James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes (
nerves_of_ice) wrote2022-07-12 12:49 pm
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[Virginia AU] to unravel a torment you must begin somewhere
I need to think, he'd told Sharon, and it's true all the way down to his bones. The problem is that he's having trouble doing it. After he spends the next half hour jumping at shadows, he considers going down into the tunnels for a while, but reluctantly decides against it. There's a five-kilometer trail on the grounds that he's run a couple of times. It'll do for a test, to see if the agents are going to have either a singular or a collective fit at his being out of the compound proper. Bucky goes straight from the garage's back exit to the nearest point, strips his jacket and leaves it on the ground, then settles into an easy lope.
By the third circuit, his mind's clear enough for him to start mulling over a few things, clear enough for him to look at the events of the last day or so in a new light. No wonder he'd had something like a - he doesn't even know how to describe it, the whirlwind of shock and fear and hurt and near-panic and desperation that he's been feeling. A spiral, maybe, but in the end the term doesn't matter, it's the reason, and when he really lets himself think about it, it doesn't take a genius or a scientist to be able to pinpoint it. All three of the people he's closest to in the world, the ones who know him best, had deceived him - or, to be fair, had let him deceive himself. And as a result, all three - Sharon more than the others, but Steve and Natasha as well - had taken harm or have been placed at still-great risk of harm, harm he's desperate to defend them from somehow. When he looks at it that way, it's really no wonder why he's reacting as he is. It's also obvious to him that he can't allow it to continue.
Bucky sets his jaw in tight, grim lines, and keeps running.
Three hours later, he makes his way back inside, absently mopping the sweat from his face and neck with the discarded jacket, and goes to find Hogan. "Windows," he tells him. Whether or not he'll leave them uncovered doesn't matter, not now. "Lots of windows. Somewhere high, not too near people. Furnished however you do as standard's fine for now. Okay?"
"I've got just the one," Hogan tells him. "I'll have it ready tomorrow. That soon enough?"
"Yes," Bucky assures him. "Thanks."
He stays with Steve again that night. Things are a little strained at first, until Bucky breaks the ice and apologizes for how he's been reacting. Steve doesn't want his apology, but his best friend listens while he tries to explain, and that's more than good enough.
Later that evening, he texts Natasha to suggest they catch up soon, and offers to bring cocoa, hoping the idea'll amuse her enough for her to realize he's not angry. Not any more. He texts Alyona a picture of Steve's bike, one of the ones he'd taken hanging upside-down, just to say hi, and texts Sharon a good-night wish.
He doesn't sleep much, due to the incessant nightmares, but at least he knows the reason for them. It helps.
The coffee's already made when Steve gets up, and conversation's a lot more relaxed. He's the first to ask about getting on the training schedule, and Steve's smile lights up the room.
By 8:57 AM, Bucky's waiting in the same conference room as the day before, a mug of black coffee at hand, and a blank notepad and pen on the table in front of him.
By the third circuit, his mind's clear enough for him to start mulling over a few things, clear enough for him to look at the events of the last day or so in a new light. No wonder he'd had something like a - he doesn't even know how to describe it, the whirlwind of shock and fear and hurt and near-panic and desperation that he's been feeling. A spiral, maybe, but in the end the term doesn't matter, it's the reason, and when he really lets himself think about it, it doesn't take a genius or a scientist to be able to pinpoint it. All three of the people he's closest to in the world, the ones who know him best, had deceived him - or, to be fair, had let him deceive himself. And as a result, all three - Sharon more than the others, but Steve and Natasha as well - had taken harm or have been placed at still-great risk of harm, harm he's desperate to defend them from somehow. When he looks at it that way, it's really no wonder why he's reacting as he is. It's also obvious to him that he can't allow it to continue.
Bucky sets his jaw in tight, grim lines, and keeps running.
Three hours later, he makes his way back inside, absently mopping the sweat from his face and neck with the discarded jacket, and goes to find Hogan. "Windows," he tells him. Whether or not he'll leave them uncovered doesn't matter, not now. "Lots of windows. Somewhere high, not too near people. Furnished however you do as standard's fine for now. Okay?"
"I've got just the one," Hogan tells him. "I'll have it ready tomorrow. That soon enough?"
