Light Up The Night

Over 48 hours without sleep didn’t do Tony any favors. Between being woken up by a frantic call from Steve about the fire, and then spending hours inside the shop – choking from the acrid smell, looking for anything that could be salvageable, all the while being far too keenly aware of how close Steve and Bucky had come to dying – Tony was exhausted. Never mind that whole thing where he played chaperone for the twins before returning them to the designated safe location where it had taken him quite awhile to get the twins settled down. He hadn’t thought about how they would respond to the fact that he still smelled of smoke. He hadn’t thought about much of anything, really. It took Wanda having a panic attack for him to realize that after the fire that killed their adoptive mother, they still didn’t handle those triggers particularly well.

All of that before finally reviewing all of his notes on the model for Barnes’ arm and practicing removing parts on the prototype he’d still held onto. He wasn’t about to work on a living human and run the risk of causing Steve’s boyfriend irreparable damage. Not when the guy had already been through way too much. Also, when he was trying not to completely destroy his relationship with Steve.

It had taken him the majority of the afternoon, evening, and well into the early hours of the morning before he’d felt confident enough for the trial ahead. He’d been kept up to date, from Steve, Natasha, and the surgeons, regarding the process of repairing Bucky’s shoulder and how that recovery was looking, as well as how they planned to ensure that Tony’s work on the arm wouldn’t cause any additional damage to the healing muscle and tissue.

He’d eventually given in and snagged a quick nap, just enough to reset his body’s clock and stabilize himself before he went in to what he basically felt was a surgery he was completely unqualified to be performing. Granted, no one was more qualified to be working on the arm he’d created but those models weren’t attached to living humans who would feel pain if Tony miscalculated. Tony might have been a doctor on the books – perks of having a doctorate – but he wasn’t a medical professional.

Now Tony was back wandering the halls of the hospital, hiding out from the fluorescent lighting as long as he could with the help of his sunglasses, and continually reassuring himself that too much caffeine had never interfered with his ability to work on any of his projects. Being alert was more important than anything else.

The last thing he needed was to fuck this up and reinjure Bucky’s shoulder – or worse - and make Steve hate him even more.

He nearly missed a step when he saw the red-haired woman waiting for him at the end of the hall. Worrying about Steve might not be his biggest problem. Steve might punch him in the face but Natasha would drag things out and hurt him in ways he probably couldn’t even imagine if he fucked this up.

“Tony,” she greeted with a nod.

“Natasha,” he returned, in the same tone as her. “Is Barnes ready?”

“As ready as he’s going to be.” She studied him intently and he tried to pretend that she didn’t notice the bags under his eyes and the slightest tremor in his hand. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

“I’m always ready,” he said with bravado that he didn’t quite feel.

She raised an eyebrow and said nothing as she opened the door for him. Tony pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and squared his shoulders as he walked inside the room.

With all of the equipment around, it looked more than a surgical suite than anything else. He figured that was just the way things went in a hospital – everything had to be sterile – but it gave him the sinking feeling of being completely out of his depth. He wasn’t a surgeon, he had no medical expertise, and while he recognized that he wasn’t about to crack open Bucky’s chest and do open heart surgery, it sure as hell felt like that was the next step.

Bucky sat in a wheelchair, near what looked uncomfortably like an operating table, clad in a hospital grown, an IV still in his right arm. The gown didn’t quite hide the fairly visible bandages over his left shoulder, nor did it hide the rather extensive looking sling keeping his arm stable and in place. His hair was tied back, away from the pale skin of his face, and while the look in his eyes was haunted, he managed a small smile in response to whatever Steve had just said to him.

Steve, for his part, looked a bit less exhausted and more functional than he had the last time Tony saw him, although that wasn’t saying much. Particularly given that Steve’s anger was barely there – if Tony hadn’t been looking for it, he never would have caught that it was there, right under the surface. That didn’t fit with his personality and the situation. Sure, maybe he was holding it in because Bucky was still in the hospital and about to undergo yet another procedure, but somehow this didn’t fit with the Steve Tony knew.

