The bullet whizzed past Bucky's ear close enough for him to not only hear the whine of it, but to physically flinch away before reaching for a gun that he hadn't brought with him in a vain attempt to fire back and end the problem in a timely and efficient manner.
He growled under his breath in irritation.
There were days like these when he regretted not coming equipped in the manner to which he'd become used to as The Winter Soldier. He would have had knives, handguns, and, most likely, automatic weapons at his immediate and near-instant disposal. Never mind the cadre of Hydra flunkies available to keep him constantly supplied with any piece of tech or weaponry he might need to complete the task at hand.
Not that he wanted to ever go back to working for Hydra in any capacity, but there had been advantages to that arrangement that were definitely lacking with his current one.
He couldn't fucking shoot back without a fucking gun to shoot with.
"Sam," he groused into the comms, "I'm pinned down."
Intel, not done by either Sam or himself, had shown there would be little or no resistance for this supposed simple retrieval job.
Personally, Bucky had the concern they'd been set up. Getting in had been almost too easy and by the book, getting out had turned into a disaster from the instant they'd acquired the package. They'd retrieved the hard drive in question, but their planned and supposedly secure route out had been almost immediately compromised forcing them to find an alternate exit strategy.
The situation quickly became complicated as they'd been forced higher into the building. Not a huge problem for Sam as he could jump out a window and fly away if needed. Except they'd been prepared for that as well. Shooters both on the ground and on the roof, which they had discovered the hard way as Bucky forced his way out onto the flat and extremely exposed surface. The nearby buildings being noticeably taller and with snipers strategically placed to take out the now stranded former Winter Soldier.
Sam had managed to escape their fire, but Bucky had not. He had the option of just making a run for it and jumping off the roof, the height far less than that idiotic jump out of the plane he'd taken, but he would probably be out of commission for a few seconds at the very least after his landing and even that short amount of time would probably be too much in this particular scenario given the expert placement of the ground troops.
"Sam," he barked this time.
"Working on it," Sam snapped, the sound of his jet thrusters easily heard in the background. "I lost all tracking data as soon as we got outside."
Bucky ground his teeth together in frustration as another bullet whined by. He'd taken the only available cover on the roof, the structure for the staircase, and had shooters on the three sides. The fourth did not have a building, but he had to assume there were shooters on the ground just waiting for him to attempt to take the only obvious route available to him.
He did not enjoy being shot. It hurt and made him cranky.
Well, crankier than usual.
"So, what you're saying is we were set up."
Sam sighed loud enough to be heard over the rushing wind. "So it would appear," he agreed, tone caustic. "I'm trying to get an overview from the Redbirds, but they're being shot at too."
"Son of a bitch," Bucky snarled. "I'd rather not have to jump off this building to escape."
"Shit. Shit. Shit. Gimme a sec and see if I can get Iris online."
Bucky frowned. He had been avoiding using the program since that night he'd... he'd… Let's be honest here, that night he'd broken up with Nienna, for lack of a more accurate description. He hadn't wanted to force her to interact with him after hurting her in multiple senses of that word. But in this instance, it might be their only option. "If you can get me confirmed locations for the shooters I might be able to figure a way out of this. Someone is going to respond to the sounds of gunfire eventually, and we are technically not supposed to be here."
"And how am I supposed to get that info to you?" Sam questioned in an exasperated tone.
"Send it to my phone. In fact, route the overhead video from your drones as well, Iris might not be able to get detailed data in time."
"Yeah, that might work."
Bucky poked his head around the wall of the roof access only to have a bullet ping off the concrete mere inches above his head as a clear reminder that they, whoever the fuck they were, had not yet gotten bored and wandered off. He was trapped and Sam wouldn't leave without him, meaning they were both stuck here until the stalemate had been broken.
"You should be receiving video now," Sam informed Bucky.
Bucky pulled out the phone, which now had a damn near unbreakable case to prevent the shattering of another one any sooner than absolutely necessary. "Got it." The video did not really provide any good news, the shooters were at least semi-professional, set up with tripods and what looked like plenty of ammunition. Unless he timed things just right he would remain pinned down indefinitely. "Sam, you're going to have to take them out." He looked again and reconsidered. "Two of them, anyway." The building to his left was markedly closer than the other two and while taller, had balconies that he could use to climb up and take out the third.
