Disclaimer: Just for fun, not for profit. Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Nick Fury, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner and Natasha Romanov (and their alter egos) are property of Marvel. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Day 124

Bucky found himself more on edge the next few days. He was even more vigilant not to sit by windows, and always chose his seat carefully, keeping in mind escape routes. Any movements drew his attention and sent his heart pounding. He found himself scanning the grounds outside at every opportunity, half-anticipating that Tony Stark would be swooping down from the sky in his powered armor, weapons trained on him. He stayed inside the building even for Gold time, though the summer was rapidly approaching autumn and he had been enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin when he ventured into the courtyard. Even at breakfast, he found the one spot in the room not visible from the bank of windows and hid there to eat.

"You never really gave me an answer," Chloe reminded him that morning, setting her tray down on the much-more-exposed other side of the table. He frowned at her slightly, not recalling what she was referring to. She rolled her eyes and glanced over her shoulder at Jeff, who was in the kitchen behind the breakfast cart. "About getting that other guy out of your head," she continued, lowering her voice to a whisper. Bucky shook his head slightly at her.

"I appreciate the offer," he said honestly, "but it's too dangerous." She frowned at him.

"For me, or for you?" she asked.

"Yes," he responded simply. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You don't think I can do it," she accused him. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"A week ago, you still thought you were just hallucinating," he reminded her. "Maybe wait, learn a little more about how it works before you go messing with people's heads."

"I've already been practicing!" she protested. Bucky gave her an incredulous look.

"Practicing how?" he asked warily. She shrugged noncommittally as she poured milk over her cereal.

"Nothing crazy, just trying to help ease symptoms, here and there. You know Melanie?" she asked. Bucky nodded. "She's letting me experiment with her voices. I've been able to make them get softer for awhile, and I even got them to disappear completely for half an hour the other day. And then my roommate, Angela, started to have a panic attack last night, and I got that to go away." She smiled and took a bite of her toast. "I kind of have a knack for it, I think." She did look very proud of herself.

"I'm glad you're finding ways to practice," Bucky said. "My answer is still no."

"Seriously?" Chloe responded in surprise. "I can feel him, just lurking there. I know you want him gone. I can do it. It would just be like tearing off a hangnail."

"Except it's my brain, not my finger," Bucky reminded her. "No. It's not an emergency. I've been sharing my head with him for longer than you've been alive. I can manage."

"But you've only been the one in control for the past few years," she pointed out. He felt his patience run out abruptly and flare into anger.

"I am well aware of that. There were… outside influences at work before then," he snapped. She flinched, her happiness and pride popping like a balloon.

"Okay, okay, fine," she capitulated. "I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again." Looking like she might cry, she gripped her tray and stood up.

"You don't have to leave," Bucky protested. Chloe ignored him and moved to one of the chairs, sitting with her back to him and putting her tray on her lap. He sighed and decided to give her space. He heard a sniffle from her every now and then but resisted the urge to try and go comfort her. The last thing she needed was to become a target because Bucky was sitting next to her when Tony decided to launch an attack. He finished his breakfast and put the tray away. Chloe was still sitting in the chair with her tray in her lap, tears streaming down her face as she stared at the television. "Look, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," he began, standing a safe distance away but close enough that he didn't need to raise his voice. "It's not that I don't believe in your powers. I'm just not comfortable with anyone poking around in my head. Especially with so little experience." She sniffed, then nodded, but didn't look at him. Glancing nervously out of the windows, he went back to his room.

The afternoon group was a video on assertiveness and conflict resolution. It was something of a relief to be sitting in the dark, where eyes could not find him. Emerging from the dark room afterwards was like coming out of a cave, and the moment that his eyes took to adjust to the brighter light outside was disorienting. As they passed the nursing station, he noticed Jose in his wheelchair, sitting near the nursing station. He looked upset. Natalie was standing in the half-open doorway of the linen closet, and it looked like she was arguing with Jose about something. His face darkened, and he wheeled his wheelchair forcefully in her direction. With a yelp, she slipped into the linen closet and let the door close behind her with a bang. Jose reached the door a moment later and used the handle to pull himself shakily to unstable feet. He was a much taller man than was usually apparent in the wheelchair, his upper body well-muscled from pushing himself from place to place. Hanging onto the door frame with one hand, he pounded on the heavy wooden door with the other. From behind the desk, Marguerite was yelling at him to sit down and back off. Bucky quickened his pace.

