Chapter 10

"Keep walking," Chidike whispers in my ear, guiding me with an iron grip on my arm. I briskly walk forward, looking anxiously around me.

People glance at the two of us. They are probably wondering what a giant Wakandan and petite white girl are doing strolling quickly through the streets of Bucharest. Chidike lets go of my arm and I rub the sore muscle.

Ever since Bucky's break down, I have been going, going, going, nonstop. The whole event was so striking to me. I feel sick constantly. Nauseas. Something inside me is off kilter, all of my thoughts are thrown off by the overwhelming color of anxiety. Everything is drenched in gray.

We near the cafe. It's underneath a building that has many tan columns. Small tables sit outside, and, through a few of the columns, I see many glass windows. I stop dead in my tracks.

Stark. Tony Stark.

He is sitting at a small table inside. The sharp suit, goatee, and rose colored glasses, are unmistakable. Chidike almost slams into me, and would have if it wasn't for his acute awareness of his surroundings. The brawny mans brown eyes follow mine to where they are glued to Starks relaxed form. He's simply sipping espresso.

Why is Stark here?! A simple middleman was supposed to drop the glasses off in an inconspicuous hand off. This is what Stark's head of security and Chidike agreed on over a text message. My nerves jack up to a ten, everything shifts from gray mush to red hot fire.

Is Stark not going to give us the glasses? Why would he come all the way to Romania?

"Wait," Chidike says gruffly to me. "Stand here." He shoves me down an alley near the cafe. I watch as he rounds the corner and goes into the door. My diaphragm heaves. The shock is still streaming through my body.

When Chidike tall dark form comes out, I run to him, despite possible detection. "What does he want?"

"To speak to you. Come," He pulls me towards the door. I have to listen intently to understand his heavy Wakandan accent. "We don't want anyone to see you."

When I enter the cafe, the strong smell of coffee and exotic pastries plasters onto me. The smells weave into my clothing. Everything about the atmosphere is calming. Even the way Stark is slouching, eyebrows lifted when he sees me, stops my stomach churning. I still don't know what to expect, though.

I smooth down my blue shirt/dress, and my sneakers scuffle across the floor. As I near the chair, Tony stands up. "Ah, Miss Ella. Thanks for meeting my humble self here. I didn't want my money going into some old therapists greedy hands, but I see you're actually hotter than expected. It must be the deeper voice." He pulls out the opposite chair for me. Well, isn't he the charmer.

I laugh despite myself. "Uh, thanks." Taking a chair, I try to sort my thoughts and appear casual. I think I only manage to look constipated, with my arms plastered to my sides, in an effort to avoid my pit stains showing, and my twisted face. "Why are you here?" The confusion all comes out in that package of tightly spoken words.

Stark raises his eyebrows as he takes his seat, pushing his suit jacket out behind him with a flourish. "I wanted to know whose hands my machine was falling into. You see," Stark takes a delicate sip of his espresso. "Those glasses cost me a pretty penny. And, since I was feeling so generous, I thought I would come out here and explain how to use them."

"Ok," I say, shifting in my chair. "Well, I do have some questions about how exactly it affects the hippocampus in terms of la-"

"Whoa there." Tony puts his hands up. "Things always sound better coming from my mouth. Let me explain. It's not as magical as it sounds."

"But it-"

Stark interrupts me once again. This man has so much sass.

"Will you let me get two words out?! Geez, I thought shrinks were supposed to listen." He sighs. "When I made this prototype, I was going through a lot. A lot of regret. Obviously, I'm amazing, and the machine works, but-"

I laugh aloud. Stark looks offended. Looking back at Chidike, who has taken a seat a table away, he says, "Could you get her to be quiet? I mean really, this is ridiculous."

I huff, then listen. Stark, obviously, starts talking again. "I rarely say this, but the machine has its flaws. I don't expect you to understand all of the mechanics behind the frames, so I'll dumb it down. Sensors in the tails send and receive signals from the hippocampus, which project memories through the glass. But the core of what the glasses do, is try to change the memory. It will be changed in a way it never happened. While this might help with some of Barnes trauma, all it will do is hide it."