Sam grunted in response. "Which two?"
"I'll deal with the one to my left if you can disable the others."
"You sure about this, Buck?"
"No, but it's either this or wait till someone with authority shows up and arrests us, so..."
Bucky swore he could hear Sam grinding his teeth.
"On my way."
In less than a minute one of the Redwing drones sailed a dozen feet over his head heading for the building to his right. A flash of white in the bright summer sky proved to be Sam diving with the sun at his back towards his chosen target. The other drone still hovering high overhead showed the shooter on Bucky's target building shifting his focus as the attacks from the air that had commenced on his compatriots. Once relatively certain there was no one paying direct attention to him, he ran full speed to the edge of the building and flung himself off. If he missed, he'd survive the fall but suffer the throes of embarrassment for months to come.
Thankfully, he hadn't misjudged the distance and used his left arm to snag the metal balcony rail just two stories down from the roof of the building he'd jumped from. Once certain of his grip he wasted no time and began moving upwards, jumping vertically from one balcony to the next and heaving himself up, to repeat the process until he reached the roof level.
Knowing he had mere seconds to neutralize the target once on the roof proper he paused before the last leap and checked the live video feed to ascertain where his target currently resided in relation to his current position. Taking one last moment to prepare himself, Bucky leapt up and grasped the edge of the roof lip with both hands and all but launched himself over it in a seemingly effortless move, oriented and barreled straight for the man with the rifle who took potshots at the Redwing drone that swung wildly to avoid being hit.
Bucky surged forward, ripped the rifle out of the man's hand, casually snapping the barrel in two before stalking after the man who'd spent the last few minutes trying to kill one now extremely cranky and irritated Bucky Barnes.
The fool threw one punch which Bucky easily batted away, he reached out and wrapped his left hand around the man's throat, pulling him in close before growling out, "Who set us up?"
The man shook his head and feigned innocence, protesting Bucky's attack on him.
Bucky punched him, breaking his nose and causing blood to spill down his face. "Who set us up?"
The man raised his hands in seeming surrender. Bucky didn't care. While technically a government job, the details, however, had been arranged through a third party.
"I do not know," the shooter responded. "I was told to shoot. Keep you here. That's all."
Bucky, not particularly liking that response, hit him again, this time in the ribs. "Who? I need a name."
Suddenly something smashed into Bucky from the side, causing him to release the shooter as he tumbled, turning it into a roll that allowed him to regain his feet seemingly effortlessly. Crouching in a defensive posture he stared at Sam, who looked furious.
"What the hell, man? We don't do that." Sam stood protectively over the man who, until just a few moments before, had been shooting and presumably trying to kill both of them.
"No. You don't do that. I, on the other hand, do. And quite well at that." Bucky straightened and snapped a hand out at the man who had crumpled to the ground holding his ribs with one hand and nose with the other. "He was hired by someone and we need to know who."
"By beating it out of him?" Sam questioned, clearly appalled by even the thought of it.
"We don't have time for niceties. We extract the info then act on it."
"Buck, now is not the time to let your evil alter ego out to play."
"This is exactly the time. I get that you don't have the stomach for it, so just fly away and I'll get the answers we need."
"No."
Sam had spoken so softly that even Bucky with his enhanced hearing had almost missed it.
"What?"
"This is not the job we came to do. The threat is neutralized, time to leave."
"Sam," Bucky snarled, wondering if the Great and Powerful Captain America even understood what the current threat really had become.
"No," Sam repeated, making it eminently clear he would not be backing down on this hill he'd chosen to die on. "I can fly you down or you can walk or jump, but we are leaving now."
Bucky glowered at his supposed partner but knew with a certainty he could feel in his bones Sam would leave him standing here to find his own way home should he argue, even though he was the one holding the package they had come for. "I'll meet you at the exfil location."
Sam nodded and launched himself into the air.
The man who still lay on the surface of the roof watched Bucky with more than a touch of fear in his eyes and while Bucky would much rather find out who had arranged this trap with a more direct means he knew his window to get clear must be closing swiftly. So, with little more than a grunt and a glare, he made his way to the edge of the building, climbed over the side, dug the fingers of his left hand into the hardened stucco, and let gravity do the rest.
. . .