Tony nodded to each of them in turn, keeping his tone light and easy. “Rogers. Barnes. I’d say good to see you but that seems kinda fucked up given the overall situation.”

“Tony,” Steve echoed, tense but civil, which Tony hoped against hope meant their issues had been resolved and/or forgotten for the time being. “I’d also say good to see you but, yeah, that doesn’t seem quite right.”

“I’m going to pass on the generic greetings and just say thanks for doing this, Stark,” Bucky murmured.

“Who better than me to do this, right?” Tony said. “I mean, given that it’s my tech and all. By my estimates, it shouldn’t take too long. Maybe half an hour at most. Give or take ten minutes on either side. My plan is to remove the lower part of the arm, right above the elbow, and then see what I can do to repair any urgent damage to the upper part. I figure I’ll take care of the non-urgent damage when I put the arm back together once you’re all finished healing. Sound good?”

“It’s not like I have much choice in the matter, is it?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I figure if I did, someone would’ve told me by now.”

“It’s not,” a scrub-clad figure in the room agreed, one Tony hadn’t quite noticed at first.

He quickly recognized one of the doctors he’d spoken with the night of the fire regarding Bucky’s arm, potentially the one who’d ended up during the surgery the previous day for all Tony knew. Given that Bucky had gone through surgery less than 24-hours prior – or at least something close to that timeframe – he looked surprisingly functional. Still half-dead, exhausted, and moderately pained, but for someone who’d almost died in a fire and then gone through surgery, he seemed to be doing well.

“Damn, and I was so hopeful too,” Bucky quipped, though Tony caught the trembling in his jaw as he forced a grin. “So, we gonna get to it this century?”

The doctor nodded. Tony spread out his set of tools on the stainless steel tray provided to him, trying not to think too hard about the fact that usually there would be very different instruments put out there. As he prepared himself, the doctor moved to Bucky’s right side and helped him to his feet and then got him settled on the surgical table.

Tony looked up long enough to see Bucky’s breath catch in his throat as he sat on the edge of the surgical table. Tony put his head back down once Natasha and Steve both quickly stepped in to calm Bucky. The doctor carefully remove the sling and then position Bucky on the table, taking care to place his upper left arm in what looked uncomfortably like some sort of metal restraint. Though the purpose of it was obviously to keep the arm stabilized, it still sent a chill down Tony’s spine. Then the doctor tucked a blanket around Bucky’s lower body and took his place at Bucky’s right arm.

“Like we talked about, we’ll be giving you a dose of sedatives, Mr. Barnes.”

“Just call me Bucky. We don’t need formality here.”

“Bucky then,” the doctor agreed. “As we talked about before, we will not be using full anesthesia today. My goal is to avoid that at all costs, given your recent head injury and the surgery you just went through, not to mention the medications you’re already on. That said, I also want to keep you as calm as possible. I’ll start you out on a low dosage of a tranquilizer. I’ll be checking in with you throughout to see if you need more.” He glanced at Natasha and Steve, then added, “Your friends will also be here the entire time. Any questions?”

“All heard loud and clear, doc,” Bucky replied. “Now, any chance we could get those drugs going? The Dilaudid’s doing a great job on the pain but nothing for my heart rate.”

Steve reached for Bucky’s right hand, pausing about half a second to look for approval from the doctor before he went through with it. Once he’d received the confirmatory nod, he squeezed Bucky’s hand gently as the doctor injected a syringe-full of liquid into the IV. Bucky’s body almost instantaneously relaxed and immediately Tony found himself feeling a bit less of his league, though he couldn’t quite determine whether having Natasha positioned close to Bucky’s left shoulder was an added complication or somehow helpful. Given that Bucky relaxed all the more with her there, Tony had to figure it was probably a good thing in that it seemed to make him feel safer.

Still, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to being under her scrutiny as he worked.

“You ready?” Tony asked, waiting for Bucky’s affirmative response. Then he pulled over a chair and settled down. “I’m gonna do my best to talk you through this so there are no surprises. I’m also going to check in as often as I can, too but sometimes I get lost in my work. So if you need a break, I need you to tell me.” He glanced between Steve and Natasha before adding, “And if you can see that he needs a break, feel free to interrupt too.”