Reality slaps me in the face. Bucky cannot go on as he is now. Everytime he has tried to confront his murders, it ended in pain and horrible flashbacks. I don't want him to stuff it down; that will only reverse what I'm trying to do. But if we could only make the memories more bearable for the time being, then maybe we could get somewhere….

I need this. I need this so bad. But, why? Whenever Bucky is lying on the floor, in a pool of his own torment, I feel every beat of his suffering. My heart spreads rapidly when I try to sooth him, as if this delicate being has been handed to my care. And I want more then anything to see it survive.

"I still want it."

Tony's brown eye's scan my face beneath his rose tinted glasses. His eyebrows release their crease. "Fine. But it didn't help me."

"I have no other choice," I whisper softly, looking away from his piercing gaze.

Guilt ravages my body like a dagger being pushed into my heart, then pulled steadily out, dripping with mistakes I've made. The faults that have affected Bucky to the core. This could be the only way to fix things, and I'm so desperate.

I hate being desperate.

For a minute Tony and I do nothing but sit at the table, absorbing the sun that comes through the glass. Our eye's point to random places in the room. But we are not looking at this man-made shop. Rather, spaces in time that hold memories and thoughts. Bundles of recollection and regrets are formed in our mind, and are forever ingrained into those points we chose to look into. What depth this coffee shop now has.

Stark opens his mouth, then shuts it. He grunts, and picks up small metal case off the ground near his feat. With a sigh, it's slid across the table to it's new, desperate owner: me.

I prepare to stand up, now in the mindset to help Bucky, but Stark stops me. "Say hi to the old man for me," Stark says with so much dejection.

The trance shatters. As the consuming fire of compassion overcomes me, I automatically slide back into my seat. "I will. I'm sure Steve will be glad to hear it. They miss everything you built, ya know?"

"Ha, you mean everything I destroyed." It's like sarcasm was spat on my face.

"You may have destroyed things, but you also built a team that saved thousands of lives!" I sigh, putting my hands in front of me. "Tony. Trying to hide in the shadows and conform to the government and system, is not doing anybody any favors. You're Tony Stark! The background was not made for you. You're suppressing your creativity and the things you use to help people survive. I get that you feel as if everything you've done was a mistake. I don't believe that. All that has happened, happened for a reason. While you may not see how the heck this situation is good, eventually, you will."

"Yeah, I don't see that ever happening. You don't understand." Stark's voice fills with emotion: an unusual thing for him. His voice cracks ever so slightly. "The things that make me Tony Stark are the things that make other people's lives a living hell."

I stumble on my words. All this sounds like some kind of fake speech. "Most people would be dead, if not for you! And the Avenger's lives would be like that no matter what. You brought them together so that they can share in their suffering, and joy's. If they didn't have that, they would all be goners."

What impact these words will have on Stark, I don't know. But as I stand up, leaving Stark staring into the depths of his espresso, I hope that he feels comforted. The small things I can do, don't seem like much. What needs to happen is reconciliation. Should that happen before or after the Avengers are slightly better? Perhaps reconciliation will be the only thing that truly heals them.

/

Bucky lies in his bed, shivering in a hot sweat. The door cracks open, letting in a sliver of light to cut the dark.

"Bucky?" Ella's sweet voice makes Bucky's shivers slow. "It's time, if you're ready?"

Without a word, Bucky gets up to meet Ella's heart shaped face at the door. Her brown hair is in curls and frames her face and her red checks show she ran to his room. All the fear and torture leave Bucky for a moment, a moment that is consumed by blind trust.

Ella wants to help me. She wants too. Bucky's mind spins.

She gently takes his hand, and his blue eye's glue to her's. They walk down the hall to the procedure that will forever intertwine their fate. The procedure where brokenness will be replaced with blankness. Where love will grow through the depths of grief.