Bucky fingered the hole in his uniform pants for a long moment before shoving them into the depths of the duffle bag. The dark blue jacket hadn't survived much better, the material scraped and scuffed in multiple places thanks to his adventures less than twelve hours ago. Their contact, to whom they were supposed to hand over the oh-so-important hard drive, had, shockingly, not met them at the rendezvous, making even Sam wonder if there was anything of real value on the piece of tech.
He would look into it once back home. If nothing else it might lead him to whomever had arranged that trap for them.
Sam had already read Torres the riot act as the initial inquiry for the job had come through him, or his bosses rather. Wherever the original intel had come from had been good enough to fool everyone involved before it had been handed over to Captain America and company. Next time Bucky would vet the intel himself before even thinking about saying yes.
With a growl of irritation at the whole fucking situation, he stowed his bag and then headed for the seats. Sam had managed to get them on a military transport carrying cargo back to DC. It wasn't as comfortable as first class, but he'd flown worse... much worse in his time.
He settled into one of the seats, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, intending to get some shuteye while he could. Plus, it gave him a way to avoid Sam, who had been giving Bucky that pinch-faced unhappy glare all afternoon.
He'd just about managed to doze off when he felt more than heard Sam settle into the seat next to him.
Bucky attempted to wait him out, but he could practically feel the glare being leveled upon him.
"What?" Bucky questioned, the single syllable tight and clipped.
"That's what I was gonna ask you."
Bucky swallowed down the heavy sigh that desperately wanted to make itself heard and cracked open an eye to stare balefully at Sam who sat there with concern coloring his features. "Just spit it out, Wilson."
"You were gonna kill him, Buck."
Bucky shook his head. "No, I wasn't. Not yet anyway. Not till I had the info."
"And if he didn't have it?"
Bucky shrugged. "Doesn't matter now, does it?"
Sam rubbed a hand across his face. "Yeah, it does. We had a job and it wasn't an assassination."
Bucky ground his teeth together causing the muscles in his jaw to flex visibly. "He... They were trying to kill us. If I'd had a gun, I'd've taken all three out and we would have been gone."
"Thought you didn't do that anymore," Sam sneered, obviously trying to get a rise out of Bucky.
This time it worked. "Look, you may have decided you're too good for guns since becoming Captain America, but I'm not. Sometimes there's no choice if you want to survive. Have you forgotten our little adventure in Madripoor?" The muscles in Bucky's jaw pooped in his ire. "If we'd been prepared today we would have been gone in a third of the time, set up or not."
Sam frowned. "I'm not gonna disagree with you on that, but the whole point of doing this was to be better. To not leave a trail of blood and bodies as we do this save the world schtick."
"Then we shouldn't have taken this job," Bucky argued. "This was some covert ops shit they didn't want to risk doing themselves. Hell, I get the feeling we, or you, were the target from the get-go. Kill or discredit Captain America, especially after we outed the GRC for their bullshit in Brazil."
Sam dropped his head for a long moment. "Yeah. I have Iris looking into it. Torres only knows what he knows and is being stonewalled by the higher-ups at this point."
Bucky frowned at the mention of Iris, his look somehow managing to turn even more dour.
"Why aren't you using the program? Nienna says you haven't accessed it in a few weeks."
"I can manage without it," Bucky responded through gritted teeth." He did not want to talk about Iris or Ni.
"I can see that. Why'd you stop seeing her?"
"Sam-"
"No, Buck. Ni's been texting me to make sure you are all right and based on what I've seen, you're not. What happened? The tabloids get to be too much for you?"
Bucky shook his head, not believing she'd been questioning Sam about Bucky's well-being when she hadn't texted him even once. "It's better this way."
"No, it's not. She's worried about you, man, and so am I. You barely respond to me, you haven't responded to Sarah or the boys. Did you dump your book club too?"
Bucky didn't answer mostly because the next meeting wasn't for another week and while he'd finished the book, and enjoyed it, he had yet to decide if he was going to join the online meeting that had been scheduled. He didn't think he could handle being there if Ni was as well. She was the reason he'd joined, after all, they were her friends and his only by association. Hell, she'd probably let them all know he'd dumped her, which would put them firmly on her side.
"No. Not yet," he admitted.
"Talk to me, Buck. What happened between you two?"
Bucky stared straight ahead. "Like you don't already know, I'm sure she's told you the whole sordid tale."
"Ni has told me nothing. Only asked if you are doing okay."