With everyone on board, Tony turned his full attention to the job at hand. “I’ve got a screwdriver in my hand. That’s what I’ll be using to deal with taking apart all of the little pieces that hold your arm together. Those’ll need to be taken apart in order to get the lower part of the arm off. Like I said, I’m planning to go slowly so there are no surprises.”

He didn’t bother to add that he’d pointedly chosen manual tools despite the fact that it would take longer. There were so many other tools he could have used, tools that would’ve been quicker but also led to vibrations going through the entire arm. Vibrations could easily cause additional damage to the already damaged muscle and tissue. This method would take forever – or thirty minutes, give or take ten minutes on either side - but at least he wouldn’t be responsible for doing anything to further hurt Bucky.

Bucky just murmured, “Okay.”

Tony took that as his cue to start. He turned his full attention to the task to the point where the rest of the world drifted away. He figured if there were a concern, Natasha or Steve would clue him in. From the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha smoothed back Bucky’s hair. Then he slipped back into the zone and wasn’t aware of a whole lot because he was more intent on figuring out how to carefully and quickly detach the lower part of the arm.

The next 15 minutes passed quickly, to the point where Tony almost forgot that the equipment he was working on was attached to a living person. Bucky remained quiet throughout. Given that neither Steve nor Natasha stopped him at any point, Tony had to assume that it was the good type of quiet. The doctor occasionally asked Bucky how he was doing and Bucky responded, mostly affirmatively in one word answers, although not all of those answers must have been positive ones; Tony did catch the doctor giving Bucky a bit more of the sedative. Tony all but breathed a sign of relief once the lower arm came completely off. At that point, he turned away from Bucky and carefully stowed the arm. He took a few moments to straighten up and stretch his sore muscles, wincing as his back protested each and every movement.

“You doing alright, Buck?” Steve asked.

“I’m good,” he said groggily. “That wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

“Well, we’re not quite done,” Tony added. “I’m not going to do much to the rest of your arm, since you’re still healing, but there’s some damage that I’m a little worried about leaving for however long it takes for you to heal.”

“Then let’s get to it. I figure it’s best to keep going while the drugs are still working their magic and I’m feeling calm.”

“Fair enough,” Tony said, stretching for another few moments before reaching for his tools once more.

This time, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the arm was attached to Bucky. Even while focusing specifically on the metal, he couldn’t miss the rise and fall of Bucky’s chest or catch sight of his face out of his peripheral vision. Despite doing his best to keep his focus on repairing the damaged metal, he knew something was wrong before Natasha brought it to his attention.

It was hard not to notice given that Bucky’s chest suddenly stopped moving and his breath hitched in his throat. Tony quickly stopped what he was doing and pushed his chair.

“James, listen to me,” Natasha said sharply.

There was panic in her eyes that Tony didn’t quite understand. Despite the fact that Bucky had stopped breathing, it was pretty clear he wasn’t going into cardiac arrest or anything like that. The doctor appeared concerned, but he wasn’t going for the crash cart. It took Tony a moment to realize that while Bucky wasn’t about to die, he was verging on panicking. With his arm restrained, that was something that could go badly very quickly.

Suddenly the decision to keep the arm restrained, to minimize damage while Tony worked, seemed like the worst possible decision they could have gone with. If Bucky panicked now, he’d injure his arm probably as badly as anything that could have happened if the arm had been free while Tony worked.

Bucky didn’t have any response to Natasha’s command, nor did he have any reaction to Steve squeezing his hand and repeating his name several times. The doctor reached towards the restraint to release it, but Natasha stopped him.

No one breathed for the next few moments. With no one else acting, Tony verged on releasing Bucky himself. The last thing he needed was to be responsible for whatever was about to happened next – and then Bucky’s eyes unfocused completely.

“Tony, finish the job.” Natasha practically ground the words out.

Tony didn’t even consider arguing.

This time, he was able to shut out everything else. It felt like no time had passed before he could say, “Alright, that’s all I think we need to deal with now.” Before anyone could argue, he unclasped the restraint on Bucky’s arm.

