Content warning: physical violence, mentions of blood, injury and recovery, a touch of smut.
Three months earlier...
Since connecting with his baby brother, Bucky had done his very best to stay connected. At least two Sundays a month, if he wasn't off the grid on a mission, he would make the drive down into New Jersey to visit George Barnes Jr. at the Millville Assisted Living Center.
Bucky had developed a kind rapport with George's whole family, often spending the entire day and dinner with them before driving back to Brooklyn. Sometimes Steve and Avery joined him, too, because they knew how special it was that Bucky maintained this relationship. Knowing his family was a privilege and he didn't want to take it for granted.
George Barnes Jr. was a wise man who, even in his 100th year of life, managed to always provide witty responses and tease Bucky when he lost another game of backgammon. Though his memory certainly wasn't as strong and detailed as it once was, George told his brother every single story he could remember about his childhood and their family growing up. There was something especially touching about the relationship they built.
It wasn't uncommon for Bucky to cry on his drives back home. He cried for the life he lost and the people he loved - the ones he didn't get to say goodbye to. There was an everlasting ache that lived in him when he thought about his parents and his sisters. But, Lord, was he grateful to have his brother in his life, at least.
It was a busy Tuesday morning in September when it happened. It was early and Steve was busying around the kitchen, pouring out coffee for everyone before breakfast. Avery was bounding down the stairs after her shower, going on and on about how Rocky had chewed up a pair of her favourite flats and that she was going to be late getting to the lab.
Meanwhile, Bucky had wandered onto the back deck and took a phone call from an unfamiliar number with a New Jersey area code. It was George's grandson.
"You know, if you just put your shoes away in the front closet they wouldn't become chew toys for Rocky," Steve said, offering Avery a playful smirk as he filled up a travel mug for her.
Avery just groaned, leaning against the counter behind him. "Lesson learned, I guess." She crouched down, greeting Rocky himself as he approached after hearing his name. "Augh, I just can't be mad at his cute face."
Rocky hurried away from her when the sliding door opened, nudging past Bucky's knees to go out into the backyard. Bucky watched him go and slid the door closed, standing tentatively at the edge of the room. Steve placed his mug on the counter and narrowed his gaze at his boyfriend. Something was wrong. Bucky's shoulders were slumped as he shifted awkwardly on his feet.
Avery, who had returned to standing and was looking at Bucky with the same apprehensive gaze, took a few steps forward. "Buck?"
Bucky raised his right hand and dragged it across his jaw, letting out all the air in his chest. "Uh, Georgie died.. In his sleep last night." Richard Barnes had used all the correct words and gave Bucky the exact details but he couldn't be bothered to repeat any of them, if that was even possible. "Funeral.. Friday.."
He didn't know when he started to cry and he also didn't know how Avery and Steve had wrapped themselves around him so quickly.
The time between that phone call and the funeral was a blur. Bucky, Steve and Avery drove down to Millville on Friday evening, crashing at a hotel for the night before heading to the Lutheran church in the middle of town. The family asked Bucky to be a pallbearer and despite his strength, the casket felt so heavy.
Bucky sat between Avery and Steve in one of the pews near the front, hands clasped together when they didn't need to be holding hymn books. George's eulogy was delivered by his eldest son - a beautiful summary of a life well lived. It started wholly with a detailed description of the Barnes family, painting the picture of a very happy, very full life they all enjoyed in their small Brooklyn home. When the ceremony was over, it felt like Bucky could finally let out a breath he had been holding for a long time.
During the small reception after the burial, Steve and Avery stayed close by but Bucky took the lead in talking to a few of the family members. It was difficult - despite having reconnected with the Barnes clan, Bucky was still on the outside. Not everyone knew him or understood him or how he was there now but he persevered nonetheless.
It was a stark reminder that he was the last one of his family. Of course, George having died didn't mean Bucky was rejected from the Barnes call list or email newsletter chain. It was likely they would still even invite him to holidays and events. But it felt like a part of his own heart died too - again. Bucky's life started a very long time ago and that a lot of people he loved were dead.
Dead and gone forever.
They were back home in Brooklyn by early evening. After changing from their funeral appropriate clothes to something more casual, they sat outside on the backyard patio. Bucky nursed a beer for the taste while Avery and Steve made some stilted smalltalk.
Avery had a hard time with these things still - the difficult emotional things. Even though she considered herself a great support to both her boyfriends, this was heavy and Bucky closed himself off a lot. She contemplated excusing herself and letting Steve and Bucky have time to talk alone. Sometimes that was how their relationship needed to work. But this time, it didn't feel like the right move. She owed it to Bucky to be there. She reached over and put her hand on his knee. "How're you doing?"
Bucky was staring down at the glass bottle in his hand, avoiding looking towards either of his partners. "Right now, I honestly don't feel nothin' much at all."
Steve leaned forward in his chair, fixing his gaze on Bucky. "George had a great life. I'm so glad you got to reconnect with him and I'm sure he was grateful, too, Buck."
Bucky just nodded, finally tipping his head up. There was a faint hint of a smile on his face, although it wasn't lost on Steve how empty his eyes looked. "Thanks for being there with me today." He stopped himself from saying anything more, though he wanted to just vomit out all the racing thoughts going through his head. It felt like something different - like in the very back recesses of his mind, a string was unravelling and if he just used his words, maybe it could be stopped. But instead, he closed his eyes and tried to take a few long meditative breaths.
Avery glanced from Bucky back to Steve, matching the concerned look on Steve's face.
"I'll talk to you when I'm ready." Bucky opened one of his eyes, as if he knew what they were thinking and feeling. "I'm okay."
Bucky kept repeating that to himself as they made their way inside and got ready for bed. It had been a long two days and they were all looking forward to a lazy Sunday together. Bucky brushed his teeth, staring at himself in the mirror much more purposefully than ever before.