"Right."
"I can show you the texts if you want," Sam offered, waving his phone about.
"Why the hell is she texting you anyway?" Bucky groused feeling rather put upon at the moment.
"You do realize Ni and I are friends, right? She and Sarah have been exchanging recipes regularly."
Bucky stared at Sam in confusion. No, he hadn't realized that. Hadn't even thought about it even though he'd been the one to introduce her to the Wilson family. Sarah had liked her enough after that first visit to give her an open invitation to return. It hadn't dawned on him that Nienna would entrench herself deeper into his world than just a friend with benefits.
"Come on, man, what happened?"
Bucky sighed, not really wanting to relive that particular night with its widely divergent highs and lows, but given he was stuck on the plane with Sam for the next six or so hours didn't really see any way of getting out of it.
"I... I hurt her."
Sam blinked. "When? How?" His eyes narrowed warningly. "She said those bruises were from a sparring match with someone else."
Bucky huffed out a breath. "They were. This… this is about something else that happened."
Sam's lips thinned as he held the reprimand and probable follow-up questions inside in an attempt to give Bucky a chance to speak and defend himself.
Bucky leaned forward, forearms a heavy weight upon his thighs, closed his eyes, and shivered at the mere thought of that night. It had been so amazing and perfect... until it hadn't.
"It... I had a dream... a nightmare, and when I woke up I hurt her. I tried to leave. Wanted to leave, but we were at my place so..." He shrugged again."
"So she gave you the space you needed."
Bucky nodded. "Close enough."
"Okay, gonna put on my counselor hat now and ask a few questions." Sam took Bucky's nonexistent response for a yes. "What was the dream?"
Bucky's throat tried to close on the words. Words he didn't want to say, but knew he needed to if there were to ever be a chance to get past it. "I killed her," he managed in a strangled tone. "Not me me, but me."
Sam sat in silence for a few moments, clearly attempting to translate what Bucky hadn't been able to say directly. "You're saying the Winter Soldier killed her, and you what, watched?"
Bucky nodded morosely. "It was my hands, my smile, but I could only watch as he... I... snapped her neck." He got the words out, if barely, his voice nothing more than a harsh whisper that Sam could probably barely hear over the drone of the engines.
"Damn," Sam muttered as he took in the full meaning of Bucky's confession. "Wait. Was this the night of the event? The one where that douche of a reporter used the Red Book words?"
"Yeah," Bucky admitted.
"Well, no wonder you had a nightmare. And if I recall correctly he ordered you to hurt her. Hurt Nienna."
" 'Break her arm.' " Bucky quoted, a shiver running through him as the memory of the feel of those words running through his brain, taking over his mind slithered through him. "Then she stood up to him. Defended me in front of all of them. Then I hurt her anyway."
"How, Buck? How did you hurt her? Because she has told me nothing of the sort."
That surprised Bucky given the welts he'd seen on her back surely would have blossomed to impressive bruises by morning. "I- This is going to sound so stupid, but when I woke up thinking I had just killed her only to find her alive I held onto her as if I might never get the chance to again."
"Let me guess, you forgot your own strength," Sam summed up succinctly.
"You could say that. My arm," Bucky raised his left hand, turning it about in the dim light of the cargo bay, "left welts down her back and shoulder. As soon as I realized what I'd done I knew I needed to get away from her. Couldn't risk it."
Sam nodded slowly, absorbing Bucky's words and hopefully the deeper meaning behind them.
"Did you mean to hurt her?"
"What? No, of course not." Bucky sounded almost offended as he had when Sam thought he'd been the one to put the bruises on Nienna's flesh while sparring. Maybe more, even. Yes, training her had occasionally resulted in bruises and scrapes, but it went with the territory. And Sam knew that.
"Then what's the issue?"
"I could have killed her. Could have broken her ribs, crushed her without even meaning to. She didn't sign up for random accidental breakage when she swiped right."
"Okay. Fair point, but did you talk to her about it? At all?"
Bucky shook his head. "She doesn't want to talk to me and I don't blame her."
Sam blinked. "Why do you think that?"
Bucky frowned. He'd admit to making some assumptions, but given the situation, they didn't seem to have been outrageous ones. "She sent my stuff back by mail."
"Stuff?"
"Clothes I'd left at her place or she'd borrowed. A couple of books. Stuff."
