nerves_of_ice | [oom] secrets will out

Finally. "Thirteen."

He lets a little of the edge into his voice, but not too much. Not enough to push her away. "Decided to stop giving me the cold shoulder?"

Ice forms in the pit of his stomach and settles there. Cold shoulder? What the hell?

"Wrong guess." He keeps it neutral and even. "You can leave a message if you want."

"Barnes."

Interesting. She hasn't exactly been forthcoming about her why she's refusing work from him, but he'd bet good odds at least some of it has to do with the erstwhile Winter Soldier. "I have a job for her. Another one. Have her call me back, will you?"

He pauses, then, keeping his tone casual: "Any idea why she's been blowing me off lately? Thought we'd come to an agreement, before. After Monte Carlo."

"Sure. I'll let her know."

He knows Fury more from the mission brief and intelligence file than from working with him directly like Sharon, like Natasha, but that casual note to the man's voice rings clear as a bell all the same. He makes his own voice dry. "Depends. You do something to piss her off?"

"Sometimes it's hard to tell. Then again, sometimes the message is loud and clear."

With Thirteen? It's usually the latter. "Far as I can tell, we were both getting what we wanted. Whatever changed, it wasn't on my end."

He stares into space in the vague direction of the wall as if he could look through it and see Fury on the other side if he just tried hard enough. "She's been helping you out from here, hasn't she?"

He says it like it's certain, even though he's anything but.

"Sure. I just thought she wanted to get back into the field."

He keeps his tone light. "Could be I was mistaken. Anyway, have her call me. Could use her expertise on this one."

He ignores the twist in his gut and does his level best to match Fury's tone. "I'll pass it along. Anything else?"

Should be enough, he thinks. "That's it."

"Okay. I'll let her know," he repeats.

"Sergeant," he says, by way of farewell, and hangs up the call, then sets the phone down on his desk and considers it, a finger at his chin.

Interesting.

Bucky waits without moving until he's certain the call's disconnected. With deliberate care, he sets the phone down in the middle of the little table where it'll be immediately visible, and moves away from it.

He wants to run; wants to break something, wants to scream. None of those will do any good. Instead, calling on reserves of hard-won self control, Bucky sits on the ground at the back of the hut, beside the bed, and settles himself to try to meditate.

He needs to think back over every conversation he's had with Sharon about anything related to this in the last few weeks, starting with the day she got back. He needs to be absolutely sure of every single detail.

Sparring with Ayo isn't getting easier, exactly, but she's definitely getting better. Her conditioning is up, her reflexes are faster, and she'd managed to get in a few solid hits of her own, this time around. Thanks to Ayo, thanks to Bucky, she's almost back at the top of her game.

She's been enjoying, too, practicing archery. Almost every day, she's found time to take the light hunting bow she'd found and practice in Bucky's makeshift gym, Elrond's quiet, steady words in her ears. She's improving at that, too, though more slowly.

So she's pleased as she comes back to the hut by the lake, her hair tied up in a ponytail, already thinking about a swim and a shower as she opens the door. "Bucky? I'm back."

"Hi." He stays where he is, eyes closed and breathing deep. "Did you have a good session?"

"– Oh, sorry, baby. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Bucky meditating isn't unusual, exactly, but she's a little surprised to see him doing it in here. He's concentrating hard, it looks like; he doesn't even open his eyes to look at her. "I did, yeah. I'll go clean up while you're busy, okay?"

"You're not interrupting," he murmurs. She can't be, not when he's been waiting for her. "Go on. I'll see you when you're back."

"If you say so." She comes to grab a towel and some clean clothes, then bends down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "Good luck with whatever you're trying to tease out."

"Thanks." He holds himself still, and keeps his eyes closed. He's pretty sure that his expression will give things away if he looks up at her, and this conversation's likely to be uncomfortable enough without her having to have it while sweaty and exhausted.

"See you in a little bit."

"See you," she echoes, amused, and heads for the door, then around the hut to the shower. It's not exactly as luxurious as the bath up in her rooms in the Citadel, but it does the job. The water's hot and clean and she can wash her hair out, lather up her skin, which is all she's really looking for.

When she comes back inside, she puts her dirty clothes in the bag of laundry for later, her hair hanging damn over her shoulders. "Any luck?"

