Rhodes. She doesn't really know him, but he seems like a good man; he'd served the country honorably and well. "I'm sorry. That must have been awful."

Made all the worse for the fact that it was friends fighting friends. She knows how much Barton and Rome care about each other. "I suppose it's something that nobody died." Pretty amazing when considering the power level of the various combatants.

She shakes her head at the mention of the Raft, holding onto the knowledge that Steve got Sam and Natasha out, at least. "But you made it to Siberia."

She knows that already. What she doesn't know is what happened when they got there.

"We did." The acid of self-loathing washes through his words.

She hasn't asked, at least not yet, and so he doesn't tell her - about the long flight, the way the silence had lain heavy between them at first. How Steve had been the first to break it. To reach out -- and how Bucky had, finally, reached back.

How they'd started talking in fits and starts. D.C. What happened after. Where Bucky had gone and what he'd done in the intervening time. What Steve had been up to, all the things that hadn't made the news. How the Avengers had gone over the years from a bunch of misfit individuals to a close-knit team. What was likely to happen to that team now.

How they'd seen the vehicle outside the facility when they set down in Siberia and realized Zemo had gotten there first. How they'd gone in together anyway, side by side, knowing the odds if Zemo'd managed to wake the five sleepers from their stasis... and never hesitating.

"It was a trap. And we walked right into it."

She can hear that bitterness in his voice, but can't comment on it. Not yet, anyway.

What she can do is lean back against the tree and deliberately, carefully, reach to place her hand at the curve of his neck and gently squeeze the tense muscles there. It's about the only support she can offer.

"He'd woken them up?"

He startles just a little at the touch, the barest shiver under the skin, but doesn't move as he glances at her.

"No. He killed them. We were wrong about what he wanted. The whole time, he was after something else."

Why does it sound like what he actually wanted was so much worse? What could be worse?

Her hand tightens briefly, and relaxes again. "What did he want?"

"You know, I still don't know how Stark got the intel."

Now he just sounds weary. Defeated.

"Whether he went digging around after the airport, or someone sent it to him, or what."

He looks away again, back out at the water.

"Wilson told Steve about it later. Stark showed up at the Raft; pulled some strings to get in, struck a deal with someone, I don't know. He showed Wilson a report with Zemo's identity, the one that confirmed it wasn't me in Vienna. Asked him where to find Steve. Said he wanted to help. So Wilson told him."

Bucky keeps his voice steady through an effort of will. He doesn't blame Wilson. The guy made the best call he could.

"Stark caught up with us in Siberia. Cracking jokes, putting up a front - but you could tell. He was sorry. He was there to help Steve. His friend. And Steve was glad to see him. We went in together, the three of us. Zemo was waiting."

("If it's any comfort, they died in their sleep. I'm grateful to them, though. They brought you here.")

"He'd set himself up in a missile silo, so we couldn't get to him right away. Wanted to talk. Wanted us to know that the whole thing was to bring us there. Them there. He said he'd lost everyone in Sokovia, and we - they - would too."

Edited 2021-03-03 14:56 (UTC)

As soon as he says Stark, she knows where this is going.

One mission in particular. December 16, 1991.

"The Avengers."

Her voice is slow with shock, horror. "He used you to destroy the Avengers. The mission report he wanted –"

No wonder Steve is on the run. No wonder he's off the grid.

He jerks away from her and surges to his feet in a single motion with the controlled grace of a martial artist, and is halfway across the clearing in the next second before he turns to look at her.

"Yes." Flat as the blade of a knife, with an edge that's just as deadly... and directed at himself.

"There was a roadside surveillance camera. In 1991. I took it out and brought in the footage as part of the mission. Zemo had set up a screen. He played it for them, while Stark watched. While they both watched."

A single beat of silence falls. Just one.

"He used me as a hammer to shatter them apart."

There's that bitter edge of self-loathing again, and she doesn't know how to help. It's not his fault – but he knows that already and it doesn't help.

Steve doesn't blame him, clearly. But that doesn't mean he doesn't blame himself.

She's profiled Tony Stark. She knows what his reaction must have been. "So Zemo lured you all there so he could break Steve and Tony apart, get revenge for what happened in Sokovia."

She doesn't want to ask. She doesn't want to know. She doesn't want to hear how it happened, but he's taking her through this already, despite what it's doing to him. She needs to push through. "Bucky...what happened to your arm?"

"Stark blasted it off. In the fight."

He doesn't mean the fight at the airport, she's sure. He means the fight between Iron Man, Captain America, and him.

Softly: "What happened?"

Not...she doesn't need the details of the fight. What happened, in the end. What happened to bring him here and send Steve underground. "And...Shuri said T'Challa found Zemo in Siberia. He was there, too?"

No. Much though he might have wished it to be, that wasn't enough information, he supposes. It couldn't be. She knows Steve and Stark both. It's not fair to leave her wondering.

The breath sighs out of him in a long, slow slide.