"And you assumed that meant she was done with you."
"Well, yeah. What else could it mean?"
"That she's polite. She'd probably finished the books, and didn't want you missing part of your small supply of clothes."
"Now who's making assumptions," Bucky groused.
Sam waved his phone. "Not assumptions."
"Fuck," Bucky muttered.
"Do you really not want to see her any longer?"
"It's safer for her. Next time I might not stop in time."
"That is not what I asked." Sam tipped his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Do you love her?"
Bucky went stock still, his poker face dropping firmly into place.
Sam noticed. "All right, forget love. I think we can agree that you care about her, enough to walk away to protect her, yes?"
Bucky gave a grudging nod of agreement.
"If you were back home, in the forties, I mean, would you marry her? Don't think, just answer."
When the single word, "Yes," came out of his mouth no one was more surprised than Bucky.
Sam smirked at him.
"But it's not the forties."
The smirk faded but did not disappear completely. "True. But you can't deny you care about her. Maybe even love her to one degree or another."
"I will neither confirm nor deny any of that." Though Bucky had to admit some part of him felt lighter for admitting it could be possible. "I couldn't live with myself if I hurt her... or worse."
"I get that, but even you can admit it wasn't intentional. You need to talk to her. If only to tell her why you don't want to be with her."
"I thought it would be obvious."
"Not for her. She knows something happened, but that's it. Personally, I think she's given you too much space, but that was her choice. She seemed to think leaving you alone would let you work through it. I think it just made you cranky and you're taking it out on everyone else."
"I haven't taken it out on you yet," Bucky snarked.
"You also haven't come back to Delacroix the last couple of jobs. You've gone back to being alone and it's not good for you," Sam pointed out and not incorrectly.
"Alone is safer for everyone."
"Not the paparazzi. I've seen some of those tabloid pics. You look ready to kill in some of them."
Bucky grimaced. "They are so fucking annoying. Cameras in my face, questions about me and Ni." He shook his head in dismay. "You weren't kidding about the attention." Even weeks later he and Nienna often ended up on TMZ, the Bugle, or a dozen web or paper tabloid covers. The New York local ones especially. All of them speculated on their relationship and questioned why they hadn't been seen together in public recently.
"At least you didn't punch any of them. That would have gone over well."
"Wanted to, but then there'd be headlines about the Winter Soldier instead." Bucky rubbed the back of his head. "Some days it feels like that past will never let me go."
"And then shit like today happens."
"And then shit like today happens," Bucky agreed. "I may have overreacted, but I still think he was our best chance to learn who planned that."
"Maybe, maybe not. I'm not going to argue about it now. I think we may need to separate ourselves from the government for a while. At least till we figure out what the hell is going on."
"Yeah, that might be a good idea. Maybe contact some of the others, see if there's been pressure being put on them as well." Bucky hadn't reached out to any of them since he'd never really been an Avenger. Doc Strange had gotten back to him eventually, but it had been well after the situation had been resolved. There just hadn't been any real need to contact anyone else in the hero biz.
"Maybe. Most of them seem to have just gone back to their lives without the heroing." Sam sounded a tad wistful about that.
"Except for the Parker kid."
Sam chuckled for a moment then sobered. "That kid is going to burn out before he's twenty."
"Or get killed."
"Or that. You gonna talk to Ni when you get back to town?" Sam asked, attempting to sound casual about it and failing miserably
"I shouldn't, but I will. Try to anyway, she may have given up on me by this point."
"Not a chance," Sam assured him with complete confidence.
"And why do you say that?" Bucky asked, honestly curious.
"Because she's your friend. That doesn't change just because you're being a dick."
Bucky snorted. "Fair enough."
. . .
Bucky realized his right leg had resumed its nervous bouncing without his permission. He grumbled under his breath, settled deeper into the chair, and forced his body to relax.
She would have texted if she'd changed her mind.
Wouldn't she?
Maybe. Maybe not.
After what he'd done she would be entirely justified in not showing up. He hadn't exactly been contrite when requesting that she meet him. She hadn't contacted him at all after she'd left his apartment that night. Which had been exactly what he had wanted at that time. Though, as Sam had pointed out, that may have not been the best move on her part.