"Jose, calmate. ¿Que pasa?" he asked as soon as he was within earshot. The Hispanic man half-turned towards him in a lurching motion, and for a moment Bucky was afraid he might fall over.

"She disrespected me," Jose declared in Spanish, gesturing angrily towards the door and punching the wood again.

"Natalie did? I'm sure she didn't mean to. Maybe it was a misunderstanding," Bucky reasoned, keeping his tone even and calm.

"No, she meant it. I just wanted a blanket!" Jose punctuated his sentences with a smash of his fist against the wood.

"Well, I don't think this is going to help you get a blanket," Bucky pointed out. "The blankets are in there. As long as you're pounding on the door, they're not going to open it to give you one." For the first time, Jose hesitated, his fist relaxing into an open hand. Bucky nodded encouragingly. "Now, let her out, and I promise I will help you get your blanket." Jose looked at him dubiously, wobbling slightly on his feet. Bucky grabbed the back of the wheelchair and held it steady. "Siéntate, por favor." Jose lowered himself awkwardly back in the chair, sitting down heavily. He lifted one hand and pointed a finger at Bucky.

"You promise?" he said in heavily accented, semi-garbled English. Bucky nodded. Jose sighed and pushed himself back from the door. Bucky pulled him back another step or two.

"You can come out now," Bucky called. "The door is clear." There was a pause, and then the door opened, and Natalie looked out nervously. She eyed Bucky, who still had a firm grip on Jose's chair, and slowly stepped all the way out of the tiny linen room. Her eyes flickered from Jose to Bucky and back again. Bucky glanced over his shoulder and noticed there were more staff than usual, including security guards. He hadn't even heard the code being called overhead. He looked back at Natalie. "Can he have a blanket?" he asked apologetically. Natalie held a blanket up.

"He can. I was trying to tell him he needs to keep it in his room. He can't have it in the dayroom. But I think maybe it would be a good idea for him to take some time in his room to settle down," she said. Bucky nodded and translated for Jose, who shrugged and nodded.

"I just wanted to take a nap anyway," Jose grumbled. Natalie handed over the blanket, and the man put it in his lap, then wheeled his chair towards his room. Bucky let out a long breath as the tension in the air diffused. Slowly, the crowd dispersed. Natalie sidled closer to Bucky, still looking shaken.

"I didn't know you could speak Spanish," she noted in surprise. "I thought you just spoke English and Russian." Bucky shrugged.

"I speak a few languages," he confirmed. Her eyebrows rose, and she looked vaguely impressed.

"Which ones?" she asked. Bucky took a step back and leaned on the nursing station, his eyes flickering upwards at the ceiling as he tried to remember all of them.

"Russian, German, Romanian, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, French, Dutch, Czech, Vietnamese, Japanese, Indonesian, Korean, Mandarin, Amharic, Arabic, Urdu, and Farsi," he listed, ticking them off on his fingers, then shrugged. "More fluent in some, but it's been a long time since I used a lot of it." If she had looked impressed before, she looked completely flabbergasted now.

"I… haven't even heard of some of those," she admitted, eyes widening in awe. "You're like a walking Babel fish." Bucky frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side. Nineteen languages, and he still didn't recognize the term she used.

"A what, now?" he queried. She chuckled.

"Never mind. It does seem like a very useful skill to have," she noted. Bucky shrugged.

"It comes in handy sometimes," he conceded.

"Like just now," she replied pointedly. "Thank you. I think that could have had a very different outcome if you hadn't stepped in."

"Glad to be of service, ma'am," Bucky drawled, tipping an imaginary hat in her direction. She laughed, shaking her head as she went back behind the nurses station. He headed into the dayroom and found Chloe sitting in one of the chairs with her knees pulled into her chest, staring at the television. He sat down a couple chairs away. He thought he saw her glance in his direction, but she didn't say anything.

"Still not speaking to me?" he asked, keeping his tone light. Chloe sighed.

"No. I'm not going to be like that." She let her head lean back on the seat and slowly turned it towards Bucky. "It's possible I may have overreacted slightly." Bucky raised an eyebrow at her but didn't comment further. She frowned slightly, looking down at the carpet. "I guess I have this idea in my head of who I'm going to be, what I'm going to do now that I realize I have powers and not an illness. Or powers in addition to my mental illness, at least. And I really wanted to try to help you, since it was you that helped me realize that. So you turning me down felt like a major setback. But I think my head might have exaggerated that, just a little bit."

