Technically, he doesn't have a job anymore. SHIELD dissolved, basically.

Tasha told him Maria has gone to work for Stark. He's giving the matter some thought. There's always the carny circuit, after all. At the moment, though, he's catching Bucky up on history and pop culture.

It's kind of fun, actually. And it's not a complete catch up session, either. Every so often, Bucky will say, "I remember that," and Clint will write down whatever it was and a date, so that later they can maybe put together a shaky timeline for him.

He knows Nat has given Steve the file she'd pulled from her contacts —but they can't ask for the file back or Steve will know something is up. Plus, Nat thought it'd be better for Bucky to try to get a handle on his head before he read a bunch of shocking clinical facts on the Winter Soldier.

Clint figures she knows what she's talking about. He does doubt her, though, once or twice —remembering something terrible you did isn't a walk in the park. Take this moment, for example:

"I remember that," Bucky says, jaw clenching. His face has gone pale, hard —Clint stares at the book open in front of them. History of the United States, it says. In Pictures.

Clint licks his lips, feeling the land mine just out of reach. "Which —"

"That," Bucky says, jabbing the picture in the middle of the page. "It was me."

"Ah," is all Clint can say. He wishes Nat were here. Her low voice and steady eyes would surely be a better option than his stuttering phrases right now. But she's out visiting Sharon, trying to make the most of her downtime to play cupid with her and Steve, and won't be back 'til late.

"It was —it was me," Bucky repeats, horror mounting in his face as the full weight of the blow hits him. "God—"

Clint grabs his flesh shoulder, squeezes. "Breathe, Buck."

"I killed the President of the United States," Bucky mutters, staring at the color photograph of JFK in a convertible in Dallas, moments before his death.

"It wasn't you," Clint says, voice low. "You had no control; HYDRA —"

Bucky shakes his hand off his shoulder. "It was still me." He stands up and moves away from the couch, runs his hand through his hair, breathing hard. "They'll never forgive me for this."

"Bucky." Clint stands. "HYDRA assassinated JFK. HYDRA ordered the killings, the missions, the deaths. Not you. HYDRA."

"But I remember it," Bucky hisses. "I pulled the trigger. Me."

"So did I," Clint says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bucky glares at him, suspicious, unsure.

"New York. Giant wormhole, portal thing. Aliens everywhere. Orchestrated by a guy named Loki —Thor's brother. Heard of Thor? Literal Norse god." Clint shakes his head. Who though he'd live in a world where that would be normal?

"Loki had a beef with earth, and he had this scepter thing that scrambled people's heads. Mine, along with a bunch of scientists and other SHIELD agents." Clint shrugs, looking away. "It was like I was in control —thinking rationally, methodically, but totally loyal to him. The part of me that differentiated between friend and foe got locked behind steel plated walls."

A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he looks back at Bucky. "I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. Killed quite a few people, some of them friends. It was only for a couple of days, but —it messes with you. So I'm not gonna say I get what you're going through, because I can't even imagine the scale—but you're not alone. It takes time, but… you get to a point where you can deal with it. The guilt. Because there isn't anything we could have done. It was all them."

Clint stands, waiting, but Bucky doesn't move. He only blinks, processing.

He passes a hand over his face, spent for the day. "Give yourself some grace, Buck," he murmurs. "And think of what those ghosts would say to you if they knew… what you've been through. If there's any justice in this world, they ought to recognize you're just as much a victim as any of them."

Clint retreats to his room and flops on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He only hopes that some part of his pitiful explanation rings true.

Clint answers the door Saturday morning covering up a yawn. "Morning, Pepper," he says.

"Good morning, Clint," she replies with a smile. The Stark Industries CEO is very casual this morning in jeans and a sweater.

"Come on in." He holds the door open for her. "Where's Maria?"

"Um… Maria is dealing with a situation," Pepper says delicately. "She said to tell Natasha sorry and she'll help her furniture shop later."