He'd turned away from pretty much anyone, shrank back into his tiny world of one, and gone back into survival mode. Cutting off any connection that wasn't absolutely necessary or stubborn enough to forcefully maintain contact. Namely one Sam fucking Wilson.
Bucky had gone to work when Urban Refurb needed him but hadn't done more than the job and gone home at the end of the day. Not permitting any appreciation of the camaraderie he'd been building with his part-time co-workers. He took his anger and frustrations out on the drywall and concrete that he had been scheduled to remove on those days. He tried not to be mean about his preference to be left alone, but even he could tell some of those he'd shared an after-work drink or two with were bemused by his sudden change in behavior.
The good-natured ribbing about his suddenly revealed relationship had been rebuffed with taciturn commentary and dangerous glares that were effective in warning them of any continued reference to the events that had made even some of the local news broadcasts in need of a fluff piece.
It had been the better part of a month and he had convinced himself he'd moved on without any painful reminders hanging over his head.
Until... until he'd fucked up.
Badly.
And Sam had called him on it.
Which had ultimately ended with Bucky sitting in the Daily Grind hoping like hell Nienna would actually show up. He'd spent days debating exactly how to approach her, wrote and rewrote paragraphs that said nothing of value because how could he explain the whys of his decision in a mere text. So in the end he sent a simple, 'can we meet' and prayed to a god he had long since stopped believing in that she would respond.
Much to his relief, she had and a time and date had been agreed upon.
Bucky, being annoyingly nervous, had arrived nearly thirty minutes early, claimed their usual spot, and ordered a drink that he knew would not calm him down the least little bit. He drank the first one down quickly, ordered a second, and forced himself to sip at it. Even if the servers actually knew who and what he was they would still wonder exactly why he was downing so much alcohol in so short a span of time. Especially since he hadn't set foot in the place in weeks.
He stared out the window to his right, not expecting to see her but in a vain attempt to distract himself and feign a patience he could not currently feel. He wanted this part to be over with, to skip ahead to the hopefully happy-ish ending where he got to have Nienna back in his life. He'd take anything at this point, even just a working relationship.
He missed her.
More than he could have ever anticipated.
He'd been alone for so long that he never really expected to find someone that he could connect with. Someone who looked at him and saw Bucky Barnes, a kid from Brooklyn, who wanted little more than a simple, peaceful life and knew would never have it.
What had astonished him over the last few months was that she hadn't been the only one. All the people he'd met, through her, or Sam, or on his own, hadn't really cared who he had been and had simply been willing to befriend the man he was.
Much like one scrawny pain in the ass Steve Rogers so long ago.
A shuffle of feet drew his attention and he turned to see her standing there, the rustic coffee table filling the seemingly impossible distance between them. Her look was decidedly neutral, apparently not thrilled at being disturbed by his need to see her. To make an effort to close the distance that he had forcefully put between them. He swallowed the oversized lump that had suddenly developed in his throat. "Hey," he managed after staring silently at her for what had surely been far too long.
"Hey," she echoed, hands tucked into her back pockets, messenger bag hanging at her right hip as if she had come straight from the office to the pub. Her clothes were not the usual business casual, however, so Bucky instantly second-guessed what she'd been doing prior to her arrival.
Not that it was any of his business. Hadn't been for weeks. Might never be again.
At that thought his preplanned and practiced speech of contrition vanished from his mind, his mouth went dry and he stared up at her in both relief and desperation. She'd shown up but would she stay? Would she, as Sam had insisted, give a damn about why Bucky had pushed her away? Put up that thirty-six-inch thick steel wall that even he couldn't punch through. Would she even care the least little bit, all those texts Sam had told him about to the contrary?
He tipped his head down, arms braced on his thighs, hands wringing in his discomfiture, and instead of his well-thought-out and planned speech simply said, "I'm sorry. So sorry."
He squeezed his eyes shut, only able to repeat the same words over and over again, desperately hoping that she would eventually believe him.
What seemed to be hours passed and he knew with certainty that she had simply turned on her heel and left only to suddenly feel her hands make their lazy way through his hair. Stroking gently as if in an effort to calm a skittish animal. He buried the top of his head into her abdomen, outrageously thankful that she had not only remained but had chosen to comfort him, no matter how undeserving of it he might be.