The doctor checked Bucky’s vitals once again and seemed satisfied with whatever he found. Natasha rested her hand on Bucky’s cheek, focusing his gaze on her despite the fact that he clearly wasn’t seeing anyone or anything, and started murmuring to him. Tony didn’t bother to listen, particularly when Steve jumped in on it as well. He felt more like a voyeur than anything else and preferred to get his tools together and just leave.

Still, he hesitated when Bucky tiredly asked, “Is it over? Are we done?”

“Yeah, Buck, we’re done,” Steve responded. “Ready to get you back to the room?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder to find Natasha smoothing Bucky’s hair off his pale face, enough to press a kiss to his forehead before backing off once the doctor moved over with one of those transport gurneys that hospitals seemed determined to use to move patients around. The doctor gently replaced the remains of Bucky’s metal arm in the sling and Tony flinched when he caught Bucky wince in pain. Steve kept a steady hold of Bucky’s right hand as the doctor helped Bucky sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the table.

“Let’s just go slowly,” the doctor cautioned. “These medications often make people lightheaded.”

Steve reluctantly moved away as the doctor guided Bucky to his feet for a short moment before settling him down on the gurney. The blanket was once again tucked around him, this time over his entire body, which Tony thought was probably a good thing since he could see Bucky tremble. As always, these surgical rooms weren’t quite warm but Tony didn’t think it was cold enough to bring out this reaction.

“I’ll meet you guys back at the room,” Natasha promised, as Bucky was wheeled out. “I need to have a little conversation with Tony first.”

“Uh-oh, am I in trouble?” Tony asked, trying to sort through anything he might have done to piss Natasha off. Last he’d checked, the two of them had been getting along about as well – if not better – than usual, and it wasn’t as though he’d done anything to jeopardize Bucky’s well-being while he worked on the arm.

Natasha shook her head and then sat down in the chair Tony had recently vacated. If Tony felt like a voyeur before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now.

Natasha buried her face in her hands and took several, slow, deliberate breaths, several of which hitched in her throat as though she were on the verge of crying. He considered offering a comforting hand on the shoulder but quickly determined he’d be in danger of losing that hand, so instead he just stood there, feeling useless and hoping all of this ended soon.

Natasha raised her head, straightened her shoulders, and took several deep breaths. She rose to her feet without commenting on what had just happened and headed to the door, pausing long enough to inquire, “Are you coming?” before heading into the hallway.

Tony slung his bag over her shoulder and hurried after her. “Is there some reason you want me to come along with you?”

“Because I’m expecting you to come back with us to the townhouse so that we can talk about that press conference you’re planning.”

Tony couldn’t exactly come up with an argument for that, given that the press conference was set for a few days time. Instead, he followed behind and hoped against hope that this would be his last time in a hospital for the foreseeable future. With the sunglasses off for this long, the fluorescent lights were bringing back the headache, most likely compounded by the ridiculously strong cleaner hospitals insisted on using to prevent infection. Upon reaching Bucky’s room, Natasha darted inside. Tony watched from the door. He was surprised to see Clint in there as well, although less so when he realized that Clint held Winter’s leash.

Bucky must have just been settled back into his room, given that Steve sat on the edge of the bed. As Tony watched, Steve settled down against Bucky’s right side, careful of the IV in Bucky’s arm. Bucky’s face still hadn’t gotten much color back and he looked tired and unfocused, although he summoned enough energy to order Winter onto the bed. Clint released his grip on the leash as Winter obliged and stretched out across Bucky’s legs in a way that did not look comfortable and made the bed quite crowded. Bucky didn’t seem to mind though. Besides, for all Tony knew, that was exactly what Winter was meant to be doing as a service dog.

Natasha leaned down to kiss the top of Bucky’s head, which brought a smile to his lips. “Take care of yourself, James. I’ll be back this evening to see how you’re doing. Want me to bring you anything?”

“Aside from real clothes, I’ll let you know if I need anything else,” Bucky replied. “Right now I’m just planning on sleeping for the rest of the day.”

