AN: (27.9.14) Posting this as part of Winterhawk Week, even though today isn't AU day (it's Smut day, but I don't so smut, so...). There's a warning for mentions of self-harm in the tags, if you missed that, and if mental illnesses are triggering in any way - well, there's a lot of that. Unspecified, 'cause I know that mental health problems are vast and varying and differ largely from individual to individual, so I tried to make it slightly relevant to comic-verse Bucky at least.

Sorry in advance for any major feels (kind of, anyway)!

Weep For Me, Aphrodite

Bucky glares at him from his bed where he's wedged himself into the corner of the walls, knees up, arms folded. Sat in the desk chair, Clint sighs. Today is a Bad day.

The café Clint found is quiet. That doesn't mean it's empty, but Bucky seems to be coping with the number of people present besides themselves. Still, when Clint brings his coffee over, he eyes it uncertainly and makes no move towards it.

"It's safe," Clint assures him. Bucky meets his eyes, and he takes a swallow of his own order as proof. "Mm, that's good, actually. I think you'll like it."

Gaze dropping back to his mug, Bucky's expression turns to a scowl. Clint tries to ignore it. Yesterday, whilst confirming plans, Bucky had seemed genuinely excited about going on a 'date' - or at least getting out into the world. He shouldn't be surprised, really; he knows better than anyone how his boyfriend's moods can change like a light being switched on or off, but the nurses insisted he'd been quite steady this week. They'd worked with him on preparing especially for today. Today was a Good day, but it doesn't seem to be good yet.

Pushing aside his concerns, Clint smiles and settles back in his chair. "So has anything interesting happened this week?" he asks casually. Small talk was important.

It's a pleasant surprise when Bucky nods. "I found something out about one of the other patients." He pauses. "You can't tell anyone I told you this."

"I promise I won't tell anyone, Bucky."

"... It's Natasha. She - she's not American, she's Russian, and her name's actually Natalia."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. How did you find out?"

"Natasha told me."

"Oh yeah? Wonder why she's pretending to be -"

"It's for protection. She's being hunted by the KGB. Had to change her name and accent so they wouldn't know she'd moved here."

"Right, of course. Well she's got me fooled - I would never have known."

"You can't tell anyone, Clint."

"I know. I won't." The staff know anyway. "Hey, did you get to watch any sports at all?"

"No."

"Aw. Bet that sucked."

"Wanda gets agitated by sports. Thinks her brother should be there."

"Oh." Clint takes a slow, deep pull from his coffee, scratching for a topic that won't come back to S.H.I.E.L.D. "So has Steve been in touch lately?"

Frowning, Bucky shakes his head. "Why?"

"Because his comic came out this month, and the first issue's been a huge success."

"What comic?"

The urge to groan is strong. This'll be the fifth time he's explained their friend's new venture. "You remember that Steve's a comic book artist, right?" A nod. "Well he's teamed up with a writer to start a new series all on their own. It's called -"

"The Avengers."

"Yeah." Clint grins at him. "See, you do know it! Guess those memory techniques work from time to time." Bucky's expression remains blank. "He's, uh - Steve, that is - he has a copy set aside for you, if you want it. I know we might need to run it by Coulson first, but I'm pretty sure he'll allow it." He stops there, not wanting to talk about that place anymore. Talking about the comic is easier, even if trying to get Bucky interested isn't. He manages it for five minutes before giving up though, so that's something. Then Clint notices the coffee.

"I was..." Licking his lips, Bucky brushes his fingertips over the mug handle. "I was waiting to see if anything happened to you first."

How is Clint supposed to respond to that? In the end, he shrugs and says "I feel fine," giving what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

It works - sort of; Bucky does take a sip of his coffee, but his face screws up and he spits it back out. When Clint asks him what was wrong with it, his answer is: "It's cold. I'm gonna get another one."

"What? Bucky, no, wait -" But he's out of his chair without a backwards glance, and Clint doesn't try to stop him for fear of causing a scene. He just rubs his head, waits for Bucky to come back with the drink, and tries not to sigh when Bucky frowns at it again. "What is it this time?"

"I think..." His eyes dart around the café, and he leans forward a little, beckoning Clint to do the same. "I think they put something in it."

"Well what did you ask for?"

"Black."

"Would you like me to try a bit to see if it's safe?"

Bucky hesitates, but he assents, and Clint takes the mug. It's almost to hot to drink at that point, and he schools his features at the burn lest Bucky take that as a bad sign. Setting the cup down, he pushes it back across the table. "Tastes fine. I don't feel any different either." Bucky makes no comment. "You gonna drink it then?"