He splashed himself with cold water, watching as the leftover droplets fell from his chin into the porcelain sink. I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay. I'm James Buchanan Barnes and I'm okay.
He opted to take the left side of bed, letting Avery have the middle with warm bodies sandwiching her. She was hesitant in her approach but eventually she cuddled up against Bucky, squeezing his torso and resting her head against his chest. The steady thumping of Bucky's heart paired with the comfort of Steve pressing against her back lulled her to sleep quickly.
Bucky though, his sleep did not come easily. Above him, the darkness loomed. He stared at the ceiling, into that darkness, for what felt like hours. Deep inside him, something was fighting. A quiet rage was blossoming, as if it was a virus spreading through his body.
I'm James Buchanan Barnes and I'm okay.
No, it frightened him. He remained in control, practicing breathing exercises and sending thought patterns into motion. But that monster inside seemed to win and the moment he finally fell asleep, eyelids too heavy to keep fighting, things barreled into unknown territory.
I'm James Buchanan Barnes and I'm not okay.
Shuri always made it clear that all she could do was help rewire the parts of his brain that were connected to those signals and trigger words. She didn't have the capacity to heal his trauma or remove his bad memories, especially those hidden away. It was up to Bucky to work on that and damnit, he was always trying. But the nightmares still came without warning at times and this night was no different. Though Bucky walked a thin line between bad dream and night terror.
A cold, cold cell. The painful, confusing feeling of being thawed out like a piece of meat. Each word spat to him like an electric shock. He was ready once more.
Avery woke up first, startled out of her sleep by the rapid increase of Bucky's breathing and the muttering of nonsense leaving his lips. She had talked him down from a nightmare before - with Steve's help she learned the best practices for working through the episodes. So when she caught those telltale signs, she followed through. Upon reflection, it might have been a good idea to wake up Steve right away.
A blurry, dark room. A threat or a target or a bystander. No. No witnesses. Finish. Complete the mission. You are alone. You work alone. You are alone. Alone.
"Bucky? You're having a nightmare," she started, speaking in a slow and steady tone. She pushed herself up to sit on her knees at his side, squinting to watch him through the darkness. His entire body seemed to be tensed up, like he was fighting off the waves of fear inside. "Bucky." She repeated his name louder this time and she could hear Steve stirring behind her, too.
No witnesses. You know the rules. Soldier. Soldat. Complete the mission. No witnesses.
Slowly, Avery reached her hand over to press onto his bare chest. It was a move Steve had developed with Bucky before, adding a weight of pressure to help calm him down. It didn't have a perfect success rate. And this time, it definitely didn't work. The second she applied her other hand down onto his chest just the same, he sat up in a flash. His eyes were wide open, chin tipped downwards in the darkness.
"Buck?" Avery called for him once more, taking in a sharp breath when she heard him muttering in another language. Russian? It was steady, like a mantra.
"YA ne podvedu."
She tried once more. "Bucky, you're in our home in bed with me and Steve. We're in Brooklyn. It's September. It's just us. You're safe. You're safe."
Behind her, Steve was waking up and taking in the scene. He moved slowly to turn on the lamp that sat on his side of the bed but the sensory change caused an angry growl to escape Bucky's lips.
Avery turned her head to look at Steve, eyes blown wide with confusion and worry.
"Don't touch h—
Danger. Alone. Alone. Soldat. No witnesses. Alone.
"Zavershite missiyu."
Avery didn't even get a chance to scream before Bucky's metal hand was at her throat. He quickly pulled her off the bed, his feet heavy underneath him. She desperately tried to peel his fingers away from her neck, but he overpowered her still. He pressed her up against the wall, just high enough that her toes barely skimmed the wooden floors.
This version of Bucky - a ghost of who he used to be coming back to the surface - was far, far away. His face was empty, displaying nothing as he pushed his palm against Avery's windpipe.
"Bucky!" Steve latched onto his shoulders and pulled him away, breaking his focus enough for Bucky to release his left hand. Avery collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
Soldat. Two witnesses. No. Alone. Finish.
Meanwhile Bucky turned his attention to Steve, moving in strategic steps in front of the bed. From her spot on the ground, Avery could see them engaging in some hand to hand combat all the while Steve was pleading for him to stop.
"Bucky, please! This isn't you. You're safe. This is not a mission. It's me, Buck. It's just Steve. You are James Buchanan Barn-
When Avery pulled herself up to stand, she saw that Bucky had narrowed him into the corner of their room. His foreign mumbling was growing louder and louder with each fist thrown. Steve was holding his own, of course. But to Avery, that didn't make it any easier to watch.
When Bucky landed a punch to Steve's jaw then two against his chest, causing Steve to collapse against the wall, she didn't stop herself from leaping onto Bucky's back.
"Bucky!"
"Avery, don't!" Steve stood again and tried to intervene, but Bucky was quicker.
Attacking him from behind was a bad idea and that was clear the moment Bucky used his momentum to throw her off his back. Avery was strong but she was still much smaller than him. He threw her like a rag doll, sending her back towards the other side of the room and directly into the exposed brick wall beside their bed. The sound of a body hitting a wall was unusual - a strange, dull thud echoed out when she hit the floor. Bucky stalked after her, flipping her onto her back and dropping to straddle her as she writhed in pain in the floor. He raised his right hand in a fist as he looked down at her.
She looked up at him through gritted teeth, trying to use her functioning arm to push him away. Again, her increased strength wasn't a match for him. "Bucky, this isn't you. Please don't—
The next thing Avery remembered was being carried by Steve out the front door. There was pain radiating through her, especially her right arm, and was that blood in her mouth? She took a deep breath but all she could taste was copper. She coughed hard, as blood flew from her lips. There was a folded up towel on her chest, already stained dark red.
