Bucky watched Tony walk away with the icepack, and he felt a pang of hurt. The man was suffering, something was wrong, and he was doing a crappy job of hiding it. After everything they had all been through, Bucky wished he could help Tony somehow. He knew Steve felt the same way. Tony and Steve had been so close before. It wasn't something Steve hid from him. He knew they had shared a connection—not unlike the one he had with Steve. Bucky knew that what went down in Siberia had damaged things, but it shocked him to see how much. The spark he remembered seeing in Tony's eye was gone, even the anger he expected seemed off. It looked like a piece of him was missing. Guilt settled over him at the thought of the role he played in the change of the man.

Sighing, he walked up to the breakfast bar, looking around the room quickly before taking a seat. Old habits of searching for threats died hard. He grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl, turning it in his hands as he thought. He still couldn't get the image of Tony's empty eyes from his mind.

Steve walked up beside him, his arms crossed over his chest. Steve shifted, so he was looking at Rhodey. "You know something, don't you? About what's going on with Tony."

He watched as Rhodey sipped his coffee. "Oh, I know, but I ain't telling."

Bucky's head cocked to the side a bit. "So, something is wrong with him. He's sick."

Rhodey sighed, setting down his coffee. "I'll just say there is more to Tony than you know."

Clint shifted, fiddling with an apple. "Is it serious?"

"Look, guys, I know you care, but it's not my place. He isn't nosing around your business—stay out of his," Rhodey said.

"You're deflecting," Steve said.

"No, I am honoring my friend's privacy," Rhodey said firmly. "Look, if you want to help him, just try to be his friend. He needs that right now. Invite him to eat with you guys. He might say no but make the offer anyway."

Steve sighed. "He'll be alright, won't he?"

Rhodey rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Yeah, I think. He's been dealing with this for a long time, but he's got me and Pepper to help him through it."

Bucky felt like there was a heavy stone in his stomach. Even though he barely knew the man, he felt connected to him. Whatever was wrong, it sounded concerning. He tossed the banana back it the bowl and scratched at the scruff on his face.

"And I might as well warn you," Rhodey continued. "He's probably going to sleep a lot the next few days—nothing to worry about. I'm not leaving until he's more himself."

Bucky could remember when Steve was a kid and always sick. He had fragments of memories of taking care of him—layering blanket after blanket over him trying to keep the chill off him in the cold winters. Bucky, despite what HYDRA tried to make him, was by nature a nurturer. Steve was, too, really. It made it hard knowing someone they both cared about was sick and hurting, and there was nothing that they could do about it.

Bucky rubbed at the shadow of a beard on his jaw. "So, is there anything else we can do—other than inviting him to eat with us?"

Rhodey sighed. "Friday's currently watching him and reporting back to me and his doctor, but if he seems off, more than usual, let me or Pepper know."

"He seemed pretty off when he was just here," Clint said. "He didn't call me birdbrain, or even an asshole—which I deserve. It's like his spark is gone. I've never seen him so … numb. And then there's the fact he looks like shit. He's so thin, and I never thought I'd see the day that Tony Stark wore the same clothes twice."

Bucky didn't like what he was hearing. He wished he'd met the man before—seen him happy. He wished there was a way to make him happy again. He deserved it after helping them like he had. He looked like he'd aged twenty years in the short time since he'd seen him last.

"We can do that," Bucky said, glancing at Steve and then Clint. "We'll keep an eye on him. Least we can do for what he's done for us."

"Thanks, guys," Rhodey said. "I've got to head to the boardroom. I have a teleconference to attend since I am staying here for a while. Even though the Accords are fixed, Ross is still a pain in my ass."

Rhodey reached out and grabbed the cereal bowl Tony had left half-eaten, dumping it out and setting it in the sink. "I'll try to get to dishes later. Don't bug Tony about it."

Bucky nodded, remembering the way Tony's hands had shook as he tried to eat. He hadn't eaten much of his cereal before leaving. Maybe he should make him something in a while and bring it up to him or maybe Steve or someone else should. Bucky still wasn't very sure how Tony felt about him. He said he'd forgiven him, that it wasn't his fault, but that didn't mean being around him was easy. The last thing Bucky wanted to do was to make Tony feel uncomfortable.

"I'll take care of the dishes," Bucky offered, getting up and walking over to the sink, turning on the water and grabbing a sponge. "It's no problem."