He absolutely refused to cry, though the tears that filled the back of his throat threatened to choke off his breath. He swallowed them down, voice going tight as he kept apologizing, not able to find any other words to express the emotions swirling within him. After long minutes where she remained eternally patient with his personal foibles, he released a long shuddering breath and lifted his head to gaze up at her.
The word sorry could in no way encompass all that he wanted her to feel concerning his penitence. There were so many levels to his apology that he currently could not seem to articulate.
Sorry for hurting her.
Sorry for pushing her away.
Sorry for all but destroying all that she'd helped him build over the few months they'd been together.
Just so fucking sorry.
He tipped his head up to look her in the eyes. "Can you give me a second chance?"
Her lips thinned and she softly said, "No."
Bucky went still, a wash of icy cold rushing through him from head to toe, the feeling bringing back memories of being placed back into cryo after another mission for Hydra. He hated that feeling. Hated the memories that it brought back, the moments of clarity, of knowing who he really was for an instant before the cold and darkness closed in and wiped him away just as effectively as the machine and the words.
"Oh," he responded in a strangled tone. "I... I guess you'll be going now."
Her brow knit in confusion for an instant then she smiled the tiniest bit, the corners of her lips barely lifting up, though her eyes clearly sparked in amusement. "Idiot. I mean you are still on your first. You don't need a second one. Understand?"
He stared up at her for a long moment before answering her surely rhetorical question, "No?"
She chuckled, cupped his cheeks in her hands then leaned down to kiss him lingeringly on the forehead. "There's nothing to forgive, Bucky. So, therefore you don't need a second chance. You're still on the first one." She brushed nonexistent hair off his face with a touch that damn near tickled. "If you want, that is."
"Yes," he responded instantly, probably sounding far too desperate, but not caring in the least. "Fuck," he muttered, causing her to chuckle softly. "Sit, please."
She nodded, pulled the messenger bag over her head, set it on the table then settled into the sofa kitty-corner from his chair. Close enough to touch while still keeping some semblance of distance between them. Not that he expected her to sit with him no matter how oversized the chair he sat in was.
At least not yet. He had hopes for this evening, vague and confused ones, but hopes nonetheless.
The server who'd been waiting on his impatient ass magically appeared, "Your usual?"
Ni nodded. "And another for him, I think he's gonna need it."
The server waited for his confirmation before hustling off to grab their drinks. Since it was fairly quiet in here he knew she'd be back in minutes with the liquid courage that had no effect on him.
Before he could get a word out she leaned over and set a hand on his knee. "How are you?"
He shook his head. "Sorry, apparently."
She chuckled. "You have no reason to be sorry."
"Yes, I do. But I want to make sure you know you did nothing wrong. It was all me."
"Ah yes, the old it's not you it's me kiss of death. So you ask for a second chance when you don't really want one?" She didn't appear upset even though the tone of her words suggested otherwise.
"What? No. I–" He stopped cold with a shake of his head. "I suck at this."
"At what?" she asked, tone a touch milder.
His eyes narrowed. "You know what."
She shook her head. "Nope. You asked me here, this is your show."
He wanted to be angry but knew she had a point. A good one at that. He was forced to wait on his response thanks to the return of their server and the beers. They took the time to drink, giving him a few moments to figure out exactly how he wanted to reply to her challenge, for that's what it was. A challenge to face what he'd done and move past it.
"I don't want to hurt you again."
One eyebrow rose on her forehead. "Again?"
"Are you going to try to tell me you didn't end up with a massive bruise down your back, because I won't believe you."
"I won't tell you that as it was indeed the most impressive bruise I've had in a long time," she admitted, but not sounding upset about it.
He ducked his head down. "I hurt you, Ni, and I don't want to risk it happening ever again. You are… you're too important to me."
"For the record, you're important to me too. Do you want to continue to… to date?"
Bucky went eerily still, forcing the words that wanted to rush past his lips in an instant response to remain caged inside. "I do, but I'm not certain it's a good idea."
"Why? You clearly had something happen while you slept, a nightmare I presume, one involving me?"
"I'm sure Sam filled you in on the details."
She looked confused. "No. Why would he?"
Bucky sighed. Why indeed. Maybe he'd just hoped he wouldn't have to tell her himself, let Sam fill in the blanks, but of course, Sam fucking Wilson, would want Bucky to be fully accountable for his own actions. As quickly and concisely as he could he told her about the dream and his unexpected reaction to it.
