"I don't know what to do for him… I thought by now I knew how to save people, but… he's right there in front of me and I can't help him." Steve sat dejectedly stabbing at a bowl of what was probably instant oatmeal, appetite forgotten. A clump of it slithered over the edge of the bowl and landed with a heavy glop on the tabletop. The diner's tables hadn't looked particularly clean to begin with, but he tossed a napkin over it out of polite reflex.
"Don't know what you expected." Tony commented, upending a small flask into his mug and taking an experimental sip. He coughed and pounded his chest, looking satisfied.
"Shut the hell up, Stark." Black Widow shoved him, not particularly playfully, a slice of toast in her other hand.
"Just saying, Red, that's the kind of shit that stays with you." He eyed her over the rim of the mug. "How would you feel if you woke up one morning and found out you killed a couple dozen people?"
"Gee, I dunno. That's just so outside my experience, Tony. How would I feel about that…?" She flicked her eyes pointedly in Steve's direction, then back, with an expression that clearly promised a slow and painful death if this line of conversation was not dropped.
"It's ok…" Steve was nothing if not observant. "He's right. It's not going away. It's just getting worse, if anything. I guess I thought if Bucky just remembered who he is, that he'd be ok. But... he's not."
"You knew this wasn't going to be easy. And you're doing everything you can."
"I feel like I should be doing something that I'm not. I don't know what... But-" His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pushed the bowl of oatmeal away, as he slipped it out and checked the number. Tony reached over and helped himself to the bowl.
"Hey Sam, did you want to meet us for- ...Oh, thanks. I didn't know you were coming over or I'd have waited for you. How's he doing? … No…. I don't think that door even has a lock. ... No- ...Did he answer you? It might not be a big deal, but - … I'm on my way."