He shifts in his seat. "Think I'll wait a bit." Clint quietly despairs.

"Clint, you can't leave me here."

"Bucky, I have to -"

"No you don't!"

"Yes, I do."

"They're trying to change who I am - they're trying to make me a monster!"

"No, Buck, they're trying to help you."

"They're messing with my memories, Clint."

"That's the -"

"I keep forgetting things, like stories you tell me or when Natasha's in session or what St- or what... Or what he... My friend -"

"Steve."

"Yes! Yes, Steve, they took - God, they took him away from me!"

"Bucky -"

"What if they take you away, Clint? What if I forget about you?"

"That won't happen, okay?"

"But -"

"No, listen, Bucky - I will always come back for you, okay? Whether you remember me or not, I will always come back. I promise."

"... You're leaving?"

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not allowed to stay."

"Or don't you want to?"

"What?"

"Don't you want to stay with me?"

"... I do, Bucky -"

"Then stay!"

"I can't. Look, Nurse Morse is here now. She's nice, she'll look after you while I'm gone."

"I don't want her, I want you! No - Clint, please, don't go, I'm begging you -"

"Bucky -"

"Don't leave me here on my own!"

"You're not -"

"I need you, please, just stay -"

"I have to go -"

"No!"

"Buck - Bucky, let go... Bucky... Hey, it's alright. 'S alright."

"I hate it here."

"I know. God, I know... I'm so sorry, Bucky. I'm so sorry."

On the day of Clint's next scheduled visit, he receives a phone call. It's Nurse Morse. She tells him Bucky's on a Zero day. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I wish I was."

"How bad is it?"

"He's mute, as usual, and unresponsive to visual stimuli. But we can get him to move with some physical guidance, and there's nothing suggesting he can't hear anything. It's hard to tell, though - we don't know if he's been reacting more to touch alone or a combination of touch and sound."

"Right..."

"Will you still be coming to visit?"

"Do you think it'll help?"

There's a very brief pause. "I don't think it'll hurt."

So two hours later, Clint walks into Bucky's room to find him sat in the armchair, staring blank-faced at nothing. True to what Nurse Morse said, he doesn't react to Clint's presence at all. Still. Normality, and all that.

"Hey, Buck." Clint walks over, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. He pulls over the desk chair, sitting perpendicular to Bucky, and gives him a smile. "Guess the beach is out of the question, huh?"

The one-sided conversation is hard, though he gives it his all in the hope that something gets through. He has no way of knowing, but still he talks and watches for a sign - a blink, a twitch, a change in his breathing, anything. But an hour in, Clint starts to struggle; he's dragged out the topics of their friends, sports, Rebecca, how Lucky's doing with Kate, archery, and even that he got himself fired again, but now he's dry. Maybe bringing the job - the ex-job up wasn't a good idea. Deciding talking is a bust, he tries touch, and tentatively traces the scars on the inside of Bucky's left arm.

He apologises, internally and outwardly, as he does so. Bucky absolutely hates any mention of his scars, never mind people looking at or touching them; Clint feels cruel, but he's desperate to know that Bucky is capable of functioning today, that he knows Clint is there. If that means bringing up painful memories... He's getting nothing. Not a peep from Bucky - and that, that is a punch to the gut. Clint hates those memories too, but is he suffering through them alone? Or worse, is Bucky suffering through them whilst unable to express his distress?

Clint reaches the crook of Bucky's elbow before he has to stop. His face finds a shoulder to cry into, but it's Nurse Morse who comforts him much later.

Sam, Steve and Thor convince him to go out with them one evening. "Just to the diner," Sam promises, "and we're paying."

"Sam -"

"Ah ah ah - not a word against, Barton. We will hide your wallet."

Part of him is glad they're refusing to let him pay, even if his pride takes a denting. Staying mad at the combination of Steve, Sam and Thor is hard, though - the three of them are generosity incarnate when they want to be - so he thanks them and says no more. They talk about life for a while: Sam talks about a new girl down at the VA, Carol, and how popular she is with everyone even though she's only just started out (he also thinks she has an eye for him, but Sam's been wrong about these things before). Steve's busier than a worker ant with his new comic, but the response has floored both him and his writer, Jess, not to mention the company bigwigs. A second run, or at least an extended one, is looking likely. Thor brings up his plan to propose to Jane - which, they all agree, is about fucking time - but he's not sure Loki will come to the wedding, or if he'll behave himself if he does accept the invitation (if, of course, Jane says yes, but the idea of Jane saying no is crazier than the idea of Hank disliking insects). Regardless, they all congratulate him, raise a premature but optimistic toast, and then the attention falls on Clint.

It's Steve who asks. "How's Bucky doing?"

