Conversation 7: Contribution
Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanov
Tony hadn't been out of the workshop in three days; not since the anxiety attack. The windows of the lab remained darkened though FRIDAY assured him that Tony was definitely inside and had snuck upstairs at least once for food. He could hear the worried edge to the AI's tone and it caused the nervous ball in the pit of his stomach to tighten. It was a voice to his right that startled Bucky out of the dark thoughts he'd been allowing himself to spiral through for the last hour. He hadn't even heard the elevator doors open.
"James." The feminine voice murmured; a hand cautiously touched his arm before quickly being removed. "Staring at the windows won't bring him out."
Not that Bucky had any doubt that Tony knew he'd been standing out here for a few hours each day. No doubt FRIDAY had informed him, repeatedly and Bucky had asked her to ask Tony for access only to be denied each time. According to Banner, this was how Tony dealt with his insecurities; by locking himself in the lab until he was comfortable enough to interact again. It was grating and Bucky did not like it in the least. How could he offer to help if the man would not listen?
"I don't like it." His voice was rough which revealed, rather than hiding, his tumultuous emotions to the spy. "I don't like not knowin' if he's okay."
Natasha gave slight shake of her head. "He isn't okay. That is why he's doing this." Her hand waved at the blacked out glass before she moved to lean against the wall beside him. "Tony withdraws when he isn't okay; instincts like an animal. He withdraws in to his burrow and hides until he is well again." Not that Natasha thought Tony was ever really well.
Bucky's head inclined in her direction to indicate that he was at least listening. He understood what she was saying but it didn't make him like it any better. That was okay, though, because he was slowly learning that it was okay to not like something, to disagree with others. Every day now there were small pieces of personality appearing and slowly he began to feel like a real person again. Maybe to someone outside of his head it sounded or looked strange, but Bucky felt more like himself than he had in quite some time.
It wasn't the same, of course; he would never be the Bucky Barnes that had fallen off of that train in the mountains. That man was dead and gone but some small part of him lingered in this new Bucky. He remembered being that man and remembered how that man had felt, but it was always at a distance; it was like viewing a movie. The times when his current feelings crossed with the feelings of his old self often gave him a jolt and sometimes those memories would suddenly be more colorful and real; more his and less old Bucky Barnes.
A frustrated growl escaped Bucky's lips; his arms folded more tightly about his chest. "Even more reason for me not ta like it." His chest heaved with an irritated sigh before he let his eyes close and tried to calm himself. "Don't call me a hypocrite." He could hear the faint chuckle from beside him.
"I never said you were, but…now that you mention it." Her head angled slightly so that she could get a better view of his profile. "Only difference is, you did it for months. He usually only does it for a few days at a time. And to be fair, you were sorting out…are sorting out…a lot more memories. He's just escaping." Her hands were held up in front of her to stop his protest. "I'm not criticizing."
He wanted to tell her that it sure as hell sounded like she had been but arguments were unproductive; Bucky had been learning that more speaking clearly and less arguing did more to get his point across. It would be nice to say that Steve was coming around, accepting it, but he had the strangest feeling that was going to boil over at some point. That was an argument no one was looking forward to and Bucky least of them all. He heaved another heavy sigh and freed one hand to rub it over his face from forehead to chin before leaning forward to let it rest on the back of his neck. The gesture was strangely comforting though Bucky couldn't fully remember why.
"I just don't like it." Is what comes out instead of an argument and Bucky can't explain it further than that. The feelings of protectiveness were nothing new; he remembered, however distantly, doing the same for Steve when he was younger. "I don't like not being able to help him."
"You are helping him. Tony is much…lighter since you and Bruce have started taking up space in his workshop and dragging him away from it. That doesn't mean that there aren't going to be bad days." He was pinned beneath that gaze now as she turned to put her shoulder against the wall, facing him rather than the glass. "You still have bad days. Everyone else is allowed to have bad days, too."
There was a faint grumble and it caused Natasha's lips to tilt upward. She was definitely getting through to him even if Bucky didn't want to hear what she was saying. Everyone had bad days; she had bad days. It was the nature of who they were and what they'd been, what they were. Natasha would be lying if she said that what happened in New York, in Sokovia, during their fight, hadn't affected her. She woke with her own nightmares, with her own worries and concerns. It was easier for her to push them aside, to pretend they didn't bother her, but that didn't mean the thoughts weren't there.
"Tony is…sensitive about appearing weak in front of others, even those he trusts." Her eyes were on him still, watching, taking in each tic and tell. "And let's be honest, James, we all know that he doesn't trust most of us. He's gracious, forgiving to a fault, but every single person here has betrayed him at some point except Pepper, Bruce and arguably, you. Rhodes may have betrayed him by taking the armor but Tony justifies it, given what was going on at the time." She let that sink in a moment. "Why do you think Wanda stays at the compound and not here? Notice she doesn't have a floor built or even a room here."
And who could blame Tony for feeling that way, all things considered. Vision also chose to stay at the compound but that had less, Natasha thought, to do with Wanda and more with being among the other Avengers. The New Avengers, as they were. While Tony was part of team, it was more on a consulting basis; the same went for Natasha, Clint and the others staying here. Even Steve was taking time off to spend with Bucky, though he did take missions when asked. She could see him chomping at the bit to be back in the field full time, so soon enough that would probably change.
