Sorry this is up later in the day than usual. I had all but the last 6 paragraphs ready for days, but either didn't have time to finish or got stuck on the end.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Marvel Cinematic Universe or any of the characters contained therein.

WORD COUNT: 1313

Today was a Really Very Bad Day.

That was the term that Darcy had coined to describe a day where he went through at least three different symptoms of a Bad Day (just two was simply a Very Bad Day). There were Bad Days where he had a panic attack. There were Bad Days where he got so anxious he couldn't even speak. There were Bad Days where he was so on edge that he blanked out and slipped into Winter Soldier Attack Mode when someone startled him. There were other types of Bad Days, but today featured a combination of those particular three.

It had started with an interview. After all the charges against Bucky for his actions while he was under HYDRA's control were dropped, the news media and all forms of social media were buzzing about him with a new vigour, and everyone seemed to have an opinion. Some were wholly sympathetic towards his situation, some were calling for his blood regardless, and some still had no idea what to think of it all. Pepper had broached the idea of having Bucky give an interview, in an attempt to gain some control of his public image.

A crowded press conference was, for obvious reasons, completely out of the question, so once Bucky agreed, Pepper arranged for a meeting with a pair of reporters from a reputable media company (Christine Everhart had actually had the gall to personally request an interview, despite being on the Avengers Initiative's blacklist, but had been shut down very quickly), with both her and Steve in attendance so as to keep him from feeling outnumbered. The interview itself took place in a private conference room in Avengers Tower, also to help him feel safe. The reporters in question were respectful, not being overly nasty or accusatory, but they also weren't afraid to ask the hard questions, and while Bucky did answer those questions to the best of his ability, he still walked out of the room with his right hand shaking and his left arm whirring in anticipation of a fight (a common response when he was angry or scared), and fighting the urge to throw up.

He didn't speak all through lunch, and when Natasha asked him a direct question that didn't have a Yes or No answer, he answered in ASL instead of speaking aloud. Clint had quickly offered to teach him and the rest of the Tower's residents when that particular type of Bad Day became known, so that became his primary form of communication when the very thought of speaking left him terrified.

Darcy was more than happy to fill the quiet, though. She liked to share funny stories with everyone, from her escapades in New Mexico and London to her life pre-Jane, which was mainly tales of keggers and funny and/or annoying customers from when she worked in fast food to put a dent in her student loans ("I got all the weirdos at the drive-thru. If they weren't saying 'I'd like to bend you over the counter, Baby', they were all 'Hi, I'm on a skateboard, can I have a burger combo?' 'No, dork!'").

After lunch, he went down to the gym to pummel out his frustrations on a punching bag. It was his usual go-to when he was stressed, a way to release all that pent-up anxiety and anger without running the risk of slipping up and accidentally hurting someone.

Usually.

The reporters had asked a bit about what HYDRA had done to him, how they had turned him into the Winter Soldier. It had been asked with good intentions, as a way to promote sympathy for his situation, but it had brought up lots of bad memories. Memories of waking up on a lab table with a metal arm, of convulsing in a chair while electricity coursed through his head, of scores of beatings for the smallest mistake or rebellion, and of so much more.

He got so lost in his head that even though Steve called his name before approaching him, he didn't notice his best friend's presence until he tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

The silver metal fist just barely grazed past Steve's nose, but the flesh and bone one was right on-target, slamming into the Captain's left cheekbone and fracturing it. He landed several more hits, as Steve reeled from the sudden blow, before Thor managed to pull him off and pin him to the floor.

It took him a full minute to snap out of attack mode, thrashing wildly under the Thunder God's strong grip and trying to reach one of the knives he always carried on his person. Once he was back to himself, and Thor had released him, he took one look at Steve's face and immediately started panicking again, brokenly sobbing "I'm sorry" over and over again, in between gasps as he struggled and failed to control his breathing.

Steve, ignoring the pain of his new injuries, dragged himself over to his best friend and sat down, before gently lifting Bucky up and setting him back down so that his head was in Steve's lap. "It's okay," he assured him, "It wasn't your fault."

He kept repeating that sentiment over and over, until Bucky's sobs had quieted to whimpers and his breathing had steadily returned to something resembling normal. By then, Sam and Natasha had arrived, and Sam was quick to drag Steve off to the infirmary.

Natasha helped Thor pull Bucky to his feet. The former Winter Soldier had gone silent once more, meekly obeying as they gently led him to the elevator and took him up to his and Steve's apartment.

Darcy and Jane also shared an apartment on that same floor, and the spunky lab assistant had just been exiting it when the trio exited the elevator. She took one look at Bucky's distressed state (glassy, red-rimmed eyes, pale, tear-streaked cheeks, blank expression, hunched shoulders, and a spatter of Steve's blood on his shirt) and followed them in. Without a word, she pulled his bedcovers to the side and fluffed the pillow as he silently crawled into it. Natasha quietly filled her in on what as she and Thor each removed a boot and Darcy helped him pull off the bloodstained shirt. They all knew from experience that those panic attacks left Bucky exhausted afterwards.

Darcy tucked him in gently, reminding him a little of how his Ma used to do so when he was little. The fear and guilt and 'What if's were still swirling around his head, making him feel like he was going to be sick, but they were all slowly being overwhelmed by the bone-deep tiredness that was slowly pulling him down.

Darcy, Natasha, and Thor all turned to leave the room and give him space, but stopped when his metal hand slipped out from under the blankets and gently gripped Darcy's wrist.

"Stay," he whispered, sounding like he might break if she walked away from him.

Darcy nodded to an unsure Natasha and Thor, then sat down on the edge of the bed, toed off her sneakers, and then settled in behind to him on top of the covers. Not once did she try to remove his hand.

The other two closed the bedroom door behind them, although Darcy was sure that either one or both of them would stay in the apartment proper until Steve returned.

She got herself comfortable, grabbing a spare blanket and dragging it over herself. Then she started running her fingers through Bucky's hair, slowly but rhythmically, even after his breathing finally evened out and he drifted off to sleep.

I was watching an episode of 'CSI' (the original) that Kat Dennings was in while working on this four days ago, and the skateboarder in the drive-thru blurb was quoted directly from one of her lines. The 'bending over the counter' bit was something another character actually said to hers.

Next chapter's prompt is 'Torture', and since I haven't even started it, it might also be coming later in the day. I'm not sure what I'm going to do for 15, but I at least have a good idea for 16, and 17 is already completely written.