"You've gotta stay awake, Ave - can you do that?" Steve's voice was the picture of calm panic, cell phone up to his ear as he hurried towards the Jeep. He threw open the passenger door and gently laid her against the seat. "Open your eyes for me, sweetheart. Please." He grabbed the towel and held it against her nose.
Ah, the source of the blood and pain. She slowly raised her left hand to take over holding it there, as Steve gently instructed her.
"Steve - what's going on? You do realize it's two in the morning, right?" Sam's voice came through the audio system in the vehicle as they started to drive.
"It's Bucky," Steve started, glancing from the road back towards Avery. "He had a really bad episode.. I need to take Avery to the hospital."
"Oh shit, shit. Okay. What do you need?"
"Can you go to the house and check on him?" Steve paused, looking back to Avery and letting out a quiet sigh. "I threw him against that brand new wall you helped me patch a few weeks ago and it seemed to keep him down."
"I'm on my way now."
Avery didn't even know if she was crying. The entire situation felt like an out of body experience. Steve was trying to speak warmly and positively to her as they pulled up to the hospital but she didn't know how to respond.
"Steve," she said quietly as they parked. "We have to tell them I fell down the stairs or something. It's.. it's not his fault."
Steve swallowed hard as he unbuckled his seat belt, rushing over to the other side of the car. He had been having the same debate in his mind. If they were going to see a doctor they knew and trusted, sure, they could easily explain Bucky's actions. But this was out of the ordinary.
Broken nose, bruised neck, bruised ribs, shattered elbow.
The hospital staff seemed to believe Steve's explanation of Avery sleepwalking and falling down the stairs. Or if they didn't, they kept it to themselves. A tired doctor reset Avery's nose, gave her a heavy painkiller prescription and scheduled a tentative surgery date for her broken elbow.
When they finally got back to the house a few hours later, Avery was pretty out of it. Steve was grateful, in a sense, that she was so tired - because he wasn't sure what to expect when they got home. The adrenaline of the events had finally dissipated and a reality needed to be faced: something triggered that response in Bucky and they needed to figure out a way to repair from this. If that was even possible.
Sam was still at the house when they returned. He met Steve at the door, holding it open as he carried Avery back inside.
Sam gulped as he looked at her, still in Steve's arms. She had a splint on her nose, hardly masking the bruising and swelling that had taken over her face. Her right arm was in both a cast and a medical grade sling to keep it in place. Steve carefully laid her down on the couch, gently brushing the hair off her forehead as he pulled a blanket over her. He stood, eyes flicking around the space.
Sam was standing near the staircase with his arms over his chest.
"He left, didn't he?" Steve asked quietly, meeting Sam on the foyer. Aside from the patter of Rocky's feet as he walked towards Avery on the couch, the house was too quiet.
Sam nodded. "He was packing a bag when I got here. He wouldn't tell me where he was going. Just that he was sorry and.." He let out a long breath. "He didn't say when he'd be back. I assume he's turned off his phone."
Steve sighed, bringing a hand up to rub against the back of his neck.
"How are you holding up?" Sam asked next, looking his friend up and down. Steve let out a quiet laugh, gazing down at the dried blood on his shirt.
"I can't pretend to know how his brain works, Sam. I know he would never hurt Avery - every rational thought in my mind knows that. But when his fist hit her face, I thought he might kill her. And that is frightening."
Sam wasn't sure what to say. He had worked with Bucky all week and noticed some things were off - but he was dealing with the grief of his brother's death so Sam gave him some space. But it was clear this emotion triggered something in Bucky and it came to a head in an unfortunate way.
"Hey," Sam replied quietly. He extended his arms out and pulled Steve into a hug. "She's alive. He's alive. You're alive. Right now, that has to count for something."
Avery didn't go to her classes in person for a while. She had explained to her professors that she had suffered an injury but kept the details close to her chest. Luckily, most of her lectures were recorded and posted online anyway.
Losing the ability to use her right arm, though temporary, was the biggest problem. She would have been absolutely useless in the lab so she wound up just deferring her practical hours to her last semester instead. Between the online learning, recovery from surgery and rehabilitation to try and use her elbow properly again, she was so tired.
Bucky's prolonged absence wasn't helping much either.
It had been absolute radio silence ever since that night. Well, no. Avery had a feeling Steve was in touch with him in some capacity because he seemed more understanding of him being gone. Steve seemed to be carrying on, under the impression that this wouldn't last forever.
Avery, on the other hand, had a hard time. Most days when Steve left the house - to either go meet up with Sam at the VA or work on the renovations at the apartment building - she collapsed into their bed and cried. She would spend most of the day there with the curtains drawn, half-assing her schoolwork and staring at the wall. After a few sad brain days she would get a burst of energy to try and be better and do better and feel something other than the empty sadness inside her.
She knew Bucky didn't hurt her on purpose. The physical pain was not something she welcomed but she was recovering. It was Bucky abandoning them that hurt her the most. She just wanted to hear his voice. She wanted to tell him she understood and that she forgave him. For him to be struggling with grief and now wrestling with this guilt, she couldn't help but break into tears when she spent too much time thinking about it.
She just fucking missed him.
Avery made an incredibly conscious effort not to break down in front of Steve. When he asked her if she was okay or if she wanted to talk, she filled his curiosity with appropriate answers. She knew it wasn't the right thing to do - crying alone during the day and hiding her feelings away - but she understood Steve was in a very hard place about this, too. She didn't want to burden him with her sadness. Things came to a head one day, though. It had been over a month without Bucky and it was clearly wearing on them both.
Steve was a mess. Sam talked to him about it - thankfully. He was the only one he knew what really happened and why Bucky was suddenly MIA. Sam was the one who placated Everett Ross and Sharon Carter when they grew frustrated with his partner's absence. Sam was an emotional anchor for Steve and he was grateful.
