Author's Note: So I saw Civil War opening night on the fifth and just...guys. Guys. Guys...
-drowns in feels forever-
James Buchannon Barnes is a precious cinnamon roll, and I jUsT WaNT hiM TO Be haPpY
My gross sobbing aside, thanks again to my wonderful Beta, nighttimelights! Remember to drop a review if you enjoy, they super make my day and help me keep up the energy to write!
The Times They Are A-Changin'
Chapter Seven: A Helping Hand
Bucky initially reveled in the quiet that overtook the dorm wing when his teammates left for the party, but before long the silence became deafening. Feeling restless and unable to sit in his room any longer, the ex-soldier grabbed his little kit of tools and headed for the observation deck.
Well, they called it the observation deck, but it was actually just a small room squeezed in between the kitchen and the rumpus room that hosted a bank of monitors patched into the compound's security system. From there, they could see anything happening anywhere on the grounds at any given time.
It wasn't often that any of them actually spent time in the small room, but Bucky liked to hide out there sometimes. It afforded him both solitude and a bird's eye view of what was happening around him.
After a brief perusal of the many screens showed that there was little of interest happening, the former soldier plopped down in a chair and opened the small tool kit he had brought with him. It wasn't something he'd ever let any of his teammates see him doing, but his arm required occasional maintenance. In the past his Hydra handlers had primarily handled the bulk of this, but even then inevitable mishaps in the field meant that he had to know how to do it himself.
Using a tiny, specially crafted key, Bucky popped several of the plates off of his palm to expose the inner workings of his hand. No one else had noticed, but the joints of his fingers had started to click, and in his experience that inevitably preluded seizing glitches in his hand of increasing severity, making fine gestures next to impossible.
The man worked in contented silence for several minutes before the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end. He whipped around to look behind him.
Bucky made a strangled noise when he found Vision standing directly behind him, staring at his work with an expression of interest on his face. When the ex-soldier made to jump to his feet, the other man gripped his shoulder and held him in place.
"No, please, I don't wish to disrupt you," the technopath said, nodding to the exposed mechanisms of Bucky's hand. After a moment, he carefully released his hold on him. "I only came to have a look at the security monitors."
The dark haired man narrowed his eyes at Vision, but reluctantly turned his attention back to his work, skin still crawling with the nearness of the artificial lifeform.
A moment later, Vision abruptly asked, "I make you uncomfortable, don't I?" making Bucky pause briefly in his work before continuing.
"Yeah," he admitted eventually. He figured he might as well be up front. It wasn't as though it weren't obvious, after all.
"Why?" The technopath asked curiously, no hint of hurt in his melodious voice as he tilted his head to one side. "Because I am an artificial lifeform? I understand that that makes some humans uncomfortable," he guessed.
"No," Bucky replied flatly, eyes still on his task as he made the careful adjustments to the delicate machinery in his hand.
This answer seemed to take Vision by surprise, peaking his interest and encouraging him to take the seat next to the former soldier. "May I be of assistance?" He asked politely.
Bucky finally looked at him, expression wary. The look only brought a smile of amusement to the other man's face as he added, "I am a technopath. I believe you will find I am more than capable recalibrating the machinery in your artificial limb."
The shorter man hesitated, then offered Vision his miniature screwdriver, not entirely sure of what made him decide to allow the AI to work on him. After all, if he screwed up, it wasn't as though there were any record of how to repair his arm. Perhaps Scott could, with some time, but it would be inconvenient at best, and potentially agonizing at worst. If they were forced to remove the entire limb, Bucky would have to be anesthetized until it could be reattached. The root of the machinery was too tightly intertwined with his nervous system, even if the arm itself couldn't feel much.
Vision waved off the proffered tool, and simply leaned in to look at Bucky's hand. Or he thought that was what the AI was doing, until he too looked and realized that pieces were realigning with a speed and precision that would have been impossible for him.
"So, if it is not the nature of my birth that makes you uncomfortable, then what is it?" Vision asked without looking away from his task.
Sitting back, Bucky watched the Avenger work, mulling over his answer and whether or not to give it. Eventually, though, he replied, "It's your eyes."
"My eyes?" Vision asked, sounding incredulous as he looked up at Bucky, gray eyes wide with surprise at this strange answer. The other man immediately averted his own gaze though, prompting the AI to continue. "What about them discomfits you? Is their color unacceptable?"
