After Bucky placed Steve's oversized body on the medical bed, he snuck out of the room with little difficulty. The scientists focused on their teammate and paid no attention to him as he headed for the staircase. He knew Rogers was safe now. He'd be out of the building within minutes. Well he would have been – if Romanoff wasn't in the stairway, leaning against the wall with one knee bent and her foot pressed against the wall.

"The thing about running," she said as she filed her nails, "you can never run far enough or fast enough to escape yourself."

Bucky stopped a few feet away from her. Her face stirred something in him that he couldn't identify. He thought he had once knew her or someone who looked like her, but there was nothing concrete, just an unsettled feeling. He hated this – the constant knowing but not knowing. He just wanted his own damn mind back. And he didn't have time for this. Black Widow was more dangerous and smarter than Rogers. Not that that was hard. Most bricks were smarter than Rogers.

"This isn't about me," he replied.

The assassin stopped filing and gave him a flat look. "It's always about you," She said and pushed off the wall with her foot and faced him head on. "But let's pretend it's about Steve. Let's pretend you are really leaving to protect him. Steve has been more reckless since he found out you're alive, and he was already jumping out of planes without parachutes."

What.

Just. What.

Rogers was an idiot. You don't jump out of planes without a chute, punk. His mind froze. He had said those words before. A memory returned of fierce anger and overwhelming relief. The emotions from the memory made his stomach twist into knots. How does one person experience that much emotion and not pull apart? He forced his brain into the present, forgot the emotions, and realized that Romanoff was waiting for him to respond.

"What?"

She stared hard at Bucky, and her glare made him feel like tiny spiders were crawling down his spine. He didn't like it. Or her.

"What do you think he will do when he realizes all he has to get you return is to risk his safety?" She repeated.

This was categorically not true. Rogers had been risking his life since the 30s, and Bucky had not run into every stupid fight the kid had picked.

LIE.

Fine, but it had been three years and Bucky hadn't gotten involved. Captain America could take care of himself.

LIE.

"He won't find me," Bucky growled.

Romanoff rolled her eyes. "Of course not. He has the tracking skills of a drunk moose. But you're ignoring my question. When Steve realizes that you'll show up to protect him, how long do you think it will take for him to find an excuse to throw himself off a building?"

"Rogers is an idiot." He balled his hands into fists.

"I'm not going to argue with that," The redhead replied. "But can we agree you are not leaving for Steve?"

"I'll hurt him," he defended himself.

"Probably." She shrugged.

"I'm not safe," he growled.

"No, you're not," she agreed.

Frustrated, he threw his hands in the air in a motion that was both foreign and familiar. He quickly brought them back to his sides.

"I can't face him."

Romanoff walked closer to him and reached out to touch him, before clearly discarding the idea. She was telegraphing her body moment though, and the Winter Soldier wondered what angle she was playing.

"One conversation. That's all I'm asking for."

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

An emotion played across her face - that he knew was not real - before she responded. If she thought that she could make him believe she was an emotional damsel in distress, she thought wrong. Widow was not a damsel, nor was she ever in distress. She was a high-level threat.

"He's my friend," she stated, like it explained everything.

And maybe it did. He didn't remember much, but he knew that at one point in time, he would have done anything for the stupid idiot.

"One conversation," he growled, and turned to walk back up the stairs, not caring if Romanoff followed.

Twenty hours had passed since he had agreed to speak with Steve, and Barnes was certain he was going insane. When he had agreed to stay, Romanoff had neglected to tell him that it would likely take 72 hours for Steve to wake up. The lazy punk.

Widow had offered to take him to the gym to spare but he had declined, so instead he sat in this stupidly soft chair, and he tried to refrain from counting the minutes. Romanoff sat on the couch next to him. She had one knee bent, and she was leaning against her thigh as she painted her toenails. The smell was obnoxious, and the purpose was unclear.

"Why do you do that?" Bucky asked.

She didn't look up from her work when she replied, "Because I can."

He didn't understand. She probably just enjoyed polluting the air with that foul smell.

She looked up at him and gave him a mischievous smile. "Steve hates the smell too."

Romanoff was a terrible person.

When the redhead finished painting her toenails, she looked back at him. "So, is your plan to just sit in that chair until Steve wakes up?" She asked.

"Affirmative," he replied. An additional 33 minutes had past. There were only 3,087 minutes until Rogers woke up.

Widow stared at him for a long time. He did not like it. She needed to stop, but no one told Romanoff what to do, so he was stuck in this terrible reality. Because of Rogers. Ass.

The front door to the apartment opened. In less than a second, he was between Romanoff and the intruder. His left hand pulled a concealed handgun, while his right went for his favorite knife. It was the black man, whose wings he broke.

The man instinctively threw his hands up in the air. "I come in peace," he said.

Romanoff snorted behind him. He turned his head to her to find her staring at him.

"And here I thought you didn't like me," she smiled.

Terrible person.

He stuffed his weapons back into their concealed locations and headed back for his chair.

The black man, Steve's new friend, put his hands down, but kept them where the Soldier could see him. "I thought you might like a break." The newcomer said to Romanoff.

Natasha crossed the room in seconds. "I could use a shower. Have fun boys!"

The black man shifted on his feet. "I'm Sam," he said.