"Maybe a little," Bucky agreed. He shifted in his chair. "You know, most people have to practice a lot when they learn a new skill before they master it. I know you're excited about what you can do, but you have plenty of time to figure it out." Chloe nodded slowly.

"You're right," she acknowledged. She fell silent for a long moment, staring thoughtfully off into space. "Do you think there's anyone out there like me? That could maybe teach me?" Bucky thought about all the wild things that he'd seen, that Steve had told him about.

"It's definitely possible," he assured her.

"Bucky, you have a visitor." Bucky looked up in surprise from his desk, where he was writing in his journal.

"Who is it?" he asked warily. Katie's expression was slightly dazzled.

"I think it's Tony Stark," she informed him, wide-eyed. "I recognized him from the TV." She shook her head. "You have all kinds of famous friends, don't you?" Bucky set his pen down.

"Something like that." He stood up, debating what the best course of action would be. If he refused to see Tony, would the man just leave? Or would he hunt him down in his room, or attack from outside the window? He almost preferred the confrontation to the uncertainty. Not to mention, he still had to answer for what he did to Steve. "He's in the visiting room?" She nodded. "Okay. I'll be there in a minute." She nodded again and left. He paused with his hand on the door handle, weighing his options. Then he stepped resolutely out of his room. He made one stop on his way to the visiting room, pausing by the phone and dialing a number.

"Hello?" a feminine voice answered.

"He's here, in the visiting room," Bucky replied. There was no time for introductions or niceties. "I'll try to stall him as long as I can. I don't know how long that will be." He hung up the phone, ignoring the faint "Bucky, wait!" that sounded from the receiver. The hallway leading to the visiting room seemed to stretch out ahead of him, but he was at the door before he knew it. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside, unarmed and vulnerable.

A man with dark hair, mustache and goatee turned to face him, eyes blazing. It wasn't hard to see Howard in his ruggedly handsome features, but the bruises and swelling disguised it somewhat. His fight with Steve hadn't been completely one-sided. He stepped towards Bucky, who noted a slight limp, and the way he held his right arm against his body suggested either fractures or dislocations. A wave of stale whiskey rose from him and slammed Bucky in the face, causing him to reconsider whether he had a leg injury or was simply drunk.

"Do you know who I am?" Tony demanded.

"You're Tony Stark," Bucky answered warily. "The one who put Steve in the hospital." First confusion, then relief rippled across Tony's face, which quickly darkened in rage once more.

"Good, then I don't need to do the Inigo Montoya bit," he half-mumbled, raising one hand towards Bucky. Bucky shifted his stance slightly, positioning his left shoulder closest to his would-be assailant. He wasn't about to lay any wagers on how well his arm might hold up against a Stark weapon, but it was the best chance he had.

"How did you get in here?" Bucky asked. "I was told my visitors had to be approved by committee." Tony's hand wavered and dropped a little. He smirked at Bucky.

"Who do you think is on the committee? I had my name put on the list right away, just in case." He frowned and raised his hand again. "Don't change the subject. This isn't about me, it's about you. You murdered my mom. And my father." Bucky bowed his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the staff peek through the window into the visiting room. It wasn't immediately obvious that Tony was threatening him, as he appeared to be unarmed. Now there would be fifteen minutes before anyone came to check on him again. He hoped they wouldn't be coming to find his corpse. "Do you deny it?" Tony challenged. Bucky shook his head.

"No," he said softly. "I am directly responsible for the deaths of many mothers and fathers, many sons and daughters." He had thought it many times in the dark recesses of his mind, but this was the first time he had said it out loud. It hung heavy in the air over their heads. Tony blinked at him, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with that confession. Then he shrugged.

"So we're in agreement, then," he said amicably, as if they had been discussing a place to grab lunch. "You deserve this." He raised his left hand again, palm towards Bucky, and a sleeve of armor suddenly formed over his arm. At the center of the metal gauntlet covering his hand, a bright circle began to grow in intensity, glowing too brilliantly to look at directly, accompanied by a high-pitched whine. Bucky braced himself, preparing to duck or throw a chair. It would ultimately be futile, but he was just playing for time. He glanced out the window behind Tony quickly, but saw no movement to give him hope. The high-pitched buzz shifted in key, and Tony lowered his hand abruptly. Bucky's foot exploded in white-hot agony, and he dropped down to his knees. Tony leveled his glowing weapon at Bucky's forehead. "I want to hear you beg. Like you made them beg." There was something not-quite-sane lurking behind Tony's eyes. Bucky had no intention of begging. At the very least, he would die with dignity.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Tony?" he asked through teeth clenched against the pain. "They won't let you just walk out of here after this. You have too many witnesses."