“Get some rest,” she said softly. “And remember that you’ll be coming to the townhouse tomorrow.”

“How could I forget? I’m counting down the hours.”

Natasha smiled fondly at him before turning her attention to Steve. “Anything you want me to bring you?”

“Real food would be appreciated. The food here isn’t awful but it’s definitely not great.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Natasha promised. “Call me if you need anything sooner.”

When Natasha straightened up and turned away from the bed, Tony saw the moment her expression shifted from the warm, comforting one she’d been offering Bucky and Steve to something harsher, darker. The rest of her body language hardened but Bucky and Steve thankfully didn’t seem to notice.

“We’ll take your car,” Natasha said, in a voice that left no room for argument.

While Tony was glad to be acknowledged again, he didn’t quite appreciate that.

“Do I get any say in what’s going on here?” he asked.

“No. We need to talk and I know that the safest place for us to talk is there.”

Tony couldn’t quite argue and thankfully he’d taken the limo today given his sleep-deprived state. That meant he could always snag a drink at the minibar if this conversation went directions he didn’t particularly want to deal with. Besides, if nothing else, he figured some whiskey would take the image of Bucky’s panicked, frightened eyes out of his mind for the time being.

-~-

The following morning, Natasha moved around Bucky’s room, straightening the pillows and smoothing the comforter down over the freshly cleaned sheets. She added a bit more of the lavender oil to the diffuser on the desk and then pulled the blackout curtains securely closed. A few deep breaths should have calmed her but she had had never been quite this angry. There had been plenty of times when something had happened to invoke a certain level of rage but this was far beyond that. This was closer to wrath it would continue burning under the surface for the foreseeable future.

Until she did something to alleviate it.

It had started from the moment she’d stepped into the hospital room that first night, to see Bucky lying asleep in the bed, his left shoulder covered in bandages and supported by a sling. The rage came when she drove past Shield and saw the damage to the shop and had no doubt – between that and everything she’d already heard from Tony and Steve - that the purpose of the fire had been murder. The wrath formed when she stayed by Bucky’s side as he went through surgery. In the hours before the surgery, she’d seen the tremble in his hand, the tension in his jaw, and the borderline terror entering his eyes. In the hours after, as Bucky slept off the anesthesia, she and Steve had alternated between sitting by his side, pacing around the room, and wandering the hospital when the quiet in the room got to be too much.

Natasha had remained by Bucky’s side throughout his various sets of surgeries after he came back from Iraq. He was different now, in several ways; he had new coping skills and resources to keep himself stable and calm. On the other hand though, he’d also been through this scenario before and she could see how much the reminders of that first time were weighing on him despite all of his newly developed and enhanced coping skills.

The final straw was when Tony got to working on the arm and Bucky completely fell apart.

Even having her and Steve by his side didn’t seem to help. She’d made the executive decision that it was just kinder to let Bucky dissociate until Tony finished. He’d already been through way too much and didn’t have the capacity to handle this as well.

Seeing Bucky’s breath hitching in his throat and then his eyes unfocus completely was it for her. That was the moment that she made a decision that she recognized was far from wise and safe but was the only thing she could consider that might make a change after everything. Clint had a hit on him, probably more than one at the rate he was going. Pietro had been shot and now he and his sister were taking dangerous steps towards ensuring their freedom.

And the same people who had caused all of the damage to other people in her life had attempted to kill someone who was not involved at all; someone who was one of the most important people in her life. It wasn’t as though no one had tried to kill other people she cared about as much – Clint would have died that night in the library if she hadn’t been there, after all – but there was a big difference there, in that Clint knew the danger he’d gotten himself into. Bucky and Steve, though, they were just both in the wrong place at the wrong time.

While she could accept things to a certain extent, she could not accept the possibility of doing nothing moving forward. She had to act and she had to do it in the only way she knew how.

But that was a plan she had not yet been able to put into play. There were parts of it that needed to wait until after the twins’ press conference in another few days. Those parts, and the specific course of action she would take, had been agreed upon by her, Tony, and Clint during their trip back to the townhouse the previous day – and shared with Sam once he’d arrived home, since he’d been unable to secure any more time off of work to join them at the hospital. But that was nothing to dwell on now. Not when she could see Stark’s limo – so kindly offered by Tony - pulling up outside of the townhouse.