Clint drinks from his bottle, runs a hand through his hair. "Not great," he admits, "but he doesn't seem to be worse, either, so... there's that."

"I spoke to him recently. He sounded quieter than usual."

"Yeah, he had a Zero day not so long ago."

"Shit, man," Sam says sympathetically.

"Is he still on the same treatment?" Thor asks, and Clint nods.

"They're still working on CBT with him. It... It is helping a bit, I think, but not as much as they hoped. God help me if they try to get him on drug therapy, though."

Frowning, Steve says, "Will they? Put him on drugs against his will?"

"They shouldn't." Sam shakes his head. "Not if he can make his own decisions."

Clint lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, well that's the big question, sometimes," he mutters, and takes another drag of his beer.

They sit in silence for a moment, until Thor asks "Are you well, Clint?" in that gentle tone of his that still surprises them sometimes, because Thor is notoriously loud.

And Clint doesn't know what to say. Instinct is to claim that he's fine, but his friends can see through his bullshit like no-one else. He ends up just sitting there, staring into his bottle (his own little Zero moment), and that says more than enough.

The day's over, and thankfully Bucky isn't making a fuss about having to return to the clinic. Still, when Clint bids him farewell, saying "I love you," at the end, he just gets an emotionless look in response before Bucky turns and walks down the corridor. It happens. Comes with the Bad days, in fact. But it hurts every time.

Back at home, Clint comes to the blunt realisation that he hasn't had sex since Bucky was admitted all those months ago. Before he can do anything about it that's where his memories take him: sex with Bucky, in the morning, in the evening, on the couch, on their bed, in the shower, against the front door, quickly, slowly, playfully, sensually - and just like that, he's aching for it again. Bucky has no interest in sex these days - either that, or he's too intense, and Clint feels uncomfortable, slightly panicked by his spontaneous need. He'd give anything, though, to have one more night like they used to - and, God, this is hard (fuck the pun. Screw that one too. Dammit). Never mind sex, Clint just wants some damn physical comfort. He wants his dog back. He wants his boyfriend back.

There are very dark circles under Bucky's eyes. "Have you been sleeping?"

He shrugs, then shakes his head. "Can't."

"Why not?"

"Natasha says she saw the KGB the other day. She's worried she's in danger - that I'm in danger too, 'cause they might know we talk." His words are slurred, eyes half-closed.

Clint frowns. Then he has an idea. "Would you sleep if I was here?"

Now Bucky frowns, blearily. "What do you mean?"

"I could... keep watch while you sleep. Make sure no-one tries to hurt you." He looks hesitant. "Come on, Buck. You know my eyesight's the best."

He shakes his head. "This is the KGB, Clint. They're tricky... They look like ordinary people."

"Then I'll be extra vigilant." He still looks unsure. "Please, Bucky. You look exhausted. You need to sleep on your own before they insist you take a pill."

Eyes widening, he shakes his head firmly. "No drugs. I don't want drugs -"

"Then let me keep watch while you sleep."

Incredibly, Clint wins; Bucky lies down on his bed, Clint next to him, and soon enough he has his head on Clint's chest, breathing deeply, eyes shut. Clint threads his fingers into his hair, cradling Bucky's head in his hand. It feels fine. It looks fine, too. So why, he wonders, with a pang in his heart, is it not?

"Will you take him to the wedding?"

Clint looks up from where he's rubbing Lucky into the floor. "Who?"

"Bucky," Kate says. The 'duh' is clear in her tone.

"Oh." Lucky licks his fingers, and Clint watches him fondly. "Dunno. Haven't thought about it."

"Sure you have."

She's right. As always. How is she only a teenager? "I haven't asked him, then."

"So you want to?"

"Of course I do!" He stands, and Lucky follows suit, tail wagging as he gazes up adoringly. "How do you even know about it?"

"Tommy told me."

"How did Tommy - no, I don't wanna know."

Kate rolls her eyes. "He heard it from one of Thor's friends. The big guy, what's his name?"

"Vol-something." Tommy knows Thor's friends... That isn't mildly worrying at all. Lucky whines, pushing himself against Clint's knees, and Clint chuckles, leaning down to give him another belly rub.

Smiling at them, Kate says, "He misses you."

"I know," he murmurs. "I miss him too."

"As much as I love having him here, he's your dog, Clint. You can take him back anytime you want, you know."

"Yeah, but... I can't, Kate. And not because of Bucky, but because I -"

When he doesn't continue, she narrows her eyes. "What?" He mumbles, and she folds her arms. "Clint Barton, if this is one of your pathetic excuses about not being -"

"I lost my job."

"... Oh."