"You could call it that." He opens his eyes, trying to keep any hint of what he's thinking or feeling from showing in them. "Want some coffee?"

"I'm good." She comes to sit on the edge of the bed, looking down at him with a small frown.

"Is everything okay?"

He doesn't answer that directly, but nods to the table where her phone still lies waiting. "I didn't set out to go through your stuff or anything, but it wouldn't stop ringing, so I figured I better check it out."

She follows his glance to the table, then looks back at him. "That's okay. I don't care if you answer my phone."

"Okay." He makes himself stay where he is, and does his best to keep his body relaxed. "It was Fury. He has a job for you. Another one."

"He does, huh?"

She can't blame him for trying. It's not as though she'd been resistant to working with him before. "Did he say what it was?"

"No details. Might have figured it wasn't my business." He tips his head back a little, searching her face. "Sounds like it might be a field mission, though."

"Oh?"

Just what the hell had Fury said to him? "I'll call him back and see. Even if it is, it's probably something he's got covered."

"I doubt it." He keeps his tone as neutral as he can. "Since that's why he called."

He doesn't want her to keep dodging. He doesn't like that she thinks she has to lie to him - or if not lie, exactly, then to evade.

He doesn't like any of this, but he suspects he knows what he needs to do.

She looks back at him at that tone, neutral and calm and not like anyway he's sounded when they've talked about Fury before. "Don't worry, Bucky," she says, hoping to cut any concerns off at the pass. "I'll talk to him and figure it out. Thank you for letting me know."

"When you do, you should probably cut him some slack." He uncoils from the floor and comes to his feet in a single lithe motion, then turns his back on her as he goes over to start making coffee.

"He didn't realize it wasn't you that answered the phone."

He turns his back on her, and it feels like getting a door slammed in her face. "What do you mean?"

Slowly, slowly, cool dread uncoils in her stomach. "What did he say?"

He pours water from the pitcher into the kettle as he talks. "He wanted to know if you'd decided to stop giving him the cold shoulder."

Bucky switches the induction cooktop on and swings around again, leaning back against the little counter as he does. His gaze, dark and level, locks with hers and holds. "Me, I'd like to know why you started."

Sharon frowns at him, internally cursing Fury. How the hell had the man managed to lead SHIELD when he's this bad at keeping secrets? "Sounds like Fury was feeling a little dramatic today. I haven't been giving him any cold shoulder. You know I've been working with him."

His direct stare doesn't waver. "I know you have. From here."

"Yes. From here." It's been a long time, but the way he's looking at her, the way he's measuring his words... they could almost be back in that abandoned cottage by the river in France. The very first time they'd met face to face.

She doesn't get up. She doesn't want to do anything that might seem like she's arguing with him. "That's all he's really needed me for."

"Is that all you've wanted?" Point blank.

She looks back at him, steady. "It's all I'm willing to give him," she says, just as direct. "I know what I'm doing, Bucky. And he knows better than to ask me for field work right now."

She may believe she knows what she's doing, but he doubts she knows what it's doing to him. Now that he knows, that is; now that he's not letting himself turn a blind eye any longer.

"Why right now?" he asks, silently willing her to tell him the truth instead of twisting aside from it.

Why now? There can only really be one reason, can't there? Hadn't she said as much to Elrond? People make all kinds of sacrifices for the ones they love.

She gets up and comes over towards him, steps slow, and reaches for his hands when she's close enough. "You need me here more than he needs me there," she says, gentle. "That's good enough for me."

There it is.

He breathes in, slow, and exhales just as slow. He doesn't pull away when she takes his hands, but he doesn't reach back for her in turn.

Low, but clear --

"It's not good enough for me."

She stares at him, eyebrows drawing together.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you think I want you to limit yourself because I'm broken and messed up inside?"

Anger tries to rise. He smashes it flat, letting the bitter weariness of despair wash over him instead.

"Don't you see what that'll do to us?"

"Bucky, stop." His hands are limp in hers, but that doesn't stop her from gripping them more tightly. "It's okay. There will be other missions. We won't be here in Wakanda forever."

She shakes her head at him, stubborn. "I'm not limiting myself. I'm... choosing what's important."