"Thanks, man," Rhodey said, checking his watch. "Alright, I'm out of here for the meeting. If anything comes up, just have Friday get me."

Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Steve taking a seat beside Clint. They both appeared lost in thought. He decided not to bother them and instead went about washing what was in the sink.

Dishes washed, Bucky turned to see his friends still sitting quietly. "So, what now?"

Clint picked his head up, shrugging. "I can't stop thinking about Tony and how bad he looks right now. I was ready for a lot of things coming back—him being mad, fights breaking out. I bet Sam we'd be out in a week. It's like he's someone else entirely."

"Yeah." Steve ran his fingers through his hair. "He isn't the same. The old Tony wouldn't back down. Now he just seems resigned to let whatever happens, happen. And you should see his workshop. He used to take some pride in that place. It's a disaster now—debris everywhere. Must have over twenty coffee cups littering the counters and floor. There's no way he's able to work in there like that."

Clint leaned his elbows on the counter, resting his head on his hands, his expression thoughtful. "I know this might be a stretch, but I was thinking, do you think this is some kind of mental thing—like depression or something. I just mean after everything we put him through. It makes sense he might be a bit messed up in the head."

Steve's brows knit together. "I probably shouldn't say anything, but I ran into him last night down here. I don't think he wanted me to see him do it, he was pretty agitated, but I saw him taking some pills. I don't know what they were for, but they really knocked him out. I had to help him to bed."

Bucky's brows pinched together. "What do you mean, agitated? You didn't fight with him, did you?"

Steve drew a breath, shaking his head. "We just got talking. Things got a little tense. He told me I shouldn't care—to just hate him instead."

Bucky walked over to Steve, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Honestly, he's got a right to be angry about things, but I think you know that. It doesn't mean he'll be angry forever, though." Bucky gave his shoulder a squeeze. "We'll figure something out."

Clint threw his apple core into the trash. "Want my opinion? I think we do what Rhodes said—try to offer support, don't be a threat. I think we all had a lot of time to think over how we screwed things up while we were holed up in Wakanda. It's obviously messed with Tony more than we know. We don't know the details of what went on to make him like this, but Rhodey and Pepper do, so I think we need to defer to them on how to handle it."

Bucky agreed. There was a lot they didn't know. "Anyone else notice the hip thing?"

Steve sighed. "If you're referring to the constant supply of ice packs, then yes."

"He's favoring his leg," Clint said. "I'm sure it all ties in somehow but I don't see anyone willing to fill us in, so …"

Light footsteps were approaching, and they all looked up as Natasha strolled in. "Why the glum faces?"

Clint grabbed an apple and tossed it to Natasha, who polished it on her shirt. "We were just talking about Tony."

She nodded and hummed. "If you're talking about how terrible he looks, I agree. He doesn't seem like the same Stark from before the fight. This whole place has a different vibe, and I caught a glimpse of him heading back to his room earlier. He was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't bothered to shower."

"We just tried interrogating Rhodes about him," Clint said. "But didn't get much. We think maybe he's depressed or something."

"He might be." Natasha took a bite of her apple, chewing it slowly as she thought. "Though I never saw a mention of mental illness in his file other than PTSD, it could be something new."

Clint shook his head. "Not from the way Rhodes was talking. He made it sound like Tony's always had this going on, and we just never saw it until now."

"Tony's a master at keeping up a mask," Natasha said. "I hate to say it because I'm just as guilty as any of you, but we never did try to get too close to him. We accepted his false front. We let him keep us at a distance. Maybe it's time to change that."

Her words hit home with Bucky. He knew what it was like to pretend you're okay when you're not. There were some days that he would put on a good face for Steve—not wanting to drag him down with his own demons. He wondered if Natasha was right. If all Tony's bravado had been just a front and he was hurting underneath.

Bucky's head picked up as he heard the distant sound of a door opening and closing, followed by the sound of footsteps making their way down the hall. He walked out of the kitchen area and peered around the corner. Tony was trying to slip by, heading for his workshop. He looked the same as he did before, disheveled, looking worn and frail. Bucky couldn't believe that this was the man he'd fought in Siberia. There was no life in him now. He seemed hollow. His eyes looked dead as they glanced over to meet his. Tony didn't hold his gaze long, though. He quickly looked to the floor and scurried away. Bucky watched the way Tony walked. He was definitely favoring his hip.

He watched him until he disappeared and then returned his focus to the kitchen.