Hand on Lucky's flank, Clint dares to look her in the eye. Surprisingly, she doesn't appear mad - just... concerned. He sighs. "I'm looking for another one."

"Would you like some help?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nods. "Yeah. Please."

Rebecca's all smiles when she meets him at the airport. His stomach wobbles a little at the resemblance she bears to Bucky when he smiles, but otherwise Clint finds himself grinning back and even hugging her. Maybe because he hasn't properly hugged anyone in a while, but it feels nice. Secure. Loving, even, and he stops himself there because this is Becca, not Bucky, and she's here to see her brother.

Once they've dropped her things back at Clint's they drive to the clinic, Clint filling her in on the way. He'd phoned earlier to see how Bucky was this morning, and Doctor Banner had said he was actually having a Good day, by the looks of things. So Clint's cautiously optimistic.

Turns out Bucky's delighted to see his little sister. The moment he lays eyes on her, she beams and says "Hi Jimmy," and his face lights up like it hasn't in... too long. They plan to go to the beach, and he seems so much more relaxed than he has been lately. He talks, he smiles, doesn't quite laugh, and remembers things - but he doesn't do much touching, and he's tense in public, despite apparent efforts to hide the fact. He's sad when they take him back and have to leave again, almost nervous, Clint thinks, but he says he understands and asks her to promise she'll be back soon. They embrace, at which point Clint looks away, but he still hears it when Bucky mumbles "Love you, Becks." He just gets a "Bye."

That night, after dinner, Becca surprises him by suddenly saying: "I feel rotten."

"What?"

Sighing softly, she gives him an apologetic smile. "I feel like I'm leaving you to deal with Bucky all on your own. If I could afford to come down more often, God knows I would, but between money and classes -"

"It's alright, Becca, I understand. I don't expect you to give up your studies like that, and neither does he."

"Still, you look weary, Clint. Is there nothing I can do to help? Nothing at all?"

"Uh... I don't think so... I mean, maybe calling him every now and again? Steve does it, and it helps so long as he remembers it afterwards."

She nods. "Of course I'll do that. But I was talking about you."

Clint blinks. "Huh?"

"You're tired. Don't you need to take a break from worrying over him?"

"Who says I worry over him?"

"Your face." He mutters something about Barneses seeing too well for their own good, and she reaches out to take his hand. "I know you said you don't want me abandoning my studies to look after Bucky, so I'll suggest this instead: Fall break starts soon. I won't have much work, and this year we're getting a whole week off instead of an extended weekend. I can book a hotel nearby, rent a car, and take responsibility for my brother for that week. How does that sound?"

A little scary. A lot of things could go wrong, least of all Bucky mistaking his absence for abandonment, and then there's the issue of what the fuck is he going to do for a whole seven days? But Becca has a point, and the idea of a 'holiday' appeals. Maybe he could get the others together for something? Nobody's seen Tony in a long time. Perhaps they could take a trip to Malibu. He could have a job by then. Kate would still be looking after Lucky, and he trusts Becca to take good care of Bucky... "Yeah. Okay." He squeezes her hand in return. "Thank you, Becca."

Clint can't quite believe it. The letter seems stuck to his fingers, the word 'interview' somehow bigger and brighter than everything else on the page, save for the range's purple and blue logo in the corner. He grabs his phone, texts Kate to say he owes her forever, then rings the number at the bottom to confirm his interest.

A job at an archery range. It's... perfect.

The trip to Malibu turns into a Tony Stark-funded extended stag party for Thor - which is fine by Clint, who hasn't been drunk in a very, very long time. It's over in a blur of alcohol, music, bad dancing and strip teases (and maybe a night of sobbing into Steve's shoulder), and he comes back to find that Bucky and Rebecca have had a good, if uneventful, week themselves. Bucky's a little distant after Becca leaves, but when Clint finally asks how he'd feel about going with him to the wedding he says "If they're okay with me being there," which of course they are, and so Clint makes arrangements with Nurse Morse, Doctor Banner and Coulson to have custody of Bucky for three days.

And it's going... okay. Bucky had a Bad day yesterday, which made the journey challenging, but he's calmer today, thank god. Thor looks like a fucking prince, and even Clint tells Jane she's gorgeous in her wedding gown. Together, well, they're breaking hearts left, right and centre. Except Bucky's, maybe - he watches the ceremony with the same tension in his body as when they went to the beach, and from time to time after the ceremony he pulls Clint to one side to whisper about the guests.

"Bucky, that's Darcy - she is not a KGB spy."

"But she's hiding something in her dress, Clint. And I saw her show a weapon to Steve and Sharon."