"It's not okay, and there's more than one thing that's important here." He sighs out a breath and brings his hands up, drawing hers along with the movement until he can cup them between his.

"It might be different if you didn't want to go. But can you honestly say you don't?"

Edited 2023-08-25 02:32 (UTC)

"No." Maybe she's been dodging this talk; maybe she hasn't been completely honest with him. But she still doesn't lie to him, and she won't start now. She looks up into his face as he cups her hands, her eyes steady on his.

"But I want a lot of things. What I need is for you to be okay. And you aren't okay with me going. Not yet. Not really."

He shakes his head. "I'm going to worry when people I care about are in danger. I don't think that's ever going to change. But that doesn't mean that they - that you - have to live life in a cage. You're not meant for that. You never have been. You're really good at what you do, and what's more, it makes you happy. You should have that. I want you to have that."

He's glad that the words don't choke him, but figures it's because it's for her as much as for himself, if not more. Bucky tries for a smile, wry though it might be. He's not sure he manages it, but he gives it his best shot.

"You know, it might even help for you to go, and come back safe. The more that happens, the easier it'll get."

"But what will I come back to?"

He's trying to smile, but she can't even begin to find a matching one. There's no heat in her voice, only something wretched and sore. "What will you do when I'm gone, and you're worrying? I worry about you, too, you know."

"For one thing, I'll probably chop a lot of wood. Or do more work for Elder Ayemi. If I tell her what I'm struggling with, she'll probably fold it into the rest of the things I'm working on."

He's pretty sure that's not all of it, though. Bucky bows his head over her hands for a moment, then looks back up at her. "Tell you what. You be careful, and I will too. How's that for a deal?"

She looks down at their clasped hands, silent for a long moment, then meets his gaze. There's something sympathetic in her own, but she's firm when she shakes her head, slow.

"That's not good enough for me."

Surprise flickers in his eyes, shading into something wary.

"Then what would be?"

"Ever since things went wrong with the mission with Nakia, I've made sure you and I have worked together on anything even remotely dangerous," she points out. "You helped me plan out every inch of Monte Carlo, and it was a milk run. But I still came back to find you'd decided on a spontaneous trip into the woods and got attacked by a werewolf."

She shakes her head at him again, a stubborn set to her jaw. "We both know you won't just be chopping wood and working with Elder Ayemi. And we both know your idea of 'careful' for yourself is different than it is for me. So, no. It's not a good enough deal for me. Not yet."

He bites back the flood of sharp words that tries to spill out, with difficulty, as an unnatural stillness settles over him.

"I'll say it again. What would be?"

When you don't feel the need to go punch a mythological creature about me going on a mission, I'll feel better about going on a mission almost comes out of her mouth, but she presses her lips together, watching him.

"I don't know. It's not like we can plan out what might happen at the local. Anything could happen there. You need the flexibility to decide what the best move is when it does."

Edited 2023-08-25 03:20 (UTC)

"If that's the case, then you need to trust that I know what I'm doing." He keeps his voice steady with an effort of will. "You need to trust me."

She studies him, closely. "Can you promise me you'd be as careful as you'd want me to be? That you wouldn't do something you wouldn't want me doing?"

It feels almost like the question is a trap, but that doesn't make any sense. He shoves the wariness back and away. "If you're saying will I trust your judgment the way I'm asking you to trust mine? Sure. Yes. I can promise that."

He doesn't even see it. He never really has. After all, when was the last time he really worried about his own safety?

Her shoulders slump, a little, and she shakes her head. "That's not what I'm asking."

Nor is she precisely sure she does trust his judgement, which has gotten him injured multiple times because he still continues to see himself as expendable. And, unlike her, his promises to be careful don't seem to have made much of a dent in those instances. "Baby, you take risks you'd be furious at me for taking."

Edited 2023-08-25 03:54 (UTC)

"Sharon." He says it as gently as he can. "I'm harder to kill than you are. And I heal a lot faster, too."

"You think it doesn't matter," she counters. "Because you have the serum, because you're hard to kill. Hard to kill doesn't mean impossible, Bucky. It matters. It matters to me. You are not expendable."