"He tried to kill me. Stark. After he saw. After he realized Steve already knew."

Bucky hadn't known that himself, until that moment. It wasn't until later that he'd found out how; that Zola had taunted him with it, in D.C.

"He wouldn't stop. We couldn't get him to stop. Steve told me to run, to get out, while he held him back. Stark didn't want Steve dead. Just me. So I tried. But it got worse, and ..."

He shakes his head.

"One of the energy blasts got my arm. Dropped me flat. Steve threw himself between us. He would have died for me. Protecting me."

Pure agony is in every word now, but it doesn't stop him.

"Stark thought I was out of the fight. I got hold of him by the ankle; got him off balance. Steve was able to get through his defenses. Cracked the armor; cracked the energy source in the suit with the edge of his shield. Brought him down. It was over."

If he closes his eyes, he knows, he'll see the concrete ceiling of the bunker above him. He can still hear Steve's rasping breaths, Stark's too, as they'd lain there in the wreckage -- of everything.

He stares into the sky instead.

"Steve got me to my feet. We left Stark there - knew he'd be able to call in help, knew he'd be okay. Knew we had to be gone before he did. Left the shield Howard made with him."

"T'Challa was waiting for us outside."

Well. That's what she gets for not being specific.

So she listens, still pale, still steady, as he details the horrifying fight between him and Tony and Steve, and her heart breaks a little more every sentence for each of them.

She thinks of Tony in Berlin, how he looked like he was barely holding himself together, the strain of trying to keep his family together. And she thinks of Steve, tries to imagine him without the shield Howard Stark made for him so long ago.

But most of all, she feels each of Bucky's statements like a hit to her own body. His arm, ripped off his body. Down on the ground. The pain of knowing Steve would die for him.

Her throat works, but she stays calm even as her fingers twist together between her knees. "He stopped Zemo from getting away?"

He nods, still staring into the clear Wakandan sky.

"Turns out he'd tailed Stark. No one knew about the technology they have here, not then. Stark never knew he was there. He followed him all the way into the facility. He heard everything Zemo had to say -- then slipped back outside, and waited for him."

His lips twist, settling into something that's a bare excuse for an awful, thin wry line of what might be meant as a smile.

"He didn't appreciate being used, either."

Bucky draws a careful breath, and wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, then finally looks back at Sharon.

"He told us what he'd heard; that he knew everything. He apologized to me."

The disbelief is clear in his voice.

"He told us about what they could do here in Wakanda. Offered me sanctuary and help. Promised that if I'd -- that if we'd trust him, he and his sister would make sure no one could ever use me like that again."

"And then Steve broke into the Raft and got Sam out," she says, softly. "That was in the papers."

She gets up from the makeshift seat and comes over to him, reaching to put a gentle hand on his arm. "I'm sorry for making you relive all that again," she says, looking up into his face with solemn eyes.

"But thank you for telling me. I had no idea."

It's...a lot to absorb.

"He got them all out. Except Natasha - she got away before they could take her in the first place. But he wouldn't leave any of them behind."

As she touches him, she'll find that every muscle in his body is tense, but he looks down at her and doesn't try to pull away.

"You deserved to know."

She nods but says nothing, and after a moment she takes her hand from his arm and just looks up at him, thoughtful.

"T'Challa takes that promise of his pretty seriously," she says, although she's sure he's already aware. "He wasn't very happy when a Task Force agent showed up on his doorstep looking for you. I guess he didn't know I was an ex-Task Force agent, but I'm honestly not sure it would have made a difference.

"I'm really glad you and Steve decided to trust him."

"He does. Steve warned him that if anyone found out I was here, they'd come after me," Bucky tells her.

"He said, 'Let them try.'"

Bucky sighs, a little, as the corner of his mouth twists into a wry expression.

"Honestly, at that point, I'd have gone anywhere, done anything, if it gave Steve a safe place to land. And I'm guessing Steve felt the same way about me. It wasn't until after we were here that I really began to believe T'Challa meant it. All of it."

"It seems like you two managed to catch up a little bit, at least. Berlin to Siberia, Siberia to Wakanda...those are some long flights."

And there was no mistaking their ease with each other on the call last night. Her smile is small but warm. "He must be so happy to finally have you back."

His expression settles into something more peaceful - not resigned, but accepting.

"I told him I wouldn't run again."

Bucky slants a look at Sharon. "I also told him about Franche-Comté. And Thessaloniki. I didn't want him to think you were in the habit of lying to him."

"Even though I kind of am?" she says, dry.

"I hope you didn't try to take the blame for that, at least."

His eyes narrow. He leaves her second observation unaddressed.

"You mean were."

She frowns at him, slightly.

"Okay. Yes. I was in the habit of lying to him."

"Okay."

He relaxes a little at that, even as he informs her,

"You were operating on a strict need-to-know basis with an extremely wary, high-risk intelligence contact that you couldn't chance vanishing off the map entirely."

Her expression flattens.

"...So you did try to take the blame."

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