"Gotcha," Clint says, nodding sagely. The cereal sounds from the kitchen are suspiciously quiet. "It's okay, Buck," Clint tells the air. "Come meet Pepper. Mum's the word," he says to Pepper. "Don't tell Steve. Or Tony."

She gives him a condescending look. "I can keep a secret from Tony," she says dryly.

Bucky peeks around the kitchen and Clint waves him on encouragingly. "Pepper, this is Bucky Barnes."

"Oh my goodness," Pepper whispers. As all of Bucky comes into view, she beams at him. "Hi. It's nice to meet you, Bucky."

He nods awkwardly, suddenly bashful.

"Hey Pepper," Natasha says, exiting the bathroom carrying her makeup bag and straightener. "Be right with you."

"Take your time," Pepper says with a gentle wave. "So how long has your one person apartment been a three person apartment, Clint?"

"A couple of days with the three of us, three weeks with me and Nat, but it's not bad."

"Natasha's been keeping you in line?"

"I don't see why she should; she took over my apartment."

"I don't know how you ever got along without me," Natasha says grabbing her purse. "Let's go."

"Lovely to meet you, Bucky," Pepper says, waving at the silent soldier still in the doorway.

"Have fun," Clint says.

"Always." Tasha flashes him a grin and he shuts the door behind the two women.

Clint glances over his shoulder. "You alright, Buck?"

"She wasn't scared," Bucky says slowly, chewing over this revelation.

"Were you expecting her to be scared?"

"Kinda," he mumbles, staring at his metal limb.

"Pepper's tough. And she's seen worse. Some nut job shot her up with some gene-manipulation drug thing. Got super strength and glowed like fire for a while, but Tony reversed the effects."

"The guy you think could help me?"

"Yep, they're engaged. Getting married in three months." Clint points to the 'save the date' postcard on his fridge that happily announces the Stark/Potts marriage as Tony and Pepper beam from the middle of Tony's workshop, surrounded by scrap metal and robot parts. Bucky studies it for a long moment, and Clint and goes back to his oatmeal and coffee.

The two men eat in silence, but as they load the dishwasher, Bucky mumbles, "I think… I'd like to talk to him. If Pepper was here."

"Okay," Clint says. "We'll talk to Pepper about it when she and Nat get back."

Progress. Baby steps.

"You love her, don't you?"

Clint pauses. "Pepper?"

"Natasha." Bucky waits.

Clint sighs. "Yeah." Then he smiles.

"I can tell," Bucky says.

Clint laughs. "Yeah, most people can."

"She loves you, too."

He knows that as well —but it amazes him that Bucky can see it. He nods, and they finish the dishes in silence.

Pepper seems to have no problem with Bucky's request —she has taken quite a shine to him, if the clothes she bought him are any indication. "Natasha said he fit into your clothes pretty well, so we just used your sizes," Pepper tells Clint.

"What happened to apartment hunting?" he asks, crossing his arms.

"This was after," she says.

Bucky walks out of the bathroom in dark wash jeans and a t-shirt. "Do I need to try it all on?" he says, looking a little lost.

"No," Pepper says, "look through them and pick out whatever you want. I'll take the rest back. And it's Tony's money, so don't worry. When do you want to have that meeting?"

Clint shrugs. He's got nothing going on, so whenever people decide to invade his apartment is fine with him. "Buck? Today is Saturday. When do you want Tony and Pepper over?"

He thinks about this. "Monday?"

"I'll put it on the calendar," Pepper promises with a smile.

"Don't tell Steve," Bucky says. He still looks a little nervous that his existence is becoming common knowledge.

"I won't," Pepper promises.

"Sam and I were talking about doing something next week," Nat says. "We'll make it Monday and bring Steve."

"Sam, Falcon Sam?" Clint asks.

"Yes, the Falcon," Nat says, wry and amused. "Honestly. You bird boys." They share a smile.