She blinks back glossiness in her eyes, her jaw tight. "And since all those risks have been at the local, I bet you haven't even told Elder Ayemi or Shuri about them. But I also bet they'd have something to say about it, too, if they knew."

"You make it sound like I've got a death wish." He studies her carefully, trying to understand. "That's not - I just --"

He shakes his head, trying to find the right words.

"I just help out sometimes. Or I try to. When I can. When people need it. It's... important."

"I understand needing to help. You know I do."

She shakes her head right back at him. "But what was threatening Wei Ying so much that you opted to trek out into the woods? Death by boredom?"

“Kind of, yeah,” he says, absolutely serious.

The kettle behind him squalls and he lets go of her hands to twist around and shut it off before turning back to her. He hadn’t actually wanted coffee; he’d just needed something to do.

“It’s not like we ran out there unprepared, either. We packed supplies - even weapons, left word and trail markers, and were planning to explore an area on the mountain and were taking what should have been an easy shortcut to get there. You might have done the same damn thing, and I’d have understood it.”

Frustration leaks into his tone by the end.

"I wouldn't have, because you asked me not to do shit like that without telling you first," she says, a little sharply. "And because everything I've heard about the area outside the main bar – from you, even – is that it isn't safe. The paths change. Nobody knows what's in the woods or if it's even possible to get to the mountains."

She folds her arms and does her best to breathe. "Look, Bucky, the fact that you don't think I have to worry, or you don't get why I do... until you understand where I'm coming from, I'm not comfortable taking a field mission."

“I left word,” he starts, before he’s cut off at the knees and knocked speechless by her declaration. Bucky stares at her in shock and disbelief.

“You’re blackmailing me?”

She looks at him like he has two heads. "What? No. How is that blackmail? I'm just telling you what I'd need to feel comfortable doing it."

Sharon frowns at him. "Do you seriously think trying to understand my point of view is so hard it borders on impossible for you?"

“It sure as hell seems impossible for you,” he snaps. The air’s too close in here all of a sudden, thick and stifling.

She blinks back a sudden sting of surprised pain, her arms tightening. "Right."

Her throat works, before she loosens her arms and turns to grab her tote bag. "Then I'll try to do better."

He doesn’t try to stop her, instead holding himself so still that it feels like he’s balancing on the edge of a cliff, every muscle taut. He can’t get a full breath against the way his throat tightens and threatens to choke him, but it doesn’t matter.

“All I asked was that you not be reckless,” he squeezes out, low and flat. “I never tried to stop you from doing what you need to do, what you’re good at. Don’t you think I know I’m paranoid? But it’s not fair to you if I use that against you, if I - and now you pull this, like it’s my fault that you’re locking yourself up—-“

She shoulders her bag and turns back to him, her own body a long line of tension. "First of all, it's not your fault, it's my choice. I'm trying not to be reckless. With you, with me, with everything. I've been trying really damn hard. Secondly, I haven't tried to stop you from doing what you need to do, either."

Sharon watches him for a long moment, caught like an animal in flight, and shakes her head. "You should have seen your face when I told you the mission was done and I'd be here," she murmurs, her voice going softer, quiet. "You were so relieved."

"No? Then what do you call this?"

He starts to explain further, or to try, but she keeps going, her tone more gentle, even as her words slice through him and leave ice in their wake. Anger bleeds into self-loathing as he breathes, "So it is my fault."

Sharon reaches up to her head, which is starting to ache, fiercely. "Jesus, Bucky, it's not your fault."

Nothing she's trying to say seems to be making anything but the wrong impact, and she doesn't know if it's because she's saying it wrong or because she's wrong. It's all so twisted up she can hardly find where it all started. "I'm with you. That means I should consider your needs and mine when I make a call. That's what I've been trying to do."

She drops her hand and looks at him, steady. "And I'm not trying to stop you from doing anything. I'm pointing out you have different rules for yourself than you do for me. That's fine; I get it. I know I break easier than you do. I know stuff that would kill me is stuff you can just brush off. I just want you to acknowledge it. That it's different."

"When you make a call," he repeats, low and flat and desperately controlled. "When you make a call. Which I don't need to know about, even when I ask, until I back you into a fucking corner where you can't evade any more. Right. Got it."

