Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me.
"So, what happened?"
Steve sighed with disgust, tossing his black biro onto the table. He, Sam, and Natasha were in Sam's lounge. It was Wednesday, a day after his encounter with Bucky in the restaurant. He hadn't spoken a word on the drive back to his apartment, and Natasha had been thoughtful enough not to press or question him.
He looked at Sam. "He looked right through me. Acted as though he didn't even know me."
Sam blinked. "But - why?"
"Brainwashing," Natasha called from the kitchen. "He's only supposed to know all the sychophants and hangers on that get paid to kiss his ass. So he's wheeled out to smile for them and when normal people come along, he freaks."
"Natasha," Sam called, warningly. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, man. Fame does strange things to people."
"Fame is definitely doing strange things to him," Steve rubbed his forehead. "He doesn't even look like the guy I grew up with!" He got up, beginning to pace. "He used to be able to hold an AR14, a backpack, and run with it for ten miles. Now he looks like he could barely walk 500 metres with that!"
"He is a little skinny," Natasha interjected, walking out of the kitchen, holding a glass of water. She folded her legs into a chair, settling herself. "Maybe we should kidnap him and force feed him ice cream." She leaned back in here seat. "And cheesecake. Fatten him back up, then he can't work."
Steve glowered. "Please, tell me that was one of your unfunny jokes."
Sam looked at her. "And if he does have an eating disorder, that will make him worse, you know?"
"Actually, it was a joke," she retorted. "I have no desire to make anyone sick. But I am serious about the too thin. He doesn't look well. But the fact is, he pretended not to know you. Let it go, Steve, please. You were friends, but he has a different life now. And if you persist, he'll only try and get you arrested for stalking."
"He looked at me," Steve said, tonelessly. "Like he didn't even know me."
Sam looked at Natasha. Biting her lip, she looked away. After a pause, Steve spoke again.
"Am I crazy?"
She took a sip of water. "What makes you say that?"
"For feeling like this. About someone who seems to have taken our friendship and trashed it." Steve leaned forward, rubbing his forehead. "I think I am. I'm sitting here, wondering if he's OK, he clearly doesn't care-"
She looked at him. He nodded. "It stops."
"Good."
"Why should I care?" Steve snapped. "He can starve and work himself out to death for all I care." He shrugged.
Natasha took a swallow of water. Not willing to challenge him on a statement she knew was patently untrue, she decided to let the silence fall. Sam sighed softly. For a long, uncomfortable moment, no-one said a word.
Bucky shifted in bed. He felt too hot, and kicked off the covers. As the pressed, expensive linen collapsed to the floor, he swallowed. Raising a hand, he ran his fingers along his forehead. He was perspiring furiously. As though he'd been for a run, or a particularly vigorous gym session.
Frowning, he began to sit up, and started to reach along his arm, checking for his pulse. It was pounding, causing the blood to roar in his ears.
Concerned, he began to get up, pushing the covers off and walking to the bathroom. Flicking on the electric light, he stared at himself in the mirror. His skin was pale, and his eyes looked bloodshot. Frowning, he turned the tap on, and began to splash water on his face.
"James?"
He blinked, shocked. Going out of the bathroom, and into the main bedroom, he saw a woman was lying in his bed, looking slightly confused. He stared at her, completely uncomprehending who she actually was. "You-?"
"Its Alicia," she said, looking slightly offended. "We met in the restaurant, remember?"
He blinked. He didn't. He didn't remember meeting her, speaking to her, inviting her to his room, or- he shook his head, hoping to clear it. "Did we...?"
She pouted. "You don't remember? Alex said I'd be good for you." She patted the pillows. "Come on, get back in."
He shook his head. "I think you need to leave."
She looked at him. "James, its 2am. I can't just leave. And you're not kicking me out."
"Fine." He walked over to the chair where he'd tossed the clothes he'd been wearing that evening. "I'll just go to reception and ask them to find me another room."
"James." She looked at him. "You're not going anywhere. Now come back to bed."