"That's her taser. You know she always has that on her."

"Then what's in her dress?"

Clint looks in time to see Darcy slip her phone back into - ah, her bra. "It's her phone. Honestly Bucky, I swear to you, you have nothing to worry about at this wedding."

"But Natasha said -"

"I don't care what Natasha said!" he snaps. "This is a wedding - the KGB are not going to be bothered about this whatsoever! And why would they be after Natasha anyway? She's not even Russian!"

"No, she, she speaks it -"

"So do you, but are you Russian? Natasha took Russian studies at college, Bucky. She was in your fucking class before her accident, don't you... Don't you remember?"

Brow furrowed, Bucky shakes his head. "She's seen them, Clint."

"Have you?"

"... No -"

"Then stop looking for them." Aware that a few friends - as well as a few strangers - are beginning to look their way, Clint takes Bucky's hand and squeezes. "Please just trust me when I say we're safe, alright? I wouldn't have brought you if I thought otherwise."

Bucky says nothing. Clint lets go of his hand and rejoins the celebrations.

Steve: Loki's suing Thor for something.
Me: shit what?
Steve: No-one knows.
Steve: Thor's got Matt Murdock on his side though, so doubt Loki'll get very far.
Me: the blind guy who won the kingpin thing?
Steve: Yeah, him.
Me: that's good
Steve: We think so. I'll let you know if I hear anything more.

"So Thor's brother's taking him to court." Clint shakes his head, wondering again why Thor insists his adopted brother loves him "deep down". "Probably over something trivial, but, y'know, it's kind of exciting anyway. Don't you think? Bucky?"

"There're so many stars out here."

Propping himself up on his elbows, Clint twists to look at his boyfriend over his shoulder. "Did you take any of that in?"

Bucky nods. "How many d'you think there are?"

Dropping the Thor-Loki news, Clint lies back down on the blanket and looks up at the sky. They're on Sharon's aunt's roof garden, enjoying the clear night and just taking it easy. "Don't know. Can't see 'em all."

"There's billions of them."

There's a handful. Clint tips his head, craning his neck so he can see Bucky's face. He looks so, so happy, an expression of childish wonder adorning his face as he lifts both arms up, fingers twitching as if playing dot-to-dot between the constellations. His sleeves are even rolled up, and in the moonlight the scars are almost invisible, like he never put them there in the first place. His eyes twinkle, mirroring the stars he's looking at, and Clint manages to be subtle enough to take a picture on his phone.

"They're like ideas," Bucky says out of the blue. "And dreams. Billions and billions of thoughts all in the sky where everyone can see 'em, and they all look beautiful so no-one gets scared and no-one judges them. Or - maybe they're just all the most beautiful thoughts we've ever had. I mean, stars are gas, right? But you can't always see gas. And you can't see thoughts either, so... Hey, I think that one's mine!"

"Hm?" He points to something Clint can't see, but he humours him. "How d'you know it's yours?"

"Because it looks like you. Your hair colour, I mean."

"So why does that make it yours?" he chuckles.

"What?"

"You said only beautiful thoughts go up there. Why would you be thinking I'm beautiful?"

Bucky looks at him. "Because I love you."

It's said so simply. Clint stares at him, wishing as Bucky goes back to stargazing that he could express how much those words mean to him. His breath catches in his chest when Bucky slides their fingers together, and he tips his gaze skyward again, pretending he can't see the billions of stars Bucky sees because his vision's gone a little blurry for the moment.

After a few minutes, Bucky says, "Nurse Morse says I'm doing better in therapy."

Clint clears his throat. "That's great, Bucky."

"She says I'll be able to spend more time with you soon."

He squeezes his fingers. "Yeah? Well done, Buck. I'm... I'm proud of you." Feeling bold, Clint raises their hands and kisses the back of Bucky's. Looking over, he sees a small but thrilled smile being directed at the stars, and can't help grinning himself. A few more minutes pass, and then Bucky's pointing at the sky again.

"That star there, that really bright one - do you see it?"

"... Yeah, think I do."

"That's Aphrodite, right?"

Clint chuckles. "Nearly. Venus."

"Venus, yeah. She's really beautiful."

"Yeah, Buck. Guess she is."

AN: Thought I'd signal boost this website: Mental Health Foundation. It's a place you can donate towards mental health research, and they have a lot of examples of what they do and people's stories and fundraising ideas and stuff. Standard fundraising page. Donate if you want to, or don't, but I'm invested in mental health, so... Yeah. Signal boost! Otherwise, hope you enjoyed the story. It might not be my most accurate work, but I tried my best - on both Clint's and Bucky's troubles - so I hope I wasn't too far off... :-)