He shakes his head. "It's not different. Strength and stuff like that may be, but the rest isn't. And I don't get why you say it is."

"Fine," she snaps, frustration boiling over. "Be my handler, then. You make the call, if it's only okay for it to be my choice when you agree with it. And, by the way, you have known about it. Fury hasn't actually needed me, he's wanted me. If something came up where it was actually life or death that he have me there, I'd have told you about it. Nothing he's had has been worth me leaving."

Be my handler. He physically recoils from the slap of those words and the idea behind it, coming up against the counter behind him. In the next instant cold anger sears through him.

"If that's how you insist on seeing it I guess there's nothing else I can say." He comes off the counter with shocking speed and stalks past her to the hut's door.

She doesn't try to stop him; how could she? "It seems to be how you see it," she says, instead, her hand so tight around the handle of her tote her knuckles have gone white. "I can't seem to do anything right."

He pauses by the door, every muscle in his body tight. "You could stop making assumptions about me. That'd be nice."

"All right, I'll bite."

Both of them are so tense it seems a foregone conclusion they'll snap in half. "What assumptions am I making about you?"

"That I want to control your choices. Your handler?" he spits. "Come on!"

Bucky whirls back around to face her. "That I don't need to know the real reason you're making some of them when it's because of me. That I'm too fucking fragile to deal with it. And whatever the hell you mean about things being different for me than for you. How's that for a start?"

"You're the only one here who seems to think you're too fragile to deal with it," she shoots back.

"When you asked me, I told you. And I don't understand how you don't see that it's different! Are you trying to tell me you'd be fine with me doing some of the things you've gotten up to at the local, as long as I leave a note? Okay. Why don't I go double check on that cave you brought down on the damn werewolf and make sure it did the job?"

"Name one single time I tried to keep you from doing something you thought you should do!" he challenges. "All I ever asked was that you be careful and not be reckless! You want to go looking for a werewolf? Fine, go! I trust you!"

Even as he shouts it, his gut twists inside him, and bile floods the back of his throat.

"Fine," she snaps.

If he weren't still in the doorway, she'd go slamming through it, just as reckless as he'd asked her not to be. "Then let me use the door, and I will."

He can feel all the blood drain from his face at her demand, but if he argues with her about it he'll be proving her point and making himself a liar.

Silently, moving with obvious reluctance, he steps to the side.

Edited 2023-08-25 17:24 (UTC)

The thing is, neither of them are all that good at backing down. All he'd need to do is admit he doesn't want her out there in the woods; all she'd need to do is admit she's been holding herself back with the full knowledge that he doesn't want that.

Instead, they're here staring at each other, at an impasse, until Sharon grabs the hunting bow she'd left near the table the day before and pushes past him, jaw set and stubborn, to open the door to the bar.

It takes an act of will not to move.

"Sharon." A muscle in his jaw works as he swallows hard against the tightness in his throat. "Just. Be careful. Please."

She looks up at him, her hand on the handle of the door, her eyes still flashing and her face still flushed with temper. "Don't worry, I won't do anything you wouldn't do."

He takes the lash of her words in silence and just looks at her, waiting.

Edited 2023-08-25 19:43 (UTC)

He says nothing else, and she shakes her head, then shoves the door open and heads into the light and warmth of the bar without any other hesitation.

His jaw sets in hard lines as he struggles with himself about whether or not to go after her.

The door has almost closed when he moves. Bucky shoves it back open and stalks through into the bar, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Maybe she should have slammed it.

Here's the thing: she doesn't actually have any intention of running off into the woods. He'd asked her not to be reckless, after all. What she does want to do is spend some time systematically pummeling one of the heavy bags in the garage gym, or trying to let practice with the hunting bow bleed off a little of her frustration.

But she can't do any of that with him following hard on her heels, and she also doesn't exactly want the whole-ass bar to be privy to their fight. Casting a glance at him, she breathes out hard through her nose and gives over the bow to the bar, then heads for the elevator to the garage without waiting to see if he'll follow.

She clearly doesn't want him around, but she's not storming off unprepared and alone - at least not outside, anyway. It'll have to be good enough.

Bucky watches as she heads for the elevator, then turns and goes to find the darkest corner table in the entire bar.

[oom] secrets will out

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