"Do ya blame him?" Bucky murmured, head turning enough to gaze down at Natasha.
"For not trusting us? No." Her eyes were half lidded, mind wandering to other memories, other times before they slipped fully open once more. "And if you're trying to ask in a roundabout way if I regret it, save it. I have regrets but they don't mean anything. I would probably do everything I've done again if it were necessary. I know that, Tony knows that."
And that was why Tony would never really trust her because he knew that while Natasha might regret it, she would do it again. There might have been a pang of unease at that thought but the spy didn't let it show on her face. There was nothing to do to change it, at least not at the moment but perhaps not ever. For now, she would do what she could to at least make certain the others were comfortable. There was still trust there; Steve trusted her, Clint trusted her. That was all that mattered in the end.
"What I was saying, James, about everyone having bad days? We all have our ways of coping too." She watched the myriad of emotions that played across his face; he'd never been so open before. "Clint copes with video games, Steve copes by …mm, pretending it didn't happen. Or, well, maybe that's not right. He knows it happened, but he ignores it? You cope with long, brooding silences or asking questions that some people think aren't appropriate." There was that faint smile edging up the corners of her lips and a certain mischief in Natasha's eyes. It was almost encouraging.
"An' you cope by goin' out and puttin' your secret assassin skills ta use on unsuspecting men." He was smirking now but there was hardness in Bucky's eyes. "The nose knows." One of his metal fingers lifting to tap his own nose before he let it drop, hugging his midsection in some odd form of comfort. Anyone else would have thought Natasha completely unaffected but Bucky could see how she bristled under the implication. Not that there wasn't truth to it, but that someone had noticed and had the balls to say it to her face. Well, who else could get away with that? Not Steve, that much was certain. Still, Bucky thought maybe Clint could have said it; Bruce would have been too shy. He'd been a bit blunt about it, really, but if she wanted to point out what other people were doing.
"Don't get that face." He grumbled at her, eyes rolling. They settled back on the glass and his flesh hand resumed rubbing at the back of his neck. "Not sayin' there's anything wrong with it, just sayin'." He felt what might have been a tiny pang of guilt but it was squashed. "Like you said, got our ways of coping; can't help it if I don't like his." His hand waved at the windows as it broke away from his neck.
"What face? I don't have a face." And if Natasha turned her body against the wall and let it drop a bit heavily, who noticed? Not Bucky; at least not out loud. "He throws himself in to work. If it gets too bad, if he's starving himself, FRIDAY will let Pepper or Rhodey know. Might even let you and Bruce know; she likes you both. You can tell by how she talks to you. She's kind of snappy with everyone else."
His nose wrinkled in a slight sneer, glancing over at Natasha. "The rest of ya are assholes, so it's not any wonder. I'm all charm an' appeal." He was leering at her, definitely leering and it was not a good look but Bucky seemed to know that.
"Right, charm and appeal." Mirth now, laughter in her eyes and Natasha chuckled softly as she shook her head at him.
There was silence between them; two bodies warming a wall together staring at another glass wall and wondering about the man hidden behind it. Bucky let his arms fold in front of him, squeezing his torso lightly in a mockery of comfort since he couldn't get it elsewhere. He worried about how little sleep Tony might have gotten; FRIDAY would only tell him that boss was okay but nothing more than that. She was prohibited by her protocols; though she'd hinted a few times that leaving food might not go amiss. For that reason, the little table to the left of the workshop doors had appeared and every day, at least once, a plate was left on it. The plate was always gone, never to be seen again, by the evening.
"So, are you going to stand here all day or are we going to get pizza?" Natasha turned her head so that she could see his face, waiting. "You can always come back and brood manfully later."
Bucky grimaced as his stomach growled at the mention of pizza. He pressed his metal hand there a moment then shrugged. "I could eat." His eyes drifted over the door to the lab before he slid off of the wall. The elevator was already moving which meant that FRIDAY was listening, at least. She always was but sometimes Bucky could almost forget it when she didn't speak up right away. The elevator doors opened and they stepped in, both taking opposite sides of the car.
"Excuse me, Sgt. Barnes?" FRIDAY's lilt filled the elevator as the doors slid shut and the car began to descend. "I believe Boss would like pepperoni; just a slice or two." There was hesitation in the AI's voice, before she continued. "If it's not too much trouble, of course."
"Nah, no trouble. Pepperoni. I'll leave it in the usual place." The AI thanked him and let them out in the lobby.
"See, you're being useful. You're helping him." Natasha enunciated the word 'helping' to press her point. "Sometimes, that's enough."
"An' what if it isn't?"'
She shrugged and stuck her hands in her pockets. "Then you figure out another way. And you keep finding new ways until it is." Because moving forward was all anyone could do.
"Thanks." Bucky grumbled, as though thanking her physically hurt him. "An' thanks for lunch…'cause you're payin', right?"
The punch to his right arm echoed through the lobby as they passed through it and out to the street. Bucky was laughing the entire time. Pizza sounded good and he'd remember to bring back slices for Tony. If that wasn't enough, he'd recruit Bruce and maybe…just maybe, they could coax the engineer back out of his workshop.
-End-