"Wakanda, huh," Sam muttered out. They were in the middle of cleaning up after an art therapy session at the Brooklyn Veterans Affairs center. It had been something Sam suggested in passing, thinking Steve would be the perfect candidate to lead the weekly drop-in sessions. Sam attended often, either to help facilitate or even participate in the class. "He didn't explain why?"
"He's hardly communicated with me at all. His messages have been inconsistent and short. I only know he's there because T'Challa reached out to me directly."
Sam ran a wet rag over the paintbrushes, turning to lean against the sink and cross his arms. "The king is concerned?"
"A little confused as to why he showed up out of nowhere but he's very understanding. I asked him to update me as much as he can." Steve rinsed off his hands, tossing the last of his paper towel into the trash. "I know Bucky is feeling a lot of guilt and regret but it's really wearing on Avery. I don't think she'll be able to move on from this without him."
"Steve." Sam turned towards his friend and narrowed his eyes slightly. "You're not unscathed from this either. Avery may have physical injuries but you can't just pretend you're not hurting."
Try as he may to be a regular civilian, Sam had a penchant for transforming back into his amateur therapist mode. The situation his friends were in was very tricky. Three different personalities building up walls for the sake of the others was leading to a lot of miscommunication and hurt. He saw it unfolding differently in each of them - Bucky disappeared, Avery boiled over and Steve tried to keep the peace.
Right now, Sam saw the worst of it in Steve. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than before, an unignorable sign that he was wearing himself out.
"I said something stupid to her last night." Steve closed his eyes. "Really stupid. Like, 'she should have just kicked me out after I said it' stupid." When he looked up, he avoided Sam's eyes, instead gazing out into the now empty activity room. Across the room, some old fashioned war resolution poster was peeling off the wall.
Sam pursed his lips. "Maybe instead of being reactive, you and Avery should have an actual honest conversation. And bring home some goddamn flowers for her. Jesus."
Steve huffed. He knew Sam was right. It was much easier to keep his emotions at an arm's length. Helping Avery recover was more important. Giving Bucky time and distance was more important. So what if the aching feeling was growing in his heart as each day went by?
When he got home (with a bouquet of fresh flowers), he was greeted by an excited pup but there was no sign of Avery downstairs. He wasn't surprised - she was probably still ignoring him. He deserved that.
"You shouldn't have intervened. I know you're strong but if you had just let me deal with it instead of jumping on his back, maybe -" Steve regretted the words once they left his mouth. Not only should they not have started this conversation at all but his delivery was very wrong. Especially as they were laying in bed.
Steve should not have escalated his thoughts and the way Avery looked at him from her side of the bed crushed him. Suddenly, she seemed very far away from him.
Not far enough that he couldn't sense her unease taking over, though. She stared straight ahead, her gaze looking towards nothing at all. "Right. If I hadn't woken him up from that nightmare or tried to stop him from attacking you, we'd be perfectly fine right now. You're right, Steve. You are so right. This is my fault and maybe there is a lesson to be learned."
"Avery, I didn't mean —
She finally blinked, her lips pressed into a hard line. "I think you should sleep downstairs."
Steve called her name and though he didn't get a response, he did hear a frustrated groan.
He found Avery on the top floor, in the hallway between their bedroom and the bathroom. She was half dressed, cursing about her arm as she tried to remove her sling. A small sympathetic frown grew on Steve's face as he approached her. Her discarded jeans were in a pile a few feet away but she was clearly struggling with her sweater.
"Hey," he said quietly, though she turned to look at him. "Can I help?"
She stilled, dropping her left hand in defeat and turning towards him. She had struggled a lot getting dressed that morning and though she didn't want to give in to him, she worried she'd bend her arm wrong and have to deal with that pain instead. So, she swallowed her pride.
Steve was slow and gentle as he approached, reaching to unclasp the back of the sling. His hands were warm as they brushed across her neck. Carefully, he adjusted her right arm and freed it from the contraption. She squeaked out a quiet thank you but kept her eyes looking anywhere but him.
"I was just gonna jump in the shower," she said, even quieter. She reached for his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before heading towards the bathroom. He stayed put, watching her walk away.
Once he heard her sweater hit the ground and the shower start, his feet kicked into action and followed her path. He pulled off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and shimmied out of his jeans and boxers. When he made it to the fogged up glass door, he had a moment of hesitation. Maybe this was the wrong move.
Then the door pushed open in front of him.
It had been a very long time since there had been any intimacy besides holding each other at night. Part of that came from the lingering absence of their boyfriend and the other due to Avery recovering from her injuries. But it seemed now, in the safe space of their steamy shower, a decision had been made.
"We can't fight," Avery whimpered out as Steve held her, pressing kisses along her jaw and neck. "We can't Stevie." She wasn't sure if he was listening but when he stilled, moving his hands up from her backside to cradle her face, she realized his face wasn't just wet from the shower.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." With closed eyes he met her lips, kissing her like he was making up for lost time. He felt so hungry all of a sudden. "I don't want to hurt you."
Avery wasn't sure exactly what he meant - hurt her when they fought, hurt her now if they were going to have sex in the shower, or maybe physically, like Bucky did.
She didn't care though. "I'm okay. It's okay."
Her lips connected with his again. Matching his pose, she brought her hands up to cradle his face instead. Her thumbs brushed under his eyes and he leaned his left cheek into her touch. It didn't take long for their hands to roam again and it took even less time for Steve to growl in her ear and lift her up.
Steve pressed her against the tiled wall of the shower, keeping his lips connected with hers. She kept her left hand wrapped around his neck, holding his hair in her fist.
"Avery, baby.." Steve's voice was low in her ear.