When finished he sat and waited in total fear of her reaction.
She frowned, eyes flashing for an instant. "Now I really do wish I'd tried to turn that Bugle reporter into a pretzel."
Bucky snorted, mostly to cover the sudden wash of relief that rushed through him. She wasn't mad. Not at his sorry ass anyway.
"I don't know that I'd have enough for bail, but I'd try."
She grinned. "Given it's the Bugle I think they'd let me slide."
"Quite possibly," Bucky agreed. "I realized how easy it would be for me to really hurt you and I didn't–"
She raised a hand and cut off the rest of his penitent words. "Did you mean to do it?"
"What? No. Of course not."
"So, you had a visceral reaction to a dream, a reaction well within the norms for anyone, and decided it would be better if you cut yourself off from the rest of the world because of it."
He tipped his head down, hands once again wrapping about each other as guilt pulsed through him. "Yes."
"Silly." She glanced out the window for a long moment. "I get it. One error and judgment and someone could be seriously hurt, especially someone like me, a regular old human, but given the number of enhanced people is still comparatively low, you are going to need to learn to function with us, at least on a day-to-day basis."
He grumbled under his breath knowing she was right. "So, what do we do?"
"That's up to you. I want you to be comfortable with whatever level of interaction we have," she stated, for some reason putting all the decisions upon his indecisive shoulders. "I will say I wish to keep you in my life even if it's only as business partners. Working on Iris will require some cooperation and it can't just be with Sam."
"And if I want more?" He picked up his beer, mostly to hide behind as he waited for her to answer.
"Do you?" She followed his lead, picked up her beer, and downed a large swallow waiting for his response.
"Yes," he responded voice shockingly tiny.
"Okay," she said in an oddly soothing tone, which he kind of hated that he needed right at that moment. "How much more?"
He balked at answering that. He wanted it all but knew it might not be feasible in the long run. "While I'd like to pick up where we left off, I don't think that's a good idea."
"You think you might hurt me again?"
He nodded. "Since I can't guarantee something like that won't happen again…" He shrugged.
"So, we compromise. If we do sleep together, we don't sleep together. One of us goes home," she suggested.
He didn't like that and it must have shown on his face.
"Or we go back to just being friends and play it by ear. I am open to whatever you are comfortable with. Though I do have one stipulation."
"What is that?" he asked, not having any idea what she might be about to request of him.
"That you talk to me. Whether it's another nightmare, me putting my foot in my mouth, you just having a bad day, or whatever, you talk to me. Even if it's no more than you telling me you can't. You don't shove me away out of some misguided need to protect me. I'm a big girl and can handle it. Even if it's rejection."
"Hey, I said I was sorry."
She snickered. "And a sorry mess you are. I know you won't always be able to articulate what's going on in your head, I just need you to be able to tell me you can't and I'll leave it until you are ready."
"I… I think I can manage that," he answered, not really sure if he could, but had decided to try. He didn't want to lose her, he realized he was better when around her. Learning exactly who Bucky Barnes could be in this wild new world he'd found himself residing in.
"We'll figure this out, if you want to, that is."
"I do. I'm gonna need some patience on your part."
"You'll have it," she assured him without hesitation. "Need another drink?" She waved at his extremely empty glass.
"How about dinner? I owe you one, remember?"
"You don't owe me anything, but yes, I would love to have dinner with you."
"All right," he said, doing his best to contain his sudden excitement at the prospect of taking her on what he would consider their first proper date. "Let me settle up and we'll get out of here."
He shuffled over to the bar and paid for the few drinks they'd had, leaving a more than generous tip before heading back to Nienna who still sat, some guy standing across from her clearly trying to engage her in a conversation that would surely go nowhere. Bucky held out his hand for her to take.
She stood, leaned in to kiss Bucky on the cheek then said, "Nice to meet you, Justin, maybe I'll see you around."
Justin puffed up his chest and then turned to give Bucky the once-over. His alpha male countenance quickly deflated when he realized exactly who his competition was. "Uh, yeah, catch you later." He slunk away with his tail firmly between his legs.
Bucky leaned in. "You are too nice to strangers."
She shrugged. "If he tried anything I would have put him in an elbow lock till he screamed like a girl."
Bucky laughed. Really laughed for the first time in weeks.
He set a hand gently upon her back and escorted her from the Daily Grind.