A/N: As always, thank you so much if you've reviewed! I am visiting family so the updates may be a little more sporadic, but I'm hoping will still happen daily.

14. See, I keep lying to myself

Somehow, they make it back to his apartment. He sits down on the couch, perhaps at Natalia's insistence. She curls up next to him and he holds her while she cries. All he feels is numb, and no tears come. Then he starts to get angry. What caused this to happen? Who is behind it? And what can he do to get revenge? Steve wouldn't want him to be out for revenge, of course. But there's more to it than that. He's not going to go out there just to make himself feel better. He's going to honor his friend's memory in whatever way he can. Except he doesn't know what happened, doesn't have any clues to follow.

"Natalia," he murmurs, running his hand down her back.

She adjusts herself to look up at him. "What is it?"

"Tell me what happened."

Biting her lip, she sits up and away from him. He resists drawing her back. "James, I know you want to know, but maybe it's too soon," she says quietly.

"Natalia, please." He's sick of people keeping things from him to protect him. He can handle it.

Seeing the look on his face, she nods. "Don't go off half-cocked because of what I tell you," she warns him sternly.

"I won't," he promises, though unsure if he's being truthful.

She takes a deep breath and folds her legs beside her, staring off into the distance. "Steve was trying to get everyone on the same page. He was… Well, that's not important now. There was a press conference called and Steve was determined to speak. There was a lot of… strife surrounding it. Protestors from both sides. Fury sent me to be his eyes and ears in the crowd, and, when Steve arrived with Sharon, someone … shot him from a building across the street. When I got there, it was too late. They were gone."

When she folds her hand around his, he realizes he's clenched his fists. After a moment, he loosens them. "You didn't see anything helpful?"

"What do you mean?"

Keeping the strain from his voice is difficult. "Any indication of who did this?" He can tell she's keeping something from him by the expression that passes briefly over her face. "Natalia, tell me," he insists.

"It's not that simple," she tells him, just as insistently. "But I think… I think it was Rumlow," she adds hesitantly.

His eyes narrow, and he clenches his fists again. A face flashes before his eyes, a face that watched him and saw only a malfunctioning tool. "Where can I find him?"

She takes hold of his hands and makes him look her in the eye. "Don't do this, James. Getting yourself killed isn't going to help Steve."

"Then what will?" he snarls.

Her brow furrows at his tone, and he feels a little remorseful. "I don't know how much he's aware of, but I'm sure he'd appreciate another visit from his best friend. Particularly if his friend is calm," she adds pointedly.

He smiles grimly. "I don't think there will be much chance of that. Seeing him like that…" Shaking his head violently, he pulls away from her. "It's too much," he manages to admit.

She takes his hands again, holding him still. "James, please don't do this. We don't know what will happen. He may pull through."

"Did the doctors say that?"

Her expression is sincere as she nods. "Yes. He might. Or he might not. They're doing everything they can. So don't do anything rash because you're upset."

"That's what he would do," he suggests harshly.

She snorts. "I thought you were the sensible one."

"Well, you might be wrong."

"I don't think so," she says gently, looking at him intently. "Steve only sees the world in black and white. I know you can see the shades of grey."

"What are you talking about?"

"Steve saw nothing left to live for if he'd lost you. If he'd failed you. But you have something else, don't you, James?"

He studies her face, considering. The world feels as though it's been ripped from under his feet. But he still has her, his Natalia. And Sam. Maybe others. "Yes," he admits.

"Good." She settles against his chest again and he lets her.

Eventually, she leaves. Eventually, he gets up from the couch to look out the window. Whatever her excuse for not staying with him any longer was lost on him; he's too deep in thought to really notice. After everything that's happened, this blow is unimaginable. He feels as though someone really has hit him, perhaps over and over. Like he hit Steve. If there's one thing he truly feels guilty about, it's that. When he started to recognize Steve, his first reaction was to drive the confusing presence away, not attempt to understand. Well, arguably, his real first reaction was to ask about the man he'd seen. But then they'd wiped him, and he'd been afraid, terrified, of what he was feeling when Steve started to break through again. So he'd put his best friend in the hospital. And now he was there again.

Everything spirals. Whenever he gets used to how things are going to be, something worse always seems to come along. After his dad died, he went to war. After he'd been promoted and was doing well, he was a prisoner of war. Things notably improved when Steve asked him to join the Howlies, but then he'd fallen off of the train and everything became much, much worse. He should have known that the comfort and happiness he'd been feeling here lately weren't going to last.

As he contemplates his life, he is startled by a knock. It isn't at his door, as he would have expected, but rather at a window. Hesitantly, he follows the sound to find a hunched figure on his fire escape, patiently motioning to get his attention. A deep frown crosses his face, but he goes to open the window, stepping back quickly before he can be attacked.

"Thought you'd never get here," the man mutters as he climbs in and then stands up straight. He's dressed in many layers, including sunglasses and a hat. But he recognizes him.

"Fury," he says, surprised. He wonders if he should apologize for almost killing him a few months earlier.

"Let's not advertise that, Barnes," Fury advises, dusting himself off.

"What do you want?" he asks, folding his arms over his chest. The slightest look of alarm that crosses Fury's face at the movement of his metal arm doesn't go unnoticed.

"I need your help."

"Why me?"

Fury smiles at him, though it is grim. "Because you're a ghost. My best people couldn't find you. So I need you to do something for me without anyone knowing what happened."

His jaw clenches. "Yeah, I'll get right on that."

"Easy, Barnes. It's for Rogers."

As if he could say no to that. He listens, speculative, as Fury explains what he needs. He doesn't explain his unorthodox method of reaching him, but he's convinced in the end. He'd do anything for Steve.