She swallowed hard, pushing back the immediate reminder of Bucky. That was usually his choice pet name for her, especially in these vulnerable moments. "Stevie, please. Need you.."
He held her still and adjusted his position to line up against her. Slowly he helped her sink down onto him. She bit against his shoulder, her whimpers growing louder and louder as he moved with her.
"I'm right here, I'm all yours." He kissed down her neck and across her shoulders, careful not to put too much weight onto her. "I'll always be here. I promise."
Avery didn't even realize she was crying into his shoulder now.
Wasn't Bucky supposed to be there, too? Weren't they all supposed to be there for each other? She pushed all of that away, instead focusing on that exact moment. Steve. Shower. A coil building in her.
Steve pulled away slightly so he could guide her hand to the spot between her legs. "Let go, sweetheart. I want to feel you..."
She did want to let go. She did. So, she circled her fingers, showered in the warm water and Steve's praise. It had been so long - too long - since she had felt like this: whole, worthy, loved.
"I love you, Steve." She collapsed into him as she climaxed, legs shaking then tightening around his back. It didn't take him long to follow, catching their breath together as the water enveloped them.
Later, they were redressed and laying on the couch together. Steve leaned back as Avery stretched out over him, happily accepting soft circles drawn against her shoulders.
"I'm sorry.. for what I said last night." Steve pressed a kiss to her forehead. "That came from a very confused, stupid place. I just keep thinking about that night and what I could have done differently. You are not to blame."
"Neither are you," she answered quickly. "But neither is Bucky…" Avery took a deep breath, burying herself further against his chest. "Why hasn't he called, Steve?" She tried to hide the tears but this time, it was like a dam breaking. "Doesn't he want to know if I'm okay?" Steve didn't have an answer for her. He wished he did. Instead of saying anything, he ignored the shattering of his heart and he just let her cry and cry and cry.
Avery had nothing to gain from lying to her therapist but that didn't seem to stop her from trying. Mickey Cho had called in a few favours to get her a referral to a specialist and by her fourth session, it was clear Dr. King was able to read her body language.
"You know, Avery." Dr. King - or Evelyn, she insisted - twirled the pen that rested between her fingers, pointing it towards Avery. "I assume if you're lying to me about how you're feeling, you're lying to yourself and perhaps to your partner, too."
"I'm not lying," Avery answered quickly, too quickly. "I really am feeling a lot better. I'm finally going back to all my classes in person and I've figured out everything for next semester. My thesis is actually possible so I'm not stressed over that anymore."
"Avery, I am not your high school guidance counselor," Evelyn continued, placating her with a soft smile. "I'm glad your school things are being sorted out but we both know that isn't what I was asking about. How are you?"
Instead of answering too quickly again, Avery chewed on her lip. Evelyn was a lot less charming than her last therapist and at first it was something Avery appreciated. But now, the tough love act was really grinding on her nerves. She glanced out towards the window - it was a crisp fall day and the view from Evelyn's office offered a sprawling look into Bryant park.
"Your injury happened nearly two months ago now - how is your physical therapy going?"
Injury. Accident. The Incident.
Avery turned her head back towards Evelyn and raised up her right arm. "Better. I only have to wear the sling occasionally now." She closed her eyes briefly and let out a long exhale. "I'm worried about Steve." She hated how the mention of his name seemed to spark a weird sense of relief or satisfaction in Evelyn. Avery knew she couldn't avoid this topic much longer.
"What are you worried about?"
One of the main reasons Avery had pushed back on the idea of going to therapy this time around was because she had been full of nerves about explaining their relationship. The fact that their triad was seen as very non-traditional truly didn't bother Steve or Avery or Bucky. But when there was someone on the outside skeptical about it, they were reminded why they kept it so close to their chests.
Evelyn had been very quick to explain that she had done counselling for all types of relationships before. So when Avery talked about each of her boyfriends, it was less and less nerve wracking to bring up with the doctor. But, she was still hesitant.
"Bucky has been gone for almost two months." Avery twisted her fingers together in her lap as she spoke. "Me and Steve.. Well, we're trying to stay honest with each other. But there's something else there. I feel like he's keeping something from me, and maybe it's for my own sake, but without knowing, I've just been spiralling."
"What is it you're worried about? When your brain races through those worst case scenarios - what is it that's at the front of your mind?"
"What if Bucky doesn't come back? Steve and Bucky have a much longer, more complicated history than anything I have with either of them. I see it wearing Steve down and I just don't know what to do about it. All he can do is focus on helping me and I don't know how to help him. And that doesn't seem like a fair and balanced relationship, now does it?"
"Well, you know your fair and balanced relationship was thrown off when Bucky left. I know you are worried about Steve and you're worried about Bucky but I need you to be worried about Avery, too. We know you like to take care of the people you love - even if that comes at the expense of your own well being to spare their feelings. You've been focusing on getting your schooling back in order and rehabilitating your arm and thinking about Steve - but what about you?"
The truth was ignoring that question was the only thing quelling the uncertainty that had been swelling in the pit of Avery's stomach. If she focused too hard on herself, she was met with waves of anger and frustration and confusion and hurt. She was hurting without Bucky. She was hurting because of Bucky. The minute she let herself think about it for more than two beats, it felt like she was going to burst into flames.
Steve: how did your midterm go?
Avery: poorly :(
Avery: if my average dips even two degrees lower, I could lose my partial scholarship
Steve: sorry sweetheart. Would it help if I brought home dinner from Lua
Avery: omg yes
Avery: well, it won't help my grades but it will help my mood!
Steve: extra summer rolls?
Avery: do you even have to ask?
Steve once again found Avery upstairs when he came home. Actually, he found Avery, Rocky and Alpine all in the master bathroom.