She pulled her coat more securely around herself as she stepped outside to meet the figures stepping out of the idling limo. Those several days in the hospital had done neither of them any favors. With his unshaven face and long, unwashed hair, Bucky looked rough and worn, and he carried himself protectively, mindful of the remains of his left arm and any threats in the environment that might lead to further damage. It seemed to help that he had Winter on his left and Steve on his right, but she could see his relief when the two of them limped their way up the steps to the townhouse.

“Hey, Nat,” he said, offering her a small, almost genuine smile.

She leaned in to kiss his cheek and then stepped back to let him and Steve inside. “Hello, James. Hello, Steve. How are you both feeling?”

Despite the fact that Bucky seemed on the verge of crawling out of his skin while outside, he held back to let Steve step inside the townhouse first. Steve shot him a look but apparently decided that it would take less time and energy if he didn’t argue and therefore responded to Natasha’s question as he stepped inside.

“My lungs still hate me and my ankle’s killing me but it could be worse.”

Once inside, it was obvious that Steve looked as worn down and in pain as Bucky did, with his face pale and deep, dark circles beneath his eyes. It was clear he hadn’t slept much in days, just like the rest of them. From the look in his eyes, his anger was at the same level of hers, though he seemed to be doing his best to hide it.

It was also clear Steve wasn’t using his crutches. She’d need to call him out on that later.

“And you, James?” she asked, when Bucky didn’t volunteer the information himself. Not that she could blame him. It was pretty clear, as he took in slow, measured breaths, that he was more focused on grounding himself and just grateful to be off the street and inside a familiar place.

“The anesthesia’s still kicking my ass,” he admitted. “Keeping my eyes open for more than an hour at a time is pretty much the extent of my abilities. Probably isn’t helping that I’m on pretty high doses of Vicodin and Xanax. I don’t know how much longer I can stay on my feet. I even lost a little time while in the limo, although I don’t know if that was me dissociating or passing out.”

“I’d say a little bit of both,” Steve said.

“How about heading up to your room?” Natasha suggested softly. “Get some rest and I’ll check in every so often, see if you guys need anything.”

Bucky’s relief was palpable. “Thanks, Nat.” He turned to Steve and added, “You know, you don’t have to follow me if you’d rather stay down here.”

“Actually, it’s a little early for this, but I was thinking about knocking back some Nyquil and just passing out myself,” Steve said. “I can’t seem to shake this cough and I need to stay off my ankle, so I’m hoping that might help.”

Natasha supposed she should be grateful that on some level Steve was aware of what he needed to do to take care of himself. Even if he wasn’t about to drag the set of crutches around. Thankfully, she still had a set from Clint’s injury those few months back.

“There’s Nyquil in the medicine cabinet,” she said. “Get some rest, both of you. Clint and Sam are out so it should be pretty quiet upstairs.”

She hugged Bucky as tightly as she dared before he headed upstairs. He smelled of smoke and the antiseptic smell of IVs and hospital beds. His breath warmed the side of her throat and she could feel the taut muscles beneath the layers of a jacket and shirt. That kind of tension didn’t bode well for future migraines, which was unsurprising. He’d been running on exhaustion and terror for days.

“I’m coping, Nat,” he murmured. “Honest. You don’t need to be worrying like you are.”

“After what happened to the both of you, you damn well know I’m not going to stop worrying.”

She didn’t comment on the fact that Steve had shared with her that the nightmares and flashbacks had been steadily increasing over the past 24 hours. They’d started before then but something about going through Stark’s work on the arm had clearly pushed Bucky over the edge and brought on everything he’d been trying to hold back.

Instead, she kissed his cheek. “I’ll be down here if you need anything.”