"Yes," Bucky assures him. "Thanks."
He stays with Steve again that night. Things are a little strained at first, until Bucky breaks the ice and apologizes for how he's been reacting. Steve doesn't want his apology, but his best friend listens while he tries to explain, and that's more than good enough.
Later that evening, he texts Natasha to suggest they catch up soon, and offers to bring cocoa, hoping the idea'll amuse her enough for her to realize he's not angry. Not any more. He texts Alyona a picture of Steve's bike, one of the ones he'd taken hanging upside-down, just to say hi, and texts Sharon a good-night wish.
He doesn't sleep much, due to the incessant nightmares, but at least he knows the reason for them. It helps.
The coffee's already made when Steve gets up, and conversation's a lot more relaxed. He's the first to ask about getting on the training schedule, and Steve's smile lights up the room.
By 8:57 AM, Bucky's waiting in the same conference room as the day before, a mug of black coffee at hand, and a blank notepad and pen on the table in front of him.
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Once he's out of sight, he pulls out his phone and sends Sharon a quick text.
just so you know, i'm playing nice.
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"He's toying with us," she points out. "Trying to get us to play guessing games so he can get sanctimonious about how we're getting it wrong. You saw him try to twist what I said before."
"But I like guessing games," Riley tells her, happily. "At least he's giving us something to work with."
Ingrid shakes her head and gets up, taking her computer with her. "Have fun with it," she tells him. "Because he's going to shut us out until we give him an answer he likes."
Back in the hall, Bucky's phone buzzes with a text back from Sharon:
thank you
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Halfway there he changes his mind and goes to the garage instead. He takes the most public routes, and makes it blatantly obvious that he's claiming one of the bikes, which he rides slowly through the gate before accelerating toward town.
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"And give him a reason to think we're just here to put him on a leash?" she points out. "He'll be back. His best friend is here, and he's an Avenger now."
Riley nods and straightens. "I'll meet him when he gets back," he says. "Hey, Ingrid, want to go for a swim later? The pool is really nice."
She rolls her eyes at him and he grins back, then strolls out the apartment door, whistling.
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(Before he leaves town, he snaps a quick picture of the coffee menu and sends it to Sharon with no comment, figuring it'll be enough of a message on its own.)
By hour three, he's walking back in the front door.
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By the time Sergeant Barnes gets back, he's switched to a jump rope, and is happily bouncing up and down as the man comes to the front door of the compound. "Hey, Sergeant," Riley greets him, a little breathless, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. "Have a good trip?"
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Interesting.
"Sure," he says, keeping it as matter-of-fact as he can. "There's a good coffee place in town, in case you haven't found it yet."
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Riley does a few crossovers, then lets the rope fall slack before he wipes some sweat out of his eyes. "I'll have to check it out. Ingrid likes good coffee. Me, I'd be fine with just instant."
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He's not sure what to think about that, not yet, but files it away all the same.
"Taste doesn't matter to you?" he asks.
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He smiles and starts winding up the jump rope. "Anything else in town worth checking out?"
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The faintest flicker of humor is present in his face for an instant, there and gone.
"No pickle stores. So you're safe on that front."
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Bucky nods a cordial farewell to him and heads off in the direction of Hogan's office.
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"I trust you," Tony says, a little distractedly. "You called that butcher, right? About the meat."
"Yes," Happy sighs. "Like I told you yesterday. And the day before."
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He cuts himself off there as he spots the two of them. "-- uh, sorry. Didn't mean to intrude."
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His brain freezes for a brief moment, like a possum playing dead, before he holds up his hands. "Nope," Tony says. "Not interrupting. I was just leaving. Happy?"
"Right," Happy says, after too long of a beat. "He was. What can I do for you, Sergeant?"
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Maybe that's why his subconscious decides to let words pour out his mouth before he can stop himself. "Actually, if you've got a few seconds after this...?"
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But he really can't say no, can he? "Sure. Yeah. I've got time." Tony glances ta Happy, then back at Barnes. "Do your thing you came for. I'll wait just outside."
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Well, there are worse places to be.
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"So," he starts, and tips his head to the side, away from the door so they won't be overheard.
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"What's up?"
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