Barnes nodded. "Affirmative. Name Samuel Thomas Wilson. Codename Falcon. Current sidekick to Captain America."

"Sidekick?!" The man sputtered. "I ain't nobody's sidekick."

Barnes smirked. "You've been following Steve around like a lost puppy."

"I've been keeping him alive," Sam grumbled as he threw himself onto the seat Natasha had vacated.

"Pretty much the same thing."

"Yeah, well someone has to," Sam grumbled again, but there is less complaint in it.

There's silence for a moment, and Barnes found himself tracking the minutes again. There's still 3080 remaining.

Sam shifted his weight on the couch, and it was all the warning Bucky received before he opened interrogations.

"Why did you agree to stay?"

The Soldier glared at the man in response.

"Glare all you want. It's much less effective after seeing you protect tiny Steve," Sam relaxed back into the couch and raised a single eyebrow in challenge.

Barnes glared harder.

"Alright, man. I'll stuff the questions."

Barnes relaxed further into his chair.

"Want to watch a movie?" Wilson asked him as he deliberately attempts to act more comfortable than he was.

Barnes shifted further back into his chair, which he hoped communicated clearly.

Sam smiled at him. "Jarvis, can you pick a movie for us."

"With pleasure, Sir."

Barnes had not communicated clearly, but at least the movie had stopped questions.

It is the end of the third stupid cartoon movie that Wilson asked him if he wanted to sleep. He couldn't sleep. He didn't trust these people. There must have been something in his expression because Wilson's face softened.

"I'll leave. No one will bother you, and Jarvis will alert you to any security threats." Sam walked to the door without another word, and Barnes found the silence of the place unnerving. The tower didn't let outside noises in, and now he only heard the soft glow of the lights and the sound of his own breathing.

He turned to head to the bedroom. He didn't remember the last time he slept, and it wouldn't do to try and reason with Rogers with a clouded mind.

He snorted. Reason with Rogers. Yeah, that'd be the day.

He took one look at the bed before laying on the floor. Four hundred and fifty-two minutes later, he fell asleep.

When he wakes up, Wilson has returned and has been cooking.

"Oh good. I made eggs. I imagine your metabolism is similar to Steve's, and he needs a lot of protein."

"I have successfully completed missions without food."

Sam stilled in the kitchen before slowly turning. There's a glint of something on his face that the Soldier can't decipher.

"I'm sure you have," the man said, sounding like he didn't approve. "But since you're not on a mission and there's no need to go without. Do you want some eggs?"

Barnes acquiesced.

After breakfast, Wilson was doing the dishes when he asked, "Would you like to watch more movies?"

Barnes didn't reply, but he did return to his chair where he continued to count minutes.

Wilson muttered something under his breath, and Jarvis put on more cartoons. Barnes tuned everything out as he tried to develop a plan to deal with Rogers.

It is 623 minutes later, when Jarvis announced that Rogers had finally woken up and returned to his quarters. Rogers has woken up ahead of schedule, but the stupid lug had always been an overachiever.

An additional 755 minutes have passed when Rogers and Romanoff finally come through the door. Rogers just stared at him. The poor idiot kept trying to work his mouth with zero success. Bucky felt sorry for the punk.

"You going to say something or did ya come down here to give me your best interpretation of a fish?"

"Bucky!"

Barnes rolled his eyes. Why is he the one more capable of linguistic achievement? "Yeah punk, it's me and it's not."

Romanoff and Wilson retreated out the door, leaving the two to work out their issues. Steve didn't seem to notice or care. His eyes were glued to Barnes.

Rogers nodded. "We've both changed."

Barnes couldn't help it. He snorted at that. "Pretty sure only one of us has tried to pound the other's face in."

"It doesn't matter." Steve said with the same conviction he used to rally the men into a fight in the 40s.

"It matters to me," he hissed. "I'm not safe."

"I don't care."

Barnes snorted again. His flesh hand balled into a fist. "Of course not. You don't have the sense of a brick."

Rogers was angry. Barnes knew he was trying to project an aura of calm, but the telltale signs of an angry Steve Rogers were there. He only wished he could remember what those signs were and how his brain knew them.

"To the end of the line." Rogers said calmly, way too calmly.

"That line ended on a train."

Rogers looked as though Bucky had slapped him across the face. His face morphed from anger to absolute horror. The blood drained from the Captain's face. Barnes put that expression on Steve's face. Even when he tried to protect him, he damaged him.

"Buck, I'm-" Steve shook. "I'm sor-"

Anger filled Barnes. "Shut up," he snapped. Steve's mouth immediately closed, and Barnes stepped away from Rogers. He was angry enough to hit the man. "Don't apologize."

Bucky stared at the man before him. Steve was a mess. There were signs that Steve wasn't doing well. He couldn't figure out what they were, but he knew they were there. It was frustrating. He could remember, but he didn't.

And Rogers. Looking at the man brought too many emotions swirling in Bucky's head. He ignored them to hold on to the anger. Anger at least was productive. He never felt this much during the three years, he avoided Rogers.

Damn.

Romanoff was right. He didn't stay away for Steve. He stayed away to protect himself. Staring at Steve's broken expression and desperation. He sighed.

"Alright fine, I'll stay, but I ain't sharing a bed with you. You hog the covers." He had never won an argument with Rogers anyway.

Author's Note: Just one more chapter with Steve and Tony left.