She stayed long enough to watch as they headed up the stairs, just to ensure that both of them made it without losing their footing. Then she headed to the kitchen, specifically the cross between a closet and a pantry in there – and picked up the bag she’d hidden. Sifting through her equipment and preparing for her next step gave her something to focus on, something other than listening to the sounds of the floorboards creaking over her head, of the water running in the bathroom, and then of everything settling down into silence.

With the bag in hand, she settled down on the couch. While it may have been more productive for her to focus on the next due assignment or paper, she didn’t have the level of focus for that. Besides, this was important in a different way.

She reviewed the files, flipping through the papers inside, to see if there was anything she’d missed, anything else she needed to do in preparation. There were the fabricated documents in one, as well as everything she’d gathered to take that next step. Then there was the hard drive, backing up everything on the off-chance that something happened to the hard copies she had in her possession already. Naturally, there were also back-ups of her back-up.

One cursory review of everything, and she found herself on her feet again. Movement was required; she couldn’t stand to remain stationary any longer. Instead, she headed upstairs and paused outside Bucky’s room, listening at the door for any signs or sounds that something was amiss.

Hearing nothing, she carefully eased the door open and glanced inside to find Bucky sleeping soundly - thankfully undisturbed by her presence - with Steve curled up against his right side, Winter on his left, just as they had been outside. His dark hair fanned out over the sheets, contrasting to Steve’s blonde strands, where Steve’s head was pillowed on Bucky’s chest, rising with each slow, even breath Bucky took.

Her heart twisted as she looked at them, seeing how calm and quiet Bucky seemed. With the faint scent of lavender in the room and the blackout curtains drawn closed to let him sleep, it wasn’t hard to reflect back on when she used to be the one nestled against Bucky’s side. The one calming him down when he had a nightmare; combing her fingers through his hair until he finally slept.

Natasha eased the door closed and retreated back downstairs. The files remained where she had left them. She flipped through them once more before returning them to their bag and carrying that back to its hiding place. As far as she was concerned, she was as ready as she was going to be to take that step forward.

She wandered into the kitchen to review the options for dinner. She could always call for takeout – a pizza or Chinese food would probably still be better than anything Bucky had eaten while in the hospital – or she could throw together some pasta, a frozen pizza, or consider something slightly more daring, like a build your own taco night.

Natasha was looking for the ingredients for that when the screaming started from upstairs. She ran straight up the stairs, only to pause once again in front of the door and then slowly ease it open

Bucky sat in bed, hunched over, his shoulders heaving in a way that wasn’t great for his recovery, breath coming in gasps. Beside him, Steve had his hand pressed against Bucky’s cheek and spoke softly, “It’s okay, Buck. It’s me, it’s Steve. We’re at the townhouse. You’re safe. Just focus on breathing and on the sound of my voice.”

Winter rested his front paws on Bucky’s legs and lapped at his right hand. Bucky tensed, his body jerked, as though he was trying to reach out with his damaged left arm. When the sling and lack of forearm prevented the movement, he made a strangled whimpering sound that broke her heart.

She almost took a step into the room then, already going through all of the methods she had to used over the months to ground Bucky, to bring him back, to get him to breathe again and to reassure him of where he was and that he was safe.

But that wasn’t necessary. Despite his own sleeplessness and exhaustion, Steve coaxed Bucky to look at him, to meet his eyes, and to focus on his voice. His voice remained gentle but sharp and steady enough to bring Bucky back. Little by little, Bucky’s breathing changed, shifting from uneven, sobbing gasps to slower, more rhythmic breaths. The tension in his body eased and he buried his head in the crook of Steve’s neck, as Steve combed his fingers through Bucky’s hair just like Natasha used to do.

That was when she stepped back, before Steve could catch sight of her standing in the doorway. Even now, after all this time, it felt strange not being the one there, by Bucky’s side, calming him down and bringing him back. She hadn’t expected to miss playing that role for him, though she supposed it made sense after their long relationship with one another.

Besides, given everything else, he was probably safer with more distance between them. Given her own link to the mob and some of the things planned for the near future, she doubted being close to her would do him any favors. Though given that he’d already been hurt despite that, the distance might not even matter in the end.

It was clear; after everything that had happened, things were going to get a lot worse before they got better.