"No," Bucky ground out, one knee bouncing unconsciously as he watched the monitors without really seeing anything on them. "They just-" he waved his good hand vaguely as he scowled. "There's something about them that makes me feel like you can see right through me. Like all the monstrous shit I did for all those years is written on the inside of my skull for you to read."
"I would not judge you for actions that were not truly your own, Bucky Barnes," Vision said, brow furrowed sympathetically. "I am well aware of the nature of your existence these past seventy years."
Bucky only grunted, lips pressed into a thin line.
"If it makes you feel better," the AI continued after a moment, "The workings of your mind are as much a mystery to me as anyone else's. While I have a vast array of knowledge at my disposal, and the ability to manipulate technology," here he gestured to Bucky's own hand, "I have no ability to see your thoughts or memories."
The ex-soldier listened, jaw set. He already knew all of this, of course, but somehow it did help to hear it from the source.
"Our Scarlet Witch is the only one here with that particular skill."
Bucky winced, but nodded, knowing this as well. As a rule, Wanda didn't poke around in people's heads, and looking into their memories was something that took active effort on her part anyway. He had vague memories of her attempting to do just that to him in the early days of his arrival at the compound, but they were foggy, and he knew that she had long since learned her lesson on that front.
Still, for some reason, the idea of Vision seeing what he had done bothered the man far more than the thought of Wanda doing the same. Possibly because Wanda, at least, was human (or close enough) and had her own demons to deal with. Vision, on the other hand...was perfect.
Created perfect, springing forth fully formed into the world to protect humanity against all forms of threat, including the monster he might have been had fate not intervened. Vision was like some deity of myth and legend; an actual deity, unlike Thor and his kin.
"There, all done."
Bucky blinked down at his hand as Vision sat back and carefully returned the protective exo-plates to his palm. A process that normally took him hours had taken the AI only minutes.
"I would have finished more quickly, but I thought you would appreciate me taking my time, considering the importance of the task," Vision said.
The former soldier stared at the man for a moment before a snort escaped him, which rapidly changed into a chuckle, and then into an outright laugh.
Vision seemed taken aback by the reaction, and Bucky couldn't blame him. He wasn't entirely sure why, but somehow making eye contact with the artificial lifeform no longer discomfited him the way it once had.
"Thanks," he said, flexing his hand experimentally. It moved fluidly, with nary a click to be heard no matter how he tightened, stretched, or bent the appendage. "Pretty good work."
"You're welcome," Vision said, words slow as he tilted his head thoughtfully, watching Bucky as he tested the limb for a moment before getting to his feet and heading for the door.
"I-" the technopath began as he paused in the doorway, hesitating when Bucky turned to look at him, brow furrowed. "I do hope we might become friends, Bucky Barnes. In time."
Taken aback by the vulnerability in the other man's crimson features, Bucky was quiet for so long that Vision actually turned to leave before he replied, "Bucky."
"Excuse me?" The other man asked, confused.
"Just...call me Bucky for starters."
A smile spread over Vision's face and the former soldier saw a ghost of Steve's own in it, making his heart jump unexpectedly.
"Thank you, Bucky," the technopath said and turned to leave, only to stop once again. "As a future friend, would it be impertinent of me to voice another hope?"
Bucky's expression twisted into one of confusion, but curiosity prompted him to say, "I guess not?"
Vision nodded, then said, "I hope you will stop avoiding the Captain soon. Your avoidance of him today has made him terribly unhappy. He gives you your space, but it is plain even to me that it pains him. He cares for you very deeply, after all."
Stunned, Bucky watched Vision nod and smile once more before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
The man knew of course that Steve would rather he didn't avoid him, but did it really cause him outright pain? Or was Vision exaggerating? He was new to the whole 'life' thing, after all. Maybe he simply didn't understand…
Still, maybe it would be best to stop avoiding Steve. He'd run from his best friend for years, was now really the time to take up the habit again just because he'd had a fit of nerves when they'd danced the day before?
Feeling thoughtful, Bucky packed up his toolkit and then sat back in his chair to watch the security monitors, his thoughts miles away with a man who was about to step onto the dance floor at long last.
Author's Note: Also, I already had two sequels for this planned (well, one and a half. One was more of a sort of short/intermission), and Civil War gave me a great way to work with the short, so look forward to it!
Remember to drop a review so I can actually keep up the inspiration to write all that madness 8'D