The cat was playing with something inside the empty bathtub while Rocky was laying near the doorway, face pointed upwards at Steve as he walked into the room. After crouching to say hello to the pup, he stood and watched as Avery was tearing through the cupboard below the sink. Even in a pair of leggings and some old t-shirt, with only one arm really fitting into it while the other rested in the sling, Steve found Avery effortlessly inviting.
The last few weeks had been especially important for both of them - they had reached an unspoken understanding about support and honesty. Avery was crying less and opening up more. Steve was asking better questions and trying to be more aware of both his own and Avery's emotions. The Incident seemed like it was far away finally - although that didn't mean it had gone away forever. For the first time, it seemed like Bucky wasn't the first thing each of them thought about in the morning. On the one hand, that was worrisome. Steve didn't want that to be their new normal. Especially because Bucky would be home eventually.
(Right?)
On the other hand, it felt like their shoulders were a bit lighter.
"Here we go," she called out, grabbing a plastic tub of something. She dropped it down on the counter and turned to finally greet Steve, taking a step towards him to accept his embrace. "Hi."
Steve pressed a kiss to the top of her head and looked towards the sink. "What did you find?"
"In an attempt to not manically check my grades all weekend, I wanted to try out this concept Evelyn keeps suggesting to me - called self-care?" Avery smirked as she pulled away, running her left hand through her hair to brush it to one side. Of course her therapist had given her homework that week - taking some extra time for herself. Avery did feel like it had been a long time since she had tried such a thing.
"So I was going to do a facemask." She grabbed the container and glanced from it back to Steve, who was looking at her with raised eyebrows. "Wanna join me?"
He huffed out a playful laugh before realizing she was being serious. "Really?"
Raising herself onto her tiptoes, she scanned over his face. "Your t-zone is a bit dry."
"My what?"
Following a lavender sugar scrub mask and a watermelon infused moisturizing treatment, with fresh faces and soft skin, they ate dinner and watched HGTV together in their bed. Steve had once been pretty adamant that their bedroom wasn't the place for food or a television, but those rules had quickly disappeared.
Laying in their big bed together, with Rocky laying at their feet and Alpine hiding among the pillows, Steve felt a steady sense of calm. Though as Avery doled out commentary about the bathroom renovation happening on Love It or List It, he couldn't shake the underlying unease in his heart. Yes, this night was everything he wanted in life: to have a home and a warm bed he could come home to. After a long day for each of them, the support and companionship they shared was more valuable than he cared to admit.
But he didn't have to say it out loud to know Avery would agree with him. Something was missing.
Someone was missing.
Bucky came home 72 days after The Incident.
Avery was so distracted by her school work and preparing for hosting Thanksgiving dinner with their family and friends that when she rushed through the door on the Wednesday before the holiday, she didn't even clue into the fact that there were two voices in the kitchen.
Since Sam had been visiting so often to help with the house, she assumed it was him talking to Steve. But when she made her way from the front door through to the kitchen, she did not anticipate seeing Bucky sitting at the kitchen island.
It looked perfectly normal. Why? After all this time, they were just sitting there and talking? Avery bit her tongue as they both turned and smiled at her.
Steve reached over and took the brown bag of groceries from her hands, pausing to press a kiss against her forehead. "Hey. Pizza is on the way."
That was it? No grand announcement that Bucky was back? No explanation or call to have a serious discussion between the three of them? The elephant in the room was just going to be completely brushed aside? Avery was very confused. Did she miss a call from Steve or something?
Her gaze followed Steve as he went back to his position near the sink. He was cutting up some potatoes and prepping some other food for dinner the next day.
Avery really didn't know what was going on. Did Steve know Bucky was coming back? He seemed so calm and natural. Were they supposed to just go back into a normal routine and life again after Bucky was gone for over two months?
Did she expect a reunion where Bucky would run into the house and scoop her into his arms? Did she want him to explain and apologize and beg for some forgiveness?
Bucky stood from his stool and opened his mouth to say something. Avery's eyes inspected him from head to toe: his hair was longer - though not like it had been before and he looks a few shades darker. He's thinner maybe, just by a bit. Otherwise, he looked the same. Just guarded, apprehensive. His eyes look very tired.
Avery took a step back. "I'm just gonna go shower.. change..." She paused before turning and called for Steve. He followed her towards the stairs. "Did I miss something?"
Steve sighed, reaching his arms out to steady her. He moved his hands up and down her shoulders. "I'm sorry - it all happened so quickly and I wasn't sure how to warn you."
Avery chewed on her lip. "I'm glad he's home but.." She trailed off. Was she ready for this? What happened now?
Steve leaned in and pulled her into a hug. "Just take your time. I really didn't mean for this to feel like an ambush."
She breathed him in. "I know, it's okay. We've gotta start somewhere." After another kiss, she went upstairs while Steve headed back towards the kitchen, resuming his food preparation. Admittedly, he was trying to just focus on something distracting.
"She's scared of me." Bucky's head shook when he sat again, collapsing his shoulders and leaning onto the island.
"Buck, she's not." Steve put down the utensil in his hand and reached to grab Bucky's shoulder. "You've been gone for a while. You can't expect her to just.." Steve wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. He met Bucky at the compound that afternoon and they had had a difficult conversation.
Steve pulled away from his embrace with Bucky, moving his hands to cradle his cheeks. "You're okay?" There were underlying questions behind those two words that Bucky was wrestling with figuring out. Is your mind okay? Is your heart okay?
Bucky nodded, trying to find a way to answer. He gripped the handle of his duffle bag, sending one last grateful nod towards Sam as he finished up deloading the jet. "Steve, I'm sorry."
Steve nodded, too. They headed from the hangar towards the garage, walking side by side in relative silence. The late November air was crisp and nipped bitterly against them. As they approached the Jeep, Bucky cleared his throat and spoke. "How is she?"