He looked at her. "Really?"
"To get another room you'll need your wallet." She got up, and began to wind her arms round him. "Which I think you'll find you don't have at the moment."
He looked at her. "Where is it?"
"I gave it to Pierce." She smiled at him. "Now, are you coming to bed, or not?"
Suddenly feeling slightly frightened, he allowed himself to be pulled back to the cocoon of material. As he lay down, his heart began to pound again, and he felt the perspiration.
"Hey," she whispered, stroking his back. "You need to calm down."
He closed his eyes. His heart was still racing. Suddenly, he felt her hands on him. "Stop it."
"Oh, come on," she whispered. "Alex said you'd be-"
He blinked, and began to sit up, quickly, startling her. "Alex had no right to say anything. I'll choose who I sleep with, and I have no memory of even asking you up here this evening."
She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. "Careful, Barnes," she said, her voice a slight hiss. "Alex wants me to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don't suddenly start ringing room service, or sneaking out to get junk in the middle of the night. Alex thinks his investment-" she gave him a sharp dig in the ribs - "is losing his focus."
Bucky fell silent.
"Go to sleep."
"So, assignments are due, Thursday morning, thank you."
Steve smiled as his students left. It was lunch time, and he needed to head to the Staff lounge to grab coffee and start grading papers. It had been almost a week since his uncomfortable encounters with Bucky, and he was determined to leave them in the past. He hummed quietly under his breath as he began to tidy up his desk, which was covered in scattered papers and pens.
He shuffled the papers, and sank into his seat, sighing slightly. He'd tried his hardest to ignore the encounter, and pretend it hadn't happened. He'd spent the rest of the weekend quietly, catching up on work he'd needed to do, and also trying to watch TV. Work had been busy as usual on Monday, and the students needed preparation for the mid Semester exams. He'd managed to skillfully avoid any long, probing conversations with Natasha, and Sam. He'd gone to work, gone home, and then spent the evening working, or reading. He'd started switching his cellphone off in the evenings so no-one could contact him.
But he couldn't forget about it. He couldn't forget the haunted looking man he'd seen in the restaurant, and on his couch. He looked like a pale, thin, facsimile of himself - devoid of his former personality or charisma. As though he were simply tugged about, pulled around, told to go and do what those in charge said.
"You all right, man?"
Steve turned. Sam was in the doorway. "I'm fine," Steve said, nodding. "Why shouldn't I be?"
Sam's face was tight. "Just wondered if you'd seen the news today."
"Hardly!" Steve laughed. "I've been teaching all morning."
"Well, you might want to log on." Sam swallowed. There was a tenseness to his expression that Steve had never seen before. "On to the internet."
Steve looked at him, slightly bewildered. "Sam...what is this?"
"Sam!" Suddenly Natasha appeared, her expression anxious. "If he doesn't know-"
"Know what?!" Steve felt himself becoming exasperated. "What's happened? Declaration of nuclear war? A terrorist attack?!"
"Just log on," Natasha said, her voice quiet and controlled.
Steve, sighing, logged onto the the school's internet connection. "Go to news."
He did so. "OK," he commented, "Pistorius, Ebola...lovely. Thanks guys."
"I suggest you scroll," Natasha commented, leaning over. "Go to Celebrity Gossip."
Steve followed her instruction. He idly let his eyes slide over banal fluff, and then, suddenly, he felt his blood freeze. "James Buchanan Barnes collapses at Fashion Show", a headline announced.
"Read."
Steve blinked. "James Buchanan Barnes, top male model, collapsed at a fashion show whilst on the runway-" he swallowed, his throat feeling tight. "Apparently suffering from exhaustion and possible malnutrition-"
Sam spoke first. "Steve. Sorry."
"What for?"
"For this."
"Its not your fault." Steve looked at them both. "Anyway, he can afford to have people look after him." He picked up his pen, but Natasha noticed his hand was shaking.
"Don't you want to know where he's been taken?"
Steve looked at Natasha.
"No," he said, softly. "I don't."
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