"Maybe I won't be walking out," Tony hedged, his hand still hovering inches away from Bucky's head. "But what's that to you? Just another dead Stark."

"You don't need to do that," Bucky protested. "Nobody needs to die here today."

"That wasn't quite the tone I was hoping for with the begging," Tony noted. "You didn't even say please."

"I'm not going to beg," Bucky said flatly. "You came to be judge, jury and executioner. If you're going to kill me, kill me."

""Well, actually, you've already confessed. So I'm just executioner. Any last words?" Tony taunted. Bucky swallowed hard. He looked up at the man who had murder in his eyes.

"Yes. I just want you to know how much respect I had for your father." Tony made a disbelieving snort and rolled his eyes. "He was an idol of mine when I was young, and later a friend and a comrade in arms." Another derisive noise, but at least Tony hadn't shot him yet. Bucky took a deep breath, licked his lips with a tongue dry as a desert, and continued. "When the Winter Soldier went after your parents, I was just along for the ride. The passenger, not the driver. Sometimes, I was aware enough to know what was going on, but powerless to do anything about it. When I saw what the mission was, who the target was…" He shook his head. "I would have given anything to stop it." His voice shook. "But no matter how much I wanted to save them, all I could do was watch." Tony was staring down at him, his face an unreadable mixture of emotion. Bucky looked up at him, trying to gauge what impact, if any, his words were having. Tony's mouth pressed into a thin line.

"I don't care. You killed my mom." The now-familiar shift in pitch filled the room. Bucky drove his left arm upwards, catching Tony's armored arm and pushing it upwards, away from his head. The wall behind him exploded outward, the edges of the hole smoking slightly. Tony growled and strained against him, the armor covering his arm suddenly extending over his chest and back, down the other arm and creeping towards his waist. He brought his other arm up and aimed for Bucky's midsection. Bucky twisted away, grabbing for Tony's other wrist and trying to keep the repulsor pointed away from him. His muscles screamed with the effort. Tony might not be stronger than him, but the suit certainly was. He could not hold Tony off forever.

The glass in the visiting room windows behind Tony suddenly shattered. Tony half-turned, startled, and Bucky took advantage of his distraction to launch himself at his would-be killer. He hit him full-force, taking him down to the floor, and pinned Tony's arms to the carpet, weapon-side down. He looked up to see a huge green giant peering through the shattered window. A moment later, Natasha and a winged man he recognized from the fight in Berlin both sailed through the now-open windowpane. More hands joined his in holding Tony down, and Bucky scrambled backwards just as the visiting room door opened and three security guards burst in.

As the adrenaline ebbed away, his foot was throbbing in earnest. Bucky sat in the chair in the wrecked visiting room, blood soaking through the bandage around his foot. On the opposite side of the room, Tony sat with his hands cuffed behind his back and eyes focused on the floor, a grim-faced Natasha and Falcon standing guard to make sure he didn't get away from them again. Hulk was still waiting outside, large green fists gripping the windowsill and blocking that avenue of escape. Aside from the Avengers and the security still present, the building supervisor, Hannah and a tall, dark man with one eye hidden behind a patch filled the room. It was considerably more crowded than Bucky was comfortable with. The man with the eye patch seemed very familiar. Bucky suddenly recognized him with a lurch of his stomach. He had been a past target, on what Bucky had been told was a successful mission. He shook hands with the building supervisor.

"Name's Nick Fury," he introduced himself. "I just want to thank you for your assistance tonight." The sweep of his arm included Bucky. "In particular, I want to commend Mr. Barnes for his quick thinking and courage that assisted us in apprehending a dangerous criminal." He gestured over at Tony. The sudden reversal made Bucky a little dizzy. "Mr. Barnes, when you get out of this place… here's my card." Bucky reached out and took it hesitantly.

"Thanks," he said shakily. "Ah, my apologies for D.C." One corner of Nick Fury's mouth twitched upwards slightly.

"Let's not get mired down in the past," he suggested.

Thanks to karina001, DarylDixon'sLover, Brendan Wolff, MewWinx96, CTpoetgirl63, Qweb and two lovely guests for your thoughts and feedback! Reviews are fuel for my soul - and sometimes can even influence the story, as well! Always lovely to hear your thoughts. I hope you enjoyed this latest installment!