Steve, who had just opened the driver's side door, slammed it shut. He rounded the back of the vehicle and stopped in front of Bucky. "That question is two months late, Buck."
"I know, I -
"No, stop." Steve's jaw jerked from side to side as he tried to rationalize the wave of angry thoughts rushing through his mind. He had pictured this reunion and this conversation so many times but now that Bucky stood in front of him, he was struggling to pinpoint his exact frustrations. "This isn't easy. I am so relieved to just see you standing in front of me again but I'm mad, Bucky. You handled this the wrong way and I don't know how it's going to get better."
Bucky swallowed hard, dropping his bag to the ground. "I didn't have a choice, Steve. I remember what you said and you were right: I could have killed her that night and the only way to make sure it didn't happen again was to leave."
Steve huffed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Even if that is true, you didn't need to leave the continent. You didn't have to stay silent for weeks. You know I would have understood - if you had just explained it to me. And to Avery!"
The regret weighed heavily on Bucky. He shouldn't have left but the way his mind was spiralling after The Incident had scared him more than he was willing to admit. Once he had his bag packed, nothing anyone could say would have helped. He didn't know where he was going but he knew he had to get away from where he was going to hurt anyone. Especially the people he loved. He had hurried to the airport and planned to go far, ticket paid with cash to get him to Morocco.
From Marrakesh, he found himself on a train travelling east. Despite being in a more sound mind and body, the survival instincts coming forward were like second nature. He knew how to get from Point A to Point B undetected. After a few hot days of travel and reflection, he made it to Wakanda.
His arrival came as a surprise to T'Challa but he was welcomed in with open arms. Bucky insisted Shuri dig into his mind again. Something was still in there. Something was still wrong. He needed an answer, an explanation, anything. Shuri was apprehensive but agreeable.
"Stay. Down. You could have killed her!"
Bucky could hear Steve's hurried footsteps and Avery's whimpers. What had he done? He stayed flat on the ground. Being thrown into a wall at full force still hurt. When he finally pushed himself up, after Steve rushed down the stairs, he noticed the drips of blood. He looked at his hands. More blood. What had he done?
He spent his days in Wakanda like he had before: in solitude, mostly. He split his time between the palace and working in the fields again. Ayo hiked with him through the mountains. He checked in with Shuri, wondering if she had any news or some revelation about what happened with his mind. Inside her lab, he asked to learn. He had an idea he needed help with. It served as a nice distraction from what he had left behind at home.
Eventually, she asked him to go for a walk. It was one of the first times he had witnessed this version of the princess - she was quiet and reserved.
"I think you are looking for an answer you won't find here," Shuri started slowly, turning them towards a path that led down towards the water. It was nearly nightfall and the setting yellow sun cast a remarkable glow throughout the space. "Your brain is still healing. There are a lot of things science cannot explain when it comes to emotional response."
Bucky swallowed hard, hands tucked in his pockets.
"The fear in you cannot grow stronger than everything else. You've come so far but you are only human, James." Shuri reached over and patted his left arm. "You can overcome this but you can't do it here. You can't do it alone."
Bucky knew she was right. He couldn't run anymore. The missing pieces to all of this were back in Brooklyn: Steve and Avery.
With a renewed sense of clarity, Bucky asked T'Challa for transport into Europe. Particularly, he wanted to visit Romania before heading back stateside. Romania. His maternal grandmother's home country. Bucky wasn't sure what kind of answers he was looking for but something deep in his soul took him there. He spent a few days travelling around to try and seek some history about his mother's family that had immigrated from a small northern village.
After taking some time to grieve, Bucky called Sam and asked about coming home. Finally, he was reunited with Steve and Avery. He knew it was going to be an uphill battle to get back to normal again. Now, he was back in their home and uphill battle seemed like an understatement.
"She might just need some time to adjust. The last few months haven't been particularly easy." Steve continued on, bringing Bucky back to the present. "Considering we're about to host her family for Thanksgiving dinner, she's not going to approach this for a few days. It's not fair."
When the pizza arrived, Steve went to pay for the delivery as Bucky headed upstairs. He stopped one floor up, noticing the light was glowing in the office.
Both rooms at the back of the house had big, spacious glass windows with a view towards the backyard. In the office, they were crowded with spare books and Avery's plants. On the far wall, a large pair of wooden blocks acted as a big desk space they all shared. Above it was a blank wall, perfect for projecting movies when they wanted to crash on the big sectional across the room.
Bucky walked in slowly, staying near the door as he watched Avery sitting at her desk. She was leaning over her laptop, occasionally typing a few words. With one leg pulled up to her chest, she rested her chin on her knee. A sigh escaped her lips.
"Hey, the pizza is here," Bucky spoke cautiously as he crossed into the room.
Avery turned in the chair, pushing her damp hair over her shoulder. "Thanks." She noticed he didn't leave right away. Maybe he was waiting for her or trying to will himself to say something else. With another sigh, she stood.
Bucky scanned over her: big socks, leggings, one of Steve's knit sweaters hanging off of her shoulders. She looked okay. She looked more than okay, really. He narrowed his eyes, just briefly, to analyze her nose. It was barely noticeable but it had a small angle to it now. Healed and back to normal, but not quite the same as before. Because of him.
"Bucky." Avery dragged her hand down her face. "I'm really glad you're home." She took a few more steps towards him, extending her arms to hug him but he stepped back, raising up his hands.
"I can't.." He stopped himself, closing his eyes to avoid seeing her reaction.
Oh.
She swallowed hard. It felt like a brick hit her chest - the rejection. Months she waited just to touch him again and now he wouldn't even give her a hug. Instead of waiting for him to fumble anything else out of his mouth, she swept by him towards the staircase.
"Avery! Wait! Let me explain.." He turned and followed her, narrowly missing Rocky as he made it back to the main floor of the house.
She rushed into the kitchen, sitting down beside Steve at the table and throwing open one of the boxes of pizza. "Just so you know, we're hosting dinner here tomorrow." She offered Bucky a very insincere smile. "Sam and Kasey, my dad and Suzanne, Nash, Bea and Ray. So maybe we should get our backstory straight now?"
Bucky reluctantly sat across from them. He didn't move to grab a plate or any pizza.
Steve pursed his lips, glancing between them both. "Ave.."
She pointed at Bucky. "We told everyone who asked that you were on a special undercover mission for the last few months." She picked at the pizza on her plate. "So, I hope you can stick to that."
"Avery, I didn't mean to -
She scrunched her face up and let out an angry groan. "Since you didn't even bother talking to me after you left, I guess I should fill you in so we're all on the same page. My broken nose and shattered elbow came from a fall down the stairs. And since you haven't asked, I've mostly recovered now." The anger seething out of her was growing with each word that left her lips. She pushed herself up from the table and stomped towards the fridge. "I go to physical therapy twice a week and I have permanent screws in my elbow." She slammed the fridge door after grabbing a can of bubbly water, retrieved her plate and pizza from the table then walked back to the stairs. "I'm eating in the office. Alone."
December mostly felt like a blur. Bucky spent his time quietly getting used to the house again, though he favoured keeping to himself in the spare bedroom. Avery tried to pretend like this was still their normal life, especially as she stressed over her final exams, Christmas shopping and preparing for their visit home to Boston. Steve tried to stay neutral and calm, slowly trying to bring the other two together.
It wasn't going well.
The days between Christmas and New Years always felt so strange - like a waiting game for something else mixed in with guilt free relaxation. Avery was opting for the relaxing part while Steve and Bucky were in some sort of planning mode. After spending a very long week in Boston with Avery's family, going through the motions and trying to convince everyone things were normal in their relationship, she was looking forward to a day or two of nothing. Especially after their last night of the trip and how the drama with her little sister had escalated, Avery had earned some downtime.
She wrapped herself in a bundle of blankets, making it a goal to become one with the couch in the office. Ahead of her on the screen, she queued up Brooklyn 99 again. She supposed it said something about her anxiety that she only liked to rewatch shows where she knew what was going to happen.
Steve and Bucky, meanwhile, had gone down to the bottom floor. The garden level had been halfway converted into an apartment when they purchased the house and one of Steve's goals for spring was to finish up the project. Among everything else he was juggling.
Bucky was nodding along as Steve dictated out his renovation plans, pointing out where the kitchen counters should go and how to move a pipe for the shower and bathtub.
"Sounds like you've been spending a lot of time watching those shows about home renovating," Bucky said, dropping down onto a stray chair that was in the empty space.
Steve let out an awkward laugh. "Yeah, well, we've had a lot of downtime the last few months."
There had been a few weeks where Avery refused to leave the house. When her face was still healing and her arm wasn't mobile. When she was toeing the line between being a perfectly functioning human and developing agoraphobia entirely. They had streamed a lot of HGTV shows in that period especially, working together to fight through her anxiety.
Bucky felt his throat tighten. He flicked his eyes up to meet Steve's, who was watching him with crossed arms. "I'm sorry."
"Buck, you don't have to -
"I do. I have a lot of apologizing to do. I don't know where to start."
Steve sighed. "You don't have to start with me." It was what Steve didn't say that made the most impact: Bucky needed to talk to Avery. Instead of letting Bucky fill in the growing silence, Steve looked at his phone then tried to change the subject. "Hey - still okay with going to that party tomorrow night?"
Bucky forced a smirk. "Sure. You're not worried the Guardians are going to make a mess of the lofts?"
Steve shrugged. "They know better." He let out a long exhale. "It'll be nice to see everyone. Start off fresh for the new year."
Bucky nodded. "Fresh start sounds good."
"Hey." Steve walked over towards him, urging him to stand up before he enveloped Bucky into a hug. Steve cradled Bucky's head against his shoulder. "If I haven't said it yet, I'll say it again. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're home with us, Buck."
Bucky relaxed and breathed Steve in. It wasn't lost on him how hard Steve was trying here, how hard he was attempting to sew their relationship back together. God, how did they deserve Steve? Bucky owed it to both of his partners to try and help them all recover from this. Despite the raging doubts, the screaming uncertainties in his mind, he had to try. Even if he felt like a risk; like a danger to their whole, happy life.
Maybe it was finally time to face those doubts and uncertainties.
A/N: well, there we go folks. this fills in some blanks, answers some questions but opens up a lot more, I know. There is some rebuilding these three need to get through right now and it might not be very easy.
I can't thank you all enough for the warm reception to the first chapter! This second story plot has grown so much and it seriously means so much to me to have a dedicated audience. I love being a story teller and trying to interpret these characters - it's an intimidating challenge and having your support so far has been an incredible help. Creative writing has been my hobby since I was young and I love that it's carried me so far in life, even as a side project to my day to day life.
Thank you especially to those of you who reviewed the first chapter: SomebodyWhoCares, AndTheSaintsAreAllMadeOfGold, Katie MacAlpine, EirlysLavellan, Pipabnwr, and Winchestergurl4life! I so appreciate your thoughts!
Still here plugging my friend EirlysLavellan's story 'As The Sky May Fall' - because sometimes we are lucky to get *really good* stories for free and I won't shut up about this one.
As far as a posting schedule goes, I'm trying to shoot for once a week but given ~life, my real stretch goal is to not go two weeks between updates. As of right now, I'm on track for my first goal but that may falter along the way. I just like having the structure and goals but be patient with me!
Coming up: New Years day, hangovers and a look into Steve's secret investigation. And some of that